#and I had to pause to write this post and sit in my feeling of affection for a little while

[svt-ara]

⋆｡𖦹°‧𓂅 LIKE WE USED TO

synopsis࣪ ›what was supposed to be just another night turned into something else. and hold habit revived and maybe somethings aren't just friendship anymore.

ᯓ★ 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘 fluff, comfort | ⸝⸝⸝⸝ 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦/𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗡 a looot of nostalgia, slightly tension, physical touch ( holding hands ), mentions of an hard past | ⸝⸝⸝⸝ 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘 2020 | ⸝⸝⸝⸝ 𝗪𝗖 2.8k | ⸝⸝⸝⸝ 𝗔𝗡 haaate this but couldn't just sit in my drafts, period. at frist it should've been way longer but thought that what i was writing deserved a whole new post because it explains an important step for my cuties hora 😔 not proofread

ⓘ masterlist, writings masterlist

earlier that night, the bulding was supposted to be empty by now. most of the members had already gone home, their laughter fading through the halls hours ago, echoing one last time before silence swallowed everything. lights were off in the recordings room, the infinite hallways almost completely empty and soundless— just the low hum of of the vending machines breaking the silence now and then.

it was that kind of silence that only came late at night— soft, still, a little too honest. the kind that made your own footsteps sound too loud, the kind that pressed against your chest and made everything feel a little more real. it was a familiar rhythm inside the hybe bulding— after idols and traniees pushed themself past exhaustion repeating the same choreographies steps over and over until their bodies screamed and the music blended into muscle memory, the night came and wrapped the walls in queit.

but lights in one of the pratice rooms was still on— the one seventeen usually use, the one that appears in every 17 inside. weird— hoshi thought.

he hadn't planned to be here, not really. he had just forgotten something in there, maybe his charger— he wasn't even sure now. it was supposted to be a quick stop— just run it, grab it, and follow the wave of others heading home. nothing more. he was tired, like everyone else— muscles sore, brain foggy, the usual post-pratice exhaustion weighting down on his body. the idea of slipping under the covers and knocking out for the night was tempting enough.

but the moment he pushed open the dance pratice door and stepped into the dim, low-lit space something in him shifted. the air was warm and smelled faintly of sweat and something sweeter— fabric softner maybe, faded and subtle, barely clinging in the air. the kind of scent that lingered long after someone had left— but she hadn't, she was still here.

the room looked different at that hour. the mirror, usually bright and reflecting every detail under the harsh lights, were lightly foggy, dulled by the warmth and condensation of too many hours moving without pause. his own reflection was blur in the distance, ghost-like.

it was quiet— unnaturally so. no music boucing off the walls, no bass rattling the floor, no layered voices counting out steps. just a soft, steady squeak of her sneaker against the polished wood, the occasionak drag of her foot mid-turn, and the rhythm of her breath— deep, steady but heavy and unmistakably tired. the kind of breathing that only came after pushing through pain, not physically but something deeper, more personal.

she hadn't seen him yet. she was facing the mirror, arms sightly raised, movements fluid but tired— like her body was no longer dancing for the sake of rhythm. her hair was tied in a messy bun that had long given up holding everything togheter. strands clung into the nape of her neck, curled against her temples with sweat, flicking around with each spin. the back of her shirt was dump, clinging into her skin in uneaven patches, the fabric moving with every shift of her spine.

hoshi leaned against the doorframe without realizing it, the corner of his mouth twiching into a small, quiet smile. she hadn't changed, not at all. well, maybe a little. her hair was a touch longer, the way she moved was a bit slower, more careful. there was something quieter about her now— less explosive than he remembered, more grounded, like someone who had walked through a storm and learned how to stay still.

but she still was her, she was still ara. the way she danced like the whole room belonged to her, like her body carried her own language, like the mirrors weren't here to impress but to reflect something real.

watching her, like this bought him back. to the late nights from years ago when it was just the two of them in the same room, trying to perfect a routine long after everyone else had gone home. when the air smelled the same— like sweat and polished wood. back then, he used to yell at her for spacing out mid pratice and now he couldn't look away.

hoshi ran a hand though his hair, squeezing eyes and tilt back his head sightly as she moved though another step— a little stumble in the middle that made her frown and shake her head. he could pratically hear the annoyed mutter under her breath— he'd hear it a hunder times.

and maybe she changed, but she still was the girl who didn't quit even when her legs were shaking, the one he admired when she wasn't looking— like now.

when ara finally noticed him, she froze for half beat. strads of hair sticked to her cheeks and chest raised and fell. maybe it was the creak of the floorboard beneath his feet, or maybe just the shift of the hair— either way, her head lifted and her eyes met his in the mirror before she fully turned.

she looked flushed, a little breathless, her lips sightly parted like she was caught mid-tought. her eyes were wide, not shock, but in that small, delicate surprise that comes from being seen when you didn't expect it. the kind of look someone gives when they're not ready to be percived.

there was something unfiltered about her in that moment, raw in the way late-night made people softer. her t-shirt clung to her, the collar was sightly streched because of the movements. she looked tired— but in that beautiful, quiet kind of way. the kind of tired that wasn't defeated, just worn in. like her exhaustion had become part of her grace. she stood still, like the silence betweem them was a fragile thread she didn't want to break. and in that stillness, there was something oddly tender— something unspoken but deeply familiar.

she didn't even time to speak— barely managed to catch her breath— when his voice broke the comfortable silence between them, soft but carrying a familiar weight. «it's been a while since you've done late nights pratices» he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world, like no time had passed at all.

his tone wasn't teasing, not exactly. there was something more nostalgic laced between the syllabes, a kind of gentle observation only someone who had been watching— truly watching— could make. like he remembered the countless night they used to spend, pushing their limits in a room that never judged, surrounded by mirrors and echoes and dim light.

she blinked at him, caught between amusement and a breath she hadn't fully taken. she didn't smile right away, but something in her gaze softened— as if his words tugged at a memory only they shared. the weight of the moment wasn't heavy, just familiar. a quiet beat of something old returning, sliding back into place like they never left.

she shrugged, her chest still rising and falling, breath gradually evening out. «guess i forgot how it felt» she murmured, voice low and sightly hoarse— like the sound had to climb its way out of her throat after staying quiet too long. hoshi's lips twiched again, a soft crooked thing. «i didn't» he said, almost without thinking. it hung in the air for a moment, more than memory, less than a confession.

she tilted her head at him, her expression unreadable— but not closed off. there was something in her eyes, like she was sorting a through old drawers in her head, dusting off late nights and unspoken understanding they hadn't touched in so long.

arms falling to her sides as she walked toward her water bottle, uncapping it with fingers that were trembling just a little. not from nerves, but from effort, exhaustion. she took a sip, then let out a quiet sight— like her body was still trying to come down from the tempo she'd just forced through.

he stepped further into the room now, no longer just a passerby. the distance shrank— not dramatically, just enough to feel it. he wasn't trying to intrude, but there was something deliberate the way he moved. like he wanted to be, like he was meant to be. it wasn't uncomfortable. if anything, it was the most natual thing than ever. they'd done this a hundred times— stayed too late, praticed too long, existed in the same silence without needing to fill it.

«you always said this time of the night felt different,» she finally spoke, voice quieter, more thoughtful— like the memory had snuck up to her «like the room got softer or something» hoshi chuckled under his breath, sharp eyes scanning the space with a kind of affection that only came after years of sweat-soaked memories. «it still does» he said, the corners of his mouth lifting gently.

he wasn't trying to be poetic for the sake of it— he meant it. the room really did feel different now. the way the harsh lights overhead dimmed, projecting gentle glows across across the mirrored walls. how their reflection didn't felt like harsh critiques anymore but quiet witnesses. the floors didn't echo with the same ugercy— everything felt slower, still and safe.

ara gave a small smile at that, the corner of her mouth lifting almost shyly. she turned away, grabbing her towel and dabbing the back of her neck, not because she needed to— but maybe because she needed a second to hide her face. hoshi watched her in silence, not intruding. there was nothing heavy between them, just time and that kind of familiarity that never really left. and maybe something new that had been patiently waiting for its wigs.

then she looked back at him— a real look this time, not casual or fleeting, but anchored. like there was something sitting in her chest, buried deep. something she didn't planned to say but was suddently too close to ingore. still, her eyes didn't flicker away— she held his, steady and searching. her throat ached as she swallowed as she spoke, «i missed this» she admitted. words coming out softer than she expected.

«not just the dancing. not just being here this late, with you. i mean... us» there was a beat of silence after that, neither empty nor full. hoshi didn't move at frist, but his expression faltered for a second. something warm, something unguarded— too quick to name, too honest to deny.

ara blinked, just realizing what she'd just said while the words echoed faintly in the silence. her ears flushed with heat, and she dropped her gaze, suddently too aware of her surroundings. of the way the air in the room felt thicker now and of the way his eyes hadn't left her since the words fell from her lips.

her fingers twitched by her sides, unsure of what to do. she cleared her throat lightly, the sound barely cutting through the quiet, and stepped back to where she had been standing earlier. her hand lifted in a small, nervous gesture, brushing a stray strand of hair off her cheek with more force than necessary.

she didn't looked at him this time, not directly. her voice came out low, but clearer that she expected. «do you wanna dance?» she asked, then paused, glancing up through her lashes. the corner of her mouth lifted, hesitantly but they did. «like we used to do»

hoshi stood still for a little too long, not because of the question itself— it was because of everything that had come before it. the way ara had said it, like she had fitted a big feeling into a sentence too small only to skip past it so quickly, as if it meant nothing. as if she hadn't just opened something he had carefully kept sealed for years.

and he knew her, he knew her well enough to recognize the sudden shift for what it was— defense, maybe because she was embarassed at how easly she esxposed her feeling. magbe because she though she'd crossed the line.

his expression twitched— eyebrows lifting, head tilting ever so sightly, as if he was trying to replay the moment in his head to hear the words again in the silence that followed. but he didn't said anything. instead a quiet laugh escaped him, small and barely audible— more like a breath than a sound. one of those soft, knowing laughs that say 'i caught that' but i'm not going to call you out.

he stepped foward, then again, the faintest of a smile pulling at his lips and his eyes softened even more. «okay» he said simply, already reaching out to start some music «like old times»

the music kicked in. it was soft, wrapping around them like muscle memory. no heavy beats, nothing aggressive— just something smooth, familiar, somethind that made your body move without thinking too hard. it wasn't even perfect— not the kind of dancing you do for stage, no precise angles or sharp hits.

there were little laughs between them when ara stumbled out a spin or when hoshi messed up a transition and tried to cover it with some ridiculous freestyle moves. «really?» she laughed, nudging him with her shoulder, breathless but smiling. «shut up» he grinned back, shaking his head as he corrected the step, «it's called improvising»

at some point, their movements became less about the choreo and more about each other. matching steps turned into playful mirroring— ara copying hoshi's exaggerated moves just to make him laugh, hoshi countering with something twice as ridiculous.

they laughter bounced off the walls, mixing with the soft thud of sneakers against polished floor. there was no pressure, no expectations, no cameras or the loud chatter of the members— just the two of them and the comfort of knowing exactly how the other moved.

but as the song faded out, hoshi let out a breathy laugh, tossing his head bac drammatically. «okay, i'm done» he declared, barely catching his breath before letting his body fall backwards onto the floor with a soft thud, limbs sprawled out like a starfish.

ara laughed under her breath, watching him for a second— the way his chest rised and fell, his short hair messy, eyes half-lidded but still shining with that same playful energy. without a word, she padded over and let herself drop beside him, lying on her back and her shoulder barely brushing his.

«that was exhausting» she sighed, staring up the ceiling. «you're telling me» hoshi chuckled, throwing his arm over his eyes dramatically— as always, «i'm not in my twentys anymore». she laughed quietly, turning her head just sightly toward him, «you literally are» ara pointed out, admiring his side profile. «shh, don't ruin the moment»

a comfortable silence settled between them, only broken by the occasional hum of the building and their quiet breaths. hoshi peaked from under his arm, turning his head just enough to catch ara's profile— eyes soft, lips curved into a faint smile, her messy bun was now long gone replaces with a low ponytail.

«you know» he started, voice softer now, almost lazy from how relaxed he felt «we should do this more often. not the dying part on the floor, but... the rest» ara's lips left a low giggle, but still silently agreeing with him with a nod. her gaze still on the ceiling, but her smile lingered longer this time.

«i'm feeling better these weeks» she didn't need to specify what she was referring to, he knew too well— and also noticed the light shift in her mood. hoshi simply hummed, understanding her point. neither of them moved, like standing up would ruin something unspoken.

«dont fall asleep though» ara muttered, half teasing. «we still gotta lead home, remember?» he just groaned in response, tossing an arm lazily over his eyes again. «come on» she said, pushing herself up and offering him a hand. «let's go out of here and before we actually fall asleep on the floor»

hoshi grinned, slipping his hand in hers— fingers tangled togheter a little longer than necessary, like neither of them really wanted to let go. his palm was warm against hers, familiar in a way that made her chest ache just a little.

she felt his thumb brush against the side of her hand— just the softes, smallest motion, like a nervous habit or maybe something entirely intentional. her breath hitched, barely noticiable, and she pretended to not notice the way her heartbeat pumped in her chest, like it had suddently remembered how to panic.

but even as she forced her face into something neutral, something casual, she couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from twitching— like her body was betraying her, letting the smile slip out before she could stop it. the fingers tightened slightly around his— just a reflex, she told herself. just habit, nothing more

yet, her chest felt too full, like there was something sitting right between her ribs growing— dangerously growing into something she was scared of.

[whatever-letmebe]

Every time Sang Yan brings up a topic by pretending that he's just talking about a piece of media or a friend and not something very specific that has been on his mind regarding Wen Yifan, my love for him grows.

Every time Wen Yifan tries to avoid owing Sang Yan even just the tiniest amount and stubborny puts her very bad math skills to work, my love for her grows.

They are both so precious!

[thatfriendlyanon]

desire to share art vs desire for personal privacy

[cobbled-peach]

proposal(s)

aka: the four times Spencer thinks about proposing to you, and the one time he does

a/n: this is my first time writing/posting here pls be kind to me I just love him and I love books and I hope you love him and love books too !!!!! this hasn’t been edited much so apologies for sp mistakes cw: brief mention of sex, but nothing explicit. Fembau!reader. Lots of literature references (with books named at the end). I think this constitutes as fluff? Pre-prison Spencer, but no specific era. wc: 2.3k

darcy and elizabeth

The first time Spencer thinks about proposing to you, it’s the day you meet him.

The newest agent on the team. You’re emotionally intelligent in a way he can only dream of being.

You cradle a mug of coffee in your hands. His mug, which stuns Morgan into silence mid-sentence, his conversation with Garcia derailed by the sheer surprise of what he’s witnessing. Your mug had smashed thirty minutes earlier, an unfortunate casualty in the first-day desk unboxing. Spencer, seeing your disappointment, pulled a plain white mug from his top drawer, REID printed on the side.

He held it out tentatively. A peace offering. ‘Until you get a new one,’ he’d murmured, offering a small smile.

He’s always been wary of germs, but somehow didn’t care this time.

He watches your hands wrap around the mug. Soft, delicate, holding the item like its something precious. He wonders what it would be like to hold your hands himself. Then scolds the thought. Coworkers, Spencer.

You bring the cup up to your lips, humming in contentment after the first sip. Yor lipstick – or maybe lipgloss? He’s unsure of the correct term – leaves a gentle pink stain on the rim. He secretly hopes that it won’t wash off. He stares for a moment, and wonders, quite randomly, is this how Darcy felt when Elizabeth first touched his hand?

You set the mug down (Morgan still gaping in the background, like you’ve declared war on the Bureau’s hierarchy of personal property) and smile at him.

‘Thank you. Seriously. I desperately needed that caffeine.’

‘It’s not a problem. Did you know that caffeine sensitivity is actually inherited?’ A pause. To see if you’re listening. You are, and he suddenly wonders how appropriate it would be to stain his lips with your lipstick-lipgloss in a kiss. Not very, he concludes. ‘It’s all to do with polymorphisms in your enzymes. Its genetic; they tested it on twins.’

‘You sound well-versed in your coffee knowledge. A fellow connoisseur?’

‘I think the term “addict” is more fitting, actually. And I don’t know how much of my consumption is due to genetics over stress and lack of sleep.’

A laugh from you. He feels the sound in his chest and his stomach flips.

‘Good to know what’s in store for me,’ you tease.

‘Coffee addictions and sleepless nights,’ he replies. Then, hesitating. ‘Maybe I’ll let you use my high-quality espresso beans when it gets really bad.’

‘Literally marry me,’ you joke.

He almost says, I will.

He doesn’t, just stares at the mug like it holds the future.

2. the black cloud

The second time he thinks about proposing is your third-technically fourth date. (The first didn’t count, at least not to you. ‘You asked me to dinner to “celebrate closing the case,”’ you’d later said. ‘That’s not a date.’ He insisted that it was; he’d paid. You said so did JJ, once. Case closed.) They’re also technically not “dates” because dating within the team is prohibited, but Hotch showed some leniency.

Coffee in the park. A foolproof plan, not much room for error. He buys your drink, and you sip it beside him on the bench while he spews obscure facts about the tree you’re sitting under, intertwined with quotes from Ovid and Darwin. He offers to get you a refill as soon as you finish.

‘You haven’t even finished yours yet,’ you tell him.

‘I know. I can still get you a new one.’

‘Just drink your drink, Spencer.’ Accompanied by a fond smile.

You wander together. Conversation flows. He can’t quite explain why its so easy, why he feels so comfortable.

He’s puzzled by the anomaly, so he does what he does best: theorises. He’s been hypothesising for the past three-technically-four dates. Cross-referencing data points. He runs through the evidence, and draws the only viable conclusion:

Love.

Premature, maybe. But true.

You suggest dipping into a second-hand bookshop. He agrees eagerly, following you in like Orpheus descending. He’ll go anywhere, so long as he can find his way back to you. You disappear into your aisle; he into his. Mathematics, physics. The realm of science and fact. Only two minutes pass before you appear again, book clutched in your hand.

‘This is so you,’ you say.

It’s The Black Cloud. Fred Hoyle.

He blinks. Then again. Takes the book from your hand and turning it over like you’ve just handed him the world.

‘You’ve probably read it,’ you say. ‘But you’ve never mentioned it, and I know you like mid-century sci-fi.’

He has read it. Of course he has. But its not about the book. Its about you, thinking of him.

And you say it so casually. Like this isn’t the most intimate thing someone’s done for him.

‘You picked this out… for me?’

‘Yes.’

He turns it over again, shocked. He wants to hand you his heart, neatly wrapped in paper and ink.

‘Oh…’ he breathes out, the sound so quiet. He feels like he’s been winded, in the best way possible.

‘Not to your taste?’

‘No–’ he shakes his head. ‘No, its exactly to my taste. I think I have an older copy, but not this edition.’

‘Do you want it?’

‘Yes.’ The answer comes out before he even registers it. He does want the book. Not because he needs it, but because you picked it out for him.

You smile, gently take it back, and go to the register. He watches lamely, feels compelled to place a hand over his chest an steady his beating heart.

He thinks of Dante first catching sight of Beatrice. Of Gatsby staring across the bay. Of Gabriel and Bathsheba, paths destined to intertwine.

In the middle of the bookshop, he almost gets on one knee.

3. the hour of the star

The third time he thinks about proposing is directly after sex.

Not the first time, or the second. Somewhere in the quiet middle.

You’ve been officially together for six months. You transferred to a different department, and he asked the moment you were in your new office. (‘No interdepartmental fraternization,’ he’d quoted, followed by a nervous, ‘so, can you officially be my girlfriend now?’)

You’re both tangled beneath the sheets in your apartment, the place half his by default now. His toothbrush lives in the bathroom, his go-bag in the hallway, his own mug in your kitchen.

His copy of The Black Cloud lives on your bookshelf, annotated. He took it straight home, writing his thoughts in the margins, little notes to you. Fred Hoyle writes “There is a coherent plan to the universe” and beneath it, in Spencer’s barely legible font, is yes, and I think its you.

The book had been kept out of your sight for seven months, before he “sneakily” slipped it onto your shelf. “Sneakily,” because you watched every movement through the kitchen doorway. You’d read the whole thing that night, cried, and set to work annotating a book of your own for him.

The books are a love language themselves. If he could frame every annotated page on his wall, he would.

He’s reading aloud to you now.

It’s become a ritual. You, soft limbs and warm skin. Him, thumbing through whatever book is on the nightstand, voice a little hoarse. Sometimes it’s a play, sometimes poetry. Once, quantum physics (he didn’t take it personally when you instantly fell asleep to that).

Tonight, its Clarice Lispector. The Hour of the Star. Skin still flushed, he clears his throat and reads aloud, backed by your steady breaths. Each turn of a page is a pause in which he can press a kiss to your skin. Shoulder, cheek, temple. Wherever he can reach.

‘“Things were somehow so good that they were in danger of becoming very bad, because what is fully mature is very close to rotting.’” The sentence hangs in the air. Heavy. His voice stops, like he’s contemplating the words he’s just read.

You turn your head against his chest.

‘Everything okay?’

His quiet. Thinking, as always, a crease between his brows.

‘Mm.’ His arm shifts to wrap around your shoulders. ‘It’s just… interesting, isn’t it? How even the best things are fragile, maybe. Decaying.’

He doesn’t need to say “us” for you to catch what he’s referring to.

‘You think we’ll decay?’ you ask, propping yourself up on one elbow. He looks at your eyes, soft, unworried, and thinks again.

‘I think that… real things are vulnerable. We’re real. And I think that makes us susceptible.’ He hesitates, brushes some hair from your face absentmindedly. ‘Entropy. Everything tends towards disorder.’

‘Only if you don’t control it,’ you say. Factually incorrect, but he appreciates what you're saying.

And perhaps that’s it. Your unwavering faith. You’re a realist, not a romantic. Offering certainty in a world of disorder.

‘Decay isn’t death,’ you point out, continuing. ‘Its transformation, right? Compost to soil. Stars collapsing and becoming galaxies. Things can break and become something beautiful.’

His world shifts in that moment. He looks back at the line, reads it maybe 20 times in the span of five seconds.

‘We’re not going to rot, Spence.’

‘We’re not going to rot,’ he repeats. He knows it’s the truth as you press your lips to his chest, over his frantically beating heart. ‘Do you want me to keep going?’ he asks, lifting the book slightly.

‘Please.’

You adjust your position, curling into his side. He resumes his reading. He’s turning the page again when you mumble quietly.

‘We’re not going to rot, because I love you.’

Every syllable brands itself into his soul. He’s heard those three words before, but there’s something more to them in his context. He almost drops the book, catches I before it hits your head. He wants to tell you that you are his Eurydice, the person he’s always been trying to reach.

Instead, he says:

‘I love you, too.’

It falls easily. Inevitable, as always. No drama, no prelude. Just the truth, spoken to you many times before and many more to come.

He almost attaches a “marry me” to his words but instead kisses your hair and returns to the book. He’ll wait.

He already knows the ending will be worth it.

4. metamorphoses

The fourth time isn’t once. It’s every day.

You hand him coffee in the morning? Marry me.

You nurse him through a cold, unconcerned about coughing and sneezing, just wanting to be near to him? Here’s a ring fashioned out of Kleenex.

You coo over Henry in one of JJ’s photos? Let’s make one of our own. Just marry me first.

He asks Rossi for advice. (‘You’ve been married a lot, statistically speaking.’)

Garcia catches on quickly. Spencer Reid combined with search history is a concoction for whatever the opposite of “stealth” is. He looks at rings on his lunch break, tilting his computer screen like its classified information.

Pretty soon everyone knows. You remain oblivious – or pretend to be.

It’s simply a matter of when.

5. darcy and elizabeth

It’s a Tuesday. Raining.

Not a dramatic kind of rain. Unassuming. Soft and relentless, quietly soaking the world, a constant tap against the window of his apartment – now permanently shared with you.

He wonders if the rain is a piece of pathetic fallacy. A warning against his plans.

It’s four years to the day since he met you.

He had a plan. Of course he did. He was Spencer Reid. A riverside walk in the park. Take a picnic, surrounded by ducks. Bookmark a page in Much Ado About Nothing with the ring. But the weather has altered his plans, made him go off script.

But maybe that’s a good thing. Gentle touches and heartfelt gestures over big declarations, that’s what he’s always preferred. He just needs a moment.

You’re making coffee. Barefoot, hair damp from the rain that interrupted his plans. Wearing an old shirt of his effortlessly. A perfect picture of home. His home.

He stands in the doorway with a book in his hand. Pride and Prejudice. Not his favourite. Nowhere near his top ten. But it’s your favourite. You’ve worn it down with love, left your own story between the lines with annotations. And that makes it his favourite now, too.

His mismatched socks shift awkwardly on the floor.

‘Hi,’ he says, calling your attention.

You look up from the mugs with a pre-formed smile. Yours, a copy of the mug you’d smashed on your first day. His, the mug with your lipstick, now washed, but imprinted with you forever.

‘Hey,’ you respond. ‘Dry from the rain?’

He doesn’t respond. Crosses the kitchen and holds out the book. Why does it feel like a brick?

‘This is… mine?’ you say, unsure.

‘Yes,’ he confirms. ‘I added some annotations. For you.’

You open the cover. His handwriting – messy, familiar – sits below your own in black ink.

You know I am not very good with words. So, I thought I’d borrow someone else’s. Please turn to page 301.

He watches your breath hitch. Watches as you carefully flip the pages.

There’s a line. Circled not once, but many times over, holding the weight of what couldn’t be said with words.

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”

Beside it, tentative but certain at the same time, his writing: but if you ever choose to be bound to someone, I hope it’s me.

He’s already on one knee when you glance up. Ring held out in his hand. A quiet promise, forged from the pages of books you’ve shared and the one you’ve written yourself.

Your hands are cradling his face. He’s crying. And you’re crying.

‘I will always choose you.’ Quiet, definitive. A fact.

He slips the ring on and kisses you. Pride and Prejudice lays open in the background. Page 301. A circled sentence. A note in the margins. A love undoubted.

hi I’m super awkward but I hope you enjoyed yippee!! I thought I’d quickly mention all the books I referenced/have implied references to because I love them all and if you like literature you should read them teehee (in order because I’m super sweet) (also I know darcy doesn’t touch her hand in the books pls don’t come for me <33) Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen Metamorphosis, Ovid The Origin of Species, Charles Darwin The Black Cloud, Fred Hoyle The Divine Comedy, Dante The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald Far from the Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy The Hour of the Star, Clarice Lispector Much Ado About Nothing, Shakespeare Hamlet, Shakespeare

[swanlikely]

Current Brainrot: Drunk Reader! w/ Boyfriend Caleb!

Author's Note: I wanted to write something sweet again—him being a little overbearing but it’s cute. This is Caleb and his girl being gross and cringe, and in love, as usual. Please check out the artist! She's such a sweetie, and she's talented! (Artist & Original Post)

not proof-read! (sorry if there are any errors - let me know and I'll fix it!)

CW: AFAB!reader, pet names, possessive behavior, alcohol use (reader), slight dub-con (if you squint), suggestive ending.

Caleb is the kind of boyfriend who says, “Go have fun, baby,” and means it; but still stands posted, watching, in the corner of every bar you drag him to. He lets you dance, drink, flirt with your friends, yell-laugh at karaoke, and scream-sob over fries in the back booth like it's a sacred ritual. All while he nurses a single drink and watches you with the kind of soft-eyed amusement that says: That’s my girl. Loud, messy, gorgeous. Mine.

Anyone who looks too long gets a stare. Not a scowl; not enough to draw attention. Just a faint warning in his eyes. He doesn't interrupt, only hovers. But everyone knows you didn’t come here alone.

You catch his gaze across the bar more than once. He doesn’t budge. Just lifts his brows like, You sure? — and when you pout, he caves. Of course he does.

He doesn’t even like dancing. He just likes you.

And he follows you like it’s instinct. Loyal in that unshakable way; like a dog who’s chosen their person and never once thought of looking back. He keeps the dog tag you gave him years ago in pristine condition, always polished and shining on the chain around his neck. You joked about it once, calling it his collar.

He’d smile, fingers brushing over it absentmindedly. Like it was a privilege he never planned to take off.

Sometimes, when you’re feeling extra bratty, you'd call him your golden retriever boyfriend.

Big. Loyal. Always underfoot. Quick to roll over and give you anything you want.

He usually snorts, eyes gleaming. “I’m a Colonel, Pips, not a pet.”

“Uh-huh,” you hum, poking at his chest. “You follow me around all night, you take my boots off, you carry my bag, and you’d probably bark if I asked.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. He considered it, for a moment at least.

You pause, then snicker. “Actually, you’re more like a German shepherd.”

He just shrugs, smirking. “I bite if I have to.”

“Yeah, yeah. My big tough lapdog.” You slur as those glossy lips lifted into a grin.

That earns you a growl: low, playful, and way too pleased.

By the time he gets you home, you’re giggling at nothing and absolutely useless. Your boots are halfway off, your eyeliner is migrating to your temples, and you're swaying on your feet like the floor’s made of jelly.

But Caleb? Caleb lives for this part.

He’s all quiet efficiency now. Scoops you into the bathroom with one arm around your waist and sits you on the counter. He holds your chin with his cool metal hand as he swipes away your makeup with a cotton pad, eyes fixed on your face like you’re some precious artifact.

“You had fun tonight,” he murmurs, thumb brushing under your eye. “You look like a raccoon.”

“You love raccoons,” you grin, and he huffs a laugh.

He helps you out of your clothes next — not even in a weird way (not yet, anyway), just slow and patient, peeling off layers like you're delicate. Your socks are the last to go, and he rolls them down with that same robotic hand, his touch cold but sweet as he kisses the inside of your ankle.

He adores this. Taking care of you. Spoiling you. Making sure you never have to lift a finger if you don’t want to. You’d barely have to ask; Caleb would already be there, already doing it, like it’s wired into him.

“You’re such a sap,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut.

“Maybe,” he says, lips brushing higher up your leg. “But you’re mine.”

His voice dips on that word. Not playful. Final.

And when he presses one more kiss — higher, warmer, slower; your breath hitches just a little.

Not so drunk now, are you?

He chuckles at the look on your face. “C’mon, Pips,” he says, voice low as he leans in. “Let me tuck you in. And if you’re real good…”

His mouth brushes your ear.

“…maybe I won’t stop there.”

You barely get a breath in before his lips trail along your jaw, down your neck, unhurried like he’s tracing a map he’s already memorized. His metal hand drifts up your thigh, cool and relaxed, while his other curls behind your knee, tugging you just a little closer to the edge of the counter.

“You were drivin’ me crazy tonight,” he murmurs, and your skin begins to vibrate. He was electrifying. “Spinnin’ around like that, laughin’ like I didn’t want to drag you out of there and keep you all to myself.”

“You don’t even realize what you do to me,” you catch the warmth of him, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and something uniquely Caleb—clean, a little musky, and completely intoxicating. “All night, I wanted to touch you—wanted to pull you close, but I held back.”

“I was good,” he hums, voice low. “I waited. But damn, it was hard not to just… reach for you.”

There’s no teasing in it. Just that low, confessional tone he gets when he’s close to breaking. When he’s been good for too long.

“I watched you have your fun,” he says, lips brushing your sternum, “now let me have mine.”

Your head lolls back against the mirror as his tongue flicks against your skin, warm where his hand is cold, and your whole body goes pliant under his touch. He kisses down your stomach, sinking to his knees without a single word of warning, spreading your legs with a reverence that makes your pulse stutter.

“Shh,” Caleb soothes, but a shiver and a flash of heat travels through your middle.

“I’ve got you now,” he breathes, eyes half-lidded as he presses a kiss between your thighs, like a thank you. Like a promise.

“You don't have to do anything else tonight, Pips,” he whispers. “Let me take care of you.”

And he does.

[ijustwannabecool]

Rolling, Rolling, Red Bull

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Summary… When the Drive to Survive crew shows up to film a behind-the-scenes look at Max Verstappen’s life off track, Y/N is less than thrilled to be in the spotlight. But between sarcastic interviews, soft domestic moments, and a now-viral deleted scene involving a jar of pesto, the world gets a glimpse of a Max they’ve never seen before. Boyfriend-coded. Cat-dad certified. And very, very soft for her.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! I’ve been kinda M.I.A. & irregular on my posting but I have been out of town for the last two week so I’ve been writing on my phone and it has been a little difficult.

I hope you guys enjoy this story and feel free to donate on my Ko-Fi, maybe that way I can buy a better computer and write more consistently for you guys.

like, comment, reblog, enjoy (:

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Y/N was halfway through brushing her teeth when Max knocked on the bathroom door.

“They’re here,” he said, muffled through the wood. “The Drive to Survive guys.”

She spat into the sink. “Tell them to come back never.”

Max laughed, leaning against the doorframe in joggers and a Red Bull hoodie, his hair still wet from the shower. “You said yes last night.”

“I was half-asleep and you bribed me with stroopwafels.”

He pushed the door open and gave her the most annoyingly charming grin. “And yet, here we are.”

⸻

The Netflix crew had set up in their living room, pretending the chaos of wires and camera angles was “low-key.” Max greeted them like old friends, casual and cool, while Y/N hovered awkwardly behind a kitchen stool, holding her coffee like a shield.

“Just pretend we’re not here,” the producer said, adjusting his headset.

“Impossible,” she muttered.

Max, ever the calm in the storm, slipped a hand around her waist. “You’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

“That is the problem.”

⸻

They followed the couple through a normal day: breakfast on the balcony, Max fiddling with a simulator, Y/N curled up reading a book while their cats tried to chew on a mic cord.

But then they asked for a sit-down interview.

“Can you two just talk about what it’s like being in a relationship during the season?” the director asked, arranging pillows behind Y/N like this was a cozy podcast and not her personal nightmare.

Max shrugged. “It’s good. We don’t really fight.”

Y/N snorted. “You say that because you don’t consider ignoring my texts for six hours a fight.”

“I was driving,” he said, deadpan.

“You were on the simulator.”

“Same thing.”

The crew laughed. Max smiled sideways at her.

Then the director leaned in. “Y/N, how do you handle the pressure of being with someone constantly in the spotlight?”

She hesitated. Not because she didn’t know, but because she hadn’t expected the question to feel so… real.

“I don’t try to handle it,” she said slowly. “I just try to remind him that there’s a world outside of racing. That he’s more than just Max Verstappen the driver.”

Max’s expression softened—one of those rare looks he saved just for her, all warm gaze and relaxed jawline.

“And she’s the only one who gets away with calling me out when I start acting like a robot,” he added, voice lower now.

There was a pause.

“Wow,” the sound guy whispered.

“Keep rolling,” the director whispered back.

⸻

Later, when they were reviewing footage in the trailer, someone asked if they could get a shot of Max hugging Y/N.

“We have the paddock stuff, the Monaco stuff—but we need something soft to end on.”

Max found her sitting on the edge of the Red Bull hospitality couch, phone in hand.

He didn’t say anything. Just walked up, pulled her into his chest, and kissed the top of her head. Cameras or not.

“You’re doing great,” he said.

“You owe me ten stroopwafels and a massage.”

“I’ll give you twelve.”

The camera rolled as she smiled against his hoodie, arms tightening around his waist.

And later, when the season aired, fans clipped that moment. Over and over.

“Who knew Max Verstappen could be soft?”

“Protect this woman at all costs.”

“Relationship goals.”

But to Max, it was just Tuesday.

_______

Deleted Scene

Y/N stood barefoot in the kitchen, struggling with a stubborn jar of pesto. The label peeled at the edge, and the lid refused to budge despite two dish towels and her full body weight.

“Max!” she called, mildly annoyed. “Can you come here?”

Off-camera, you hear footsteps. Then Max appears in the kitchen doorway, looking suspicious. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. Just open this before I yeet it into the sea.”

He walks over, takes the jar, and opens it effortlessly with one twist.

She stares. “Are you serious?”

He grins, proud. “You loosened it.”

“Uh-huh.”

Without missing a beat, he dips a finger into the pesto and sticks it in his mouth.

“Max!” she gasps, swatting him with a tea towel. “That’s for dinner!”

He shrugs. “Taste test.”

A Netflix producer can be heard laughing behind the camera.

“Can we actually keep rolling?” another asks. “This is gold.”

Y/N turns, catching the crew still filming, and mock-glares at the camera.

“I’m going to need hazard pay.”

Max wraps an arm around her waist and plants a pesto-flavored kiss on her cheek.

“No one would believe how domestic you are,” Y/N mutters, smirking.

“Good. Let them think I’m scary.”

⸻

But don’t worry. The pesto jar ended up on eBay “signed by Max,” with a sticky note that read:

“She loosened it.” – M.V.

All proceeds went to cat shelters. Because Max demanded it.

⸻

FAN REACTIONS TO DELETED SCENE

Twitter/X:

@paddockbabie:

MAX OPENED A JAR AND A NATION FELL IN LOVE

#driveToSurvive #maxverstappen #domesticking

@softf1updates:

the way he dipped his finger into the pesto and then kissed her with zero shame?? I’m on the floor.

literally who gave him permission to be this boyfriend-coded

@f1spicypage:

“you loosened it.”

OH OKAY MAX VERSTAPPEN KING OF HUMBLE DOMESTICITY

⸻

Tumblr:

f1blurbs:

It’s not about the pesto.

It’s about her calling him like a husband.

It’s about him walking in like “what did I do?” like he knows he exists to be summoned.

It’s about the quiet love.

It’s about the damn jar.

I’m crying.

netflix-please:

Reblog if you too would risk it all to have Max Verstappen open a jar for you and call it “loosened by you.”

⸻

TikTok Comments (under the leaked scene with 4.8M views):

@formulalover44:

the way she’s like “MAX” and he just comes?? we love an obedient man

@jamgirlie:

petition to release ALL deleted scenes or i riot

@pestoprincess:

me @ my boyfriend: “why can’t you be more like max verstappen opening pesto jars and donating to cat shelters?”

⸻

Instagram Stories:

@f1gossipgrid:

MAX & Y/N: PESTO-GATE

This leaked deleted scene is the best PR Netflix never meant to drop.

Rumors say Red Bull marketing is already printing “You loosened it” merch.

We’ll take 5.

⸻

And yes—someone already made pesto-themed merch on Etsy with:

“You loosened it – M.V.” in sleek Helvetica on tote bags, mugs, and aprons.

⸻

the end.

[cocastyle]

I See You

Pairing — Bob Reynolds x reader

Word Count — 4k

Warning — SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE I REPEAT SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE!!

A/N — breaking my two years of not posting in honor of this amazing movie and character. the Thunderbolts* has reawakened my fire to write and I couldn’t ignore it. so here you go! this will be a bit of a short series. i kind of envision around three parts or so? anyways, i really hope you enjoy this and know this is your last warning before you continue on!! so if you haven’t seen the Thunderbolts* please save this for later <3

also, did you all notice the easter eggs i included ?? 👀

Part One Part Two Part Three

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Bob Reynolds wasn't quite sure how any of this had happened. One minute he was pretty sure he had been dying and the next he was trapped in a series of never ending nightmares. Except it wasn't just his nightmares, there were other people's too.

He knew he had been having these moments where he didn't remember things, knew that there was something going on at a deeper level than he wanted to admit. He thought with Valentina explaining this power he had been given that it would explain everything he had been feeling, that the darkness wasn't truly his but something brought on by this experiment.

But he knew the truth and walking through these endless nightmares only proved that. The darkness was his. It was a culmination of everything he was feeling, everything that had been consuming him, and it had only taken more of a physical form thanks to the Sentry project.

Bob had no way of fighting this thing, no way of taking back control of his body. And at this point he wasn't even sure if he wanted control. After all, he was just Bob. He was useless. He was nothing. Everyone would be better off without him.

So now he was trapped with no where else to go but to walk through the thousands of rooms of everyone's deepest regrets and shames.

It had been an accident at first, but sometime after his own meth chicken nightmare was when he first started stumbling into the other rooms. He saw so many things, felt the guilt and weight that everyone else felt. One in particular had stuck with him when he had ended up watching the loop of a blind lawyer watching his friend die over and over. Bob couldn't watch that for very long before he was hurriedly trying to get to any other room but that one, the blind man's cries still rattling his bones.

Bob didn't know how long he walked for or how many rooms he went through until he got to one that made him pause as he came face to face with Tony Stark. It had been a while since the hero's death, but still seeing the face of the man that had helped bring everyone back from the Blip made Bob falter slightly.

Someone's biggest trauma was Tony Stark?

Bob took a couple steps back, his eyes scanning over the room as he tried to ground himself in what was going on. He seemed to be in someone's apartment. The place would've been nice if it weren't for the fact that whoever was living here clearly hadn't been picking up after themselves in quite some time. And by the look Tony Stark was making as he glanced at the dirty dishes in the sink, it seemed he was thinking the same.

Bob knew the signs before he even saw her. It wasn't just the state of the apartment, but it was the feeling in the air. That feeling of despair, sadness, and nothingness. That feeling of knowing you were alone and there was nothing you could do about it. It clung to everything in the apartment and Bob's heart ached slightly at the sight. After all, he knew what this was like. He knew it too well.

"I can feel you judging me," a voice said, instantly pulling Bob's attention to the couch where a girl was sitting with a blanket wrapped around her and a bottle of vodka in hand. She wouldn't meet Tony Stark's eyes as she stared at the bottle, her fingers numbly fiddling with the label. "I didn't ask for you to come over and judge how I'm living. Hell, I didn't even ask you to come over, so you might as well go."

Tony let out a soft sigh, "Kid, you were ignoring my calls. Of course I was going to come check on you."

"Ever think I ignored them for a reason?"

Tony huffed and grabbed a chair from the kitchen table before dragging it over in front of the couch. He sat down in front of the girl, tilting his head slightly as he watched her before saying, "You can't keep living like this."

"You think I don't know that?" she asked, her voice bitter. “Why are you here, Tony?”

Tony just watched her in silence before saying, "Listen, Steve and Natasha came to see me yesterday and—"

The girl slammed the bottle down on the table so hard Bob thought it would break. Her eyes were red rimmed as she glared at the man and muttered, "No. We're not doing this. You're not going to sit there and try to rope me into some crazy plot to try and bring everyone back. It's been five years and I'm done, okay? I have nothing left in me anymore and I don't give a shit, so just leave."

"Kid—"

"I said leave!" she exclaimed, her eyes beginning to glow white with a power that Bob could almost feel beneath his own skin. "I'm not some sob story for you to try to fix, okay? I messed up and didn't kill Thanos in time and half of the universe had to pay for it. I'm done trying to help. All I ever do is hurt people."

She looked away, her voice rough when she whispered, "You're all better off without me anyways."

Bob sucked in a breath at that, understanding washing over him as he watched the broken girl do everything she could not to cry.

"Y/N," Tony began but the girl simply shook her head.

"No, Tony. I'm done. Just leave and go ahead and do yourself a favor and never come back. It's not worth your time or energy and I sure as hell don't want you here," she said, her head still turned.

Tony stilled slightly at her words. "You don't mean that," he told her, but before he could even blink, Y/N had used her telekinesis to pick up the bottle of vodka and send it hurtling in his direction. The man barely had time to duck out of the way before it flew right past where his head had been and shattered against the wall. Tony turned to her in surprise but the girl was already getting up and walking to the door of what had to be her bedroom.

"I miss him too you know," Tony called after her causing the girl to still.

"Stop," Y/N warned him, but Tony ignored her and instead stood up, his eyes not leaving her as he clearly made no move to leave.

"Y/N, he wouldn't want this for you. That kid loved you so much. He would be devastated by—"

"I said stop!" Y/N yelled and before anyone knew what was happening, a force was suddenly throwing Tony across the room. The man thought fast and his nano suit had wrapped around him before he could even hit the wall and Bob watched as the color drained from Y/N's face at what she had done.

She was shaking as she stared at Tony, but by the time he was looking back up at her, the Iron Man mask sliding away from his face, she was cold once again. "Get the hell out of my apartment," was all she said before turning and walking into her room, slamming the door behind her. Bob watched her go, frowning slightly as the scene began to play again.

"That was before they won against Thanos," a voice said causing Bob to flinch in surprise. He quickly turned around to find Y/N a little ways behind him, sitting down at a chair in the corner of the room. Her eyes continued to watch the scene playing out in front of her and Bob was almost beginning to question if she had spoke in the first place when she muttered, "That was the last time I saw him before he died."

Her eyes met his then and Bob stilled under her gaze. She was a couple of years older than the version of her from the memory, a little more put together but in the kind of way that screamed help more than her younger self's look had. She had learned to mask it more, that much was clear. Or maybe it was just that Bob knew where to look, that he saw himself when he looked at her and knew in more ways than one just how tired she was.

"Who was he talking about?" Bob asked, silently cursing himself for that being the first thing he said but knowing he now had to just go with it. "The guy?"

Y/N hesitated, her eyes glazing over as she got lost in thought. There was a tiny moment of utter sadness that flashed across her face but it was gone so quickly as she muttered, "I don't know." She let out a sad laugh. "Isn't that sad? It's like there's blanks in my memory. All I know is that there is this immense feeling of loss not just once, but twice. Every time I try to think of him it's like the image of him only gets fuzzier."

Bob was silent for a moment. "I have trouble remembering things too," he admitted. "There are these moments where it's like I'll wake up from a dream I don't remember having and that time is just gone."

Y/N's eyes flickered his way, her gaze shifting over him in a way that made him stand up a little straighter. "I walked through a lot of rooms before ending up here," she told him, her eyes still studying him as though she were trying to piece him together. "This was the only one I couldn't leave."

"Why?" Bob questioned.

"Why did you stop in this one?" she retorted and Bob blinked in surprise. Her head tilted slightly as she stared blankly at the boy. It was a moment before she looked away and back at Tony who was watching her past self slam the door shut behind her as the memory started back up again. "I just wanted to see him again, I guess," she whispered. "I always hated this moment, hated that I pushed him away like that and left him to fight Thanos without me. Sometimes I wonder..."

She trailed off before shrugging slightly and looking back at Bob. "Guess I was as shocked by seeing Tony's face as you were when you walked in," Y/N said. Bob barely even thought his question before she placed a finger against her temple and let out a small sigh of exhaustion. "Telekinesis," she stated. "Just a fraction of the power I was born with, but it comes in handy from time to time. I knew who you were the second you walked into this memory. Your mind is very loud, but not in the way you'd expect it to be."

Bob wanted to ask her more, but it was clear she didn't want to expand on that comment. Instead she merely tapped her fingers against the arm of the chair she sat in and said, "So you're the one doing this."

It wasn't a question. She said it as though it were fact. Not that she was wrong, but something about the way she said it still made Bob's throat constrict.

"It's not. . .it's not me. It's—" Bob broke off and he could see the way she stared at him, knew that she was reading his mind. She blinked and quickly looked away. "Sorry," she whispered. "I can't help it sometimes. You lock yourself away long enough and you'll find it harder to control what once was so easy. But I get a sense that you know that."

Bob let out a small sigh, his eyes flickering over the past Y/N who sat on the couch with a haunted look in her eyes and a tight grip on the bottle in her hand.

"We've all done some bad things," Y/N told him, answering the questions flying through his mind. "I had the unfortunate experience of being the reason half the universe died. I was there that day that Thanos went to Wakanda to take the Mind Stone from Vision. I was the last one there before he snapped. I could've stopped it, but I let his words get to me and . . . well, you know the rest."

“The Blip,” Bob muttered and Y/N nodded solemnly. He could see her trying to keep it all together, but the tension was practically radiating off of her as she avoided his gaze.

“Go ahead and say it,” Y/N told him, her gaze locked on her past self who was busy hurling the bottle at Tony’s head. “You probably lost someone in the Blip, right? Had to suffer five years without them? Who was it? Family? Friends?”

Y/N didn’t even give him time to respond as she let out a sigh as if everything were pointless, “It doesn’t matter. Everyone still thinks the same thing, but I don’t blame them.”

“It’s my fault,” she admitted. “I caused everyone so much pain and suffering and then, when I had the chance to make things right, I pushed everyone away and locked myself in my room. Then Natasha died. Then Tony. And eventually Steve followed. And where was I? Drowning my sorrows in a bottle like the asshole that I am.” Y/N scoffed slightly at herself, the fury in her eyes something most people would probably flinch at but all Bob could do was soften at the sight. “So go ahead and say what you want. Call me names. Shout at me. Tell me how much of a monster I am. I deserve it. I’ll always deserve it.”

Bob didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what he could say. Not because it was all too much to process, but because he understood it. He understood what she was feeling. The pain and the anger. The guilt and regret. The shame. He understood it in ways he couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

But the silence was loud and Y/N wouldn’t meet his eyes. She just stared at the scene in front of her as her past self’s voice filled the silence between them, her voice rough as she whispered, "You're all better off without me anyways."

Y/N flinched at those words, her face crumbling slightly as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Bob felt his heart ache at the sight and for a moment, he saw himself sitting there in that chair. But more importantly, he saw her. He saw Y/N for who she truly was. He didn’t know what to say to her to make her better, so instead he just thought it.

I see you.

Y/N's eyes snapped up to him and Bob knew he hadn't had to say that out loud. She had heard him loud and clear.

She stood without another word, her eyes never leaving his as she walked towards him. She was quiet as she stopped in front of him, her gaze turning questioning as she studied him.

You do see me, don't you?

Bob let out a small gasp as her voice echoed in his head. He stared at her with wide eyes, but didn't flinch away not even when she took a step closer so that they were only a breath apart.

I can feel it, you know? That darkness. It calls to me.

"You know where he is?" Bob asked and Y/N quickly shook her head.

"I'm not talking about the Void," she whispered. She gently lifted her hand and placed it on his chest, right above his heart. "Here."

Bob's breath stuttered and he tried to keep his heart from racing as he whispered, "W-what does it say?"

"That it understands," Y/N replied. "That it sees what’s inside my own heart.” She hesitated before giving him a sad smile. “Like calls to like after all."

Bob stared at her, his eyes flickering over her face. He had thought she was pretty before, but up close she was even more beautiful than he could’ve imagined. Her eyebrow quirked slightly as if she had heard that thought and maybe she had, but Y/N was already moving on which he was silently thankful about.

“You feel it too,” she said and Bob didn’t need to say it out loud to confirm her thoughts. After all, he knew what she was talking about and she was right. Ever since he had emerged into this room, he had felt a sort of tug. It was the reason he had stayed. He thought it was because of seeing Tony Stark, but it was because he had felt her from the moment he had stepped foot into that room.

It was because he had seen her before ever laying eyes on her and it seemed she had done the same.

“I don’t know what to do,” Bob admitted, his words strained. “Every time I think I’m getting better, that I’ve finally pulled myself out of that darkness, I just. . .”

“Get pulled back under again?”

Bob was quiet for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor as that same feeling of shame that always crept up when he thought about his problems beginning to rise in the form of a blush on his neck, “Yeah.”

There was a gentle touch against his chin before Y/N lifted his head so that his gaze met hers once more. Her touched lingered for just a moment, but then her hand was dropping back down to her side. Not once did she move the one that was still resting on his chest and above his heart, the only source of comfort either of them seemed to need.

She gave him a sad smile, her eyes getting a sort of far off look as she whispered, “Sometimes the hardest battle you’ll ever face is with yourself.”

Bob felt tears prick his eyes at those words and for a moment, he even felt a sense of comfort. Someone knew what he was going through. Someone understood.

He had never had that before.

“How do we beat it?” Bob’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Y/N seemed to come back to herself at those words, her eyes locking with his once more and her hand tightened on his shirt. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’d like to figure that out. Together.”

Bob swore he stopped breathing at those words.

“Together,” he repeated, tears filling his eyes slightly out of disbelief.

Y/N merely nodded and she gently reached up, her thumb quickly swiping under his eye to brush away a stray tear that had fallen. Her own eyes were lined with tears as she whispered through a soft laugh, “Yeah, together. As long as you’re okay with being friends with the girl who does nothing but screw everything up.”

Bob couldn’t stop the small grin that began to peak out, the corners of his lips twitching up slightly as he opened his mouth to respond.

It was then that the doors to the room flew open, darkness flooding in and covering the walls and floors with black tendrils as it raced towards the two. The two stumbled back and away from each other as they tried to avoid the darkness creeping in and Y/N let out a small shout when her past self and Tony dissolved into nothing but shadows.

“Bob,” Y/N called out, but the boy was already reaching for her. He had ahold of her arm within a second and he pulled her to the one corner of the room not covered in darkness just yet.

His eyes were wide as he scanned what was left of the room, his grip tightening on Y/N’s arm in slight panic and confusion as he tried to process what was happening.

The darkness had never come after Bob before.

Not like this.

Something had signaled the Void. Something had scared him.

Bob’s eyes flickered to Y/N who was leaning into his touch, the tips of her fingers already beginning to glow white as she clearly analyzed the situation. His fingers felt warm against her forearm and for a moment he let himself remember the feel of her hand on his chest, the way her breath had fanned his face, and the way her words had wrapped around his heart like a hug he hadn't know he had needed.

And he knew.

The Void fed off of his sadness and loneliness and whatever Y/N had been making him feel was the opposite. The Void would do whatever he needed to crush this feeling, to stay in control. Even if it meant there were casualties along the way.

Bob’s heart ached at that thought and he quickly turned to Y/N who was backing closer to him as they were pushed further into the corner of the room and her memory. She moved her arm out of his grasp in order to hold her hands up, a white light emitting out against the darkness as she tried to hold it at bay.

"Bob, what's going on?" she asked. "What do we do?"

"I—" Bob was panicking now, the thought of Y/N getting hurt making him feel so many emotions that he hadn't felt in a long time. It scared him how much he felt towards the girl within just one conversation. He already knew he would do whatever needed to be done to save her and that thought alone scared him in more ways than one. Even more than the plan that was beginning to develop in his head, the plan that would save Y/N but would mean leaving her at the same time.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Y/N's head whipped in his direction. "Bob, no. You can't run. You have to fight this thing. If you don't, the darkness will only continue to consume you," she said.

"Cause you know what that's like?" Bob retorted, his panic and fear making him sound bitter. "We just watched the same memory over and over of you letting the darkness take over. If you can't fight it, what makes you think I can?"

Y/N's eyes softened slightly. "Bob," she started, but the darkness pushed closer towards them and she let out a strangled sound as she strained to keep her powers in check.

Bob watched her for a second, his eyes flickering over her one last time before he leaned forward. His lips brushed gently against her ear and he felt her shiver slightly under his touch. His breath came out shaky as he whispered, "I would've liked to be your friend."

Then, before she could do or say anything else, Bob had pulled back and thrown himself against the wall of the memory. His body broke through the barrier and into the next room, the darkness leaving Y/N behind in favor of chasing the boy.

"Bob!" Y/N cried out as she attempted to lunge after him, but the darkness threw her back and by the time she was up on her feet again, the memory had sealed itself around her, forcing her to relive the same moment with Tony while Bob got away.

- - -

Bob didn’t know how long he ran for. All he knew was that it took forever for him to get back to his own rooms. He almost cried when the meth chicken scene appeared before him, but he didn’t stop there. He continued his trek even after the darkness eventually faded away, now satisfied that Bob was back where he belonged.

Everything was just too loud, the memories too much for Bob to withstand while that feeling of utter loneliness crept up on him once more. It was foolish of him to think he could ever have someone understand him, that he could ever have someone in his life without hurting them in the end. He had done this to himself.

He deserved to be alone.

At some point Bob eventually managed to find the attic of one of his memories, the only quiet place in this miserable void, and he was quick to tuck himself away in there, away from all the noise and the darkness that he could feel feeding off of everyone's chaos.

It was only then that he sat down and curled in on himself, his breathing shaky as he tried to push every last thought of Y/N out of his head.

"She's better off without me," Bob whispered to himself like a mantra, his head tucked close to his knees as he let the stillness envelope him in a hug much different than the one Y/N’s words had given him. “She’s better off without me.”

“Everyone is.”

[gojoshooter]

HER HO!NY HUSBAND : GOJO SATORU

tw. suggestive, gojo flashes his goodies

Husband!Gojo coming out of the shower with a wet muscular body and a piece of towel hanging along his waist—only to see his wife laying on the bed right in front of him.

Pregnant Wife!Yn who had been insecure of her growing belly and weight since a couple months due to her pregnancy, watches Gojo check her from head to toe, an unexplainable look on his handsome pale face.

Sitting upright, she fixes her loose garments. Maybe he’s finally come to the realisation of not being such a big fan of my mom body.

Husband!Gojo sensing her dejected mood, snaps out of his internal thoughts as he decides to reach out and sit next to her instead.

“Baby? Something’s bothering?” he asks softly, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear.

Pregnant Wife!Yn ever a self-conscious overthinker, mumbles while looking up at her husband, “I saw you gazing at me few a many times now...” she fixes her garment again, in embarrassment “like... weirdly. You start looking stiff all of a sudden, as if you want to confess something. About my bad shape maybe.”

At her confession, Satoru pauses, lips parted open slightly and not sure which part to explain first. He brings a wet but comforting hand on her swollen belly.

“Silly girl. Are you worrying about your plump little adorable tummy again? I told you I like it.”

Pregnant Wife!Yn frowns, not really sure of his words. “Really? Then how would you explain everytime you stopped to stare at me? Your face doesn't seem as if you love it—or even like it, Toru.”

Husband!Gojo who shakes his head, body turning more towards her distressed wife. “I don't like it? I love you and every part of you babe, you know me.”

Yn sighs softly, looking down with an upset face. “I do... but maybe i shouldn't have asked for a baby. I just... I feel like you'd have appreciated my old body more, Toru.”

Satoru snaps his head towards her, eyebrows raised in disbelief. This was his last straw. She has to know what his pregnant, innocent wife does to him.

As he stands up slowly from the edge of the bed, he makes sure she's all eyes and ears. “Oh really now. Then I must give you a real reason to never regret your baby with me...”

Undoing the towel hooked on his dripping wet waist, the white haired man reveals his lower half of the riches. As her eyes set down, there comes in view an almost fully hard wet length of Gojo Satoru.

Pregnant Wife!Yn being taken aback, is unable to react for a good few first seconds, mouth agape. Light hue of red crawls up the neck to settle on her cheeks, when her husband hums in question.

“Mm? You see this? This is what you do to me, silly girl.”

Everything seemed suddenly more reasonable—Gojo stealing those frequent long gazes, his odd body language while he checks his pregnant wife out. Gojo gets aroused.

Pregnant Wife!Yn tears her gaze away from his manhood, cold sweat making her feel more or less like her currently out of shower dripping wet husband. Oh the thoughts that might be running in his perverted brain, all the ways he could take you in and you wouldn't be moving away with all the weight you bear of his baby, but comply, and relish, and whine.

“Oh-oh...” she mumbles shyly, the revelation lessening her insecurity effectively more than all sweet words combined could have ever had.

an. husband gojo >>> also this is my 1k readers special! ty for giving my writings your time, love y'all. likes & rbs are appreciated <33

tags: @anubisisthebomb @dianagracesworld @stellagrangerreads12 @momochina-sama @xxkay15xx @ruins-posts

[plutotheplum]

Resonance

sylus x fem!reader - read part 2!

summary: with the aether core's auction quickly approaching, you're growing desperate to resonate with sylus. fortunately for you, he has a suggestion... even if it is less conventional.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, p in v, fingering, teasing, spit kink, light choking, oral sex, praise kink, slightly ooc sylus?, minor canon divergence

wc: 4.5k

a/n: my first time writing a full fic or smut for that matter! given how many times sylus was trying to hold the mc's hand, i just figured he'd be into it. tried to be strong for zayne, but that didn't work out... sorry zayne. hope you guys like it! <3

also posted on ao3!

You’re starting to regret your plan to sneak into the N109 Zone. From being drugged to nearly being killed, you weren’t exactly faring well in the unfamiliar place. 

A deep sigh escapes you, fingers rubbing at your aching temples. The headache had gotten worse, the band around your head wrapping tighter and tighter. You couldn’t leave though, no matter how desperately you wanted to, not when the Aether Core’s other half was up for auction in a week’s time. Sylus had also been distant. Despite saving you from the night raid, he had hardly come to visit while you were staying at Onychinus’ base. The twins, Luke and Keiran had kept you company though. They weren’t as wicked as you thought them to be, only young men that were intent on working for Onychinus, driven by their own motivations. 

The week was bound to shorten however, and you were growing antsy. Any reservations you had about resonating with Sylus were fading quickly as the auction date grew closer. He was right in a sense, you two needed to resonate, especially after that night raid when the Wanderers had attacked. The auction wouldn’t go smoothly either, you knew that much. Sylus had money, but traitors were lurking everywhere. The shopkeeper’s voice rings in your head, reminding you that Sylus hadn’t been responsible for the explosions. Absolving him of being responsible had been hard enough.  

Plucking at the strap of your nightgown, you’re contemplating whether you should sneak out. Sylus had been accommodating enough so far, and you were tempted to push your boundaries. He had, after all, left a pile of clothes for you. Strangely enough, they were all in the right size, accompanied by Mephisto who had let out a loud caw before flying out, its claws making a playful swipe for your hair. 

A few more anxious plucks at the strap of the nightgown and you’re sneaking out. Feed pad against the floor softly, nightgown swaying as you move through the hallway. You pause when you hear voices, hearing the thud of your own heart as you hold your breath. It’s Sylus and another man. The conversation is too muffled to listen into, incoherent words blending in together.

The door creaks open and you’re tucking yourself behind a pillar, hiding in the dark. The sound of footsteps fades into the distance and the breath you’re holding escapes into a quiet exhale.

“You can come out now,” A voice drawls. Sylus. You hated how he could sense your presence. Stepping out from behind the pillar, your back straightens, walking into his room. It’s dark, just like him. Expensive furniture, books stacked onto a bookshelf and a bed on the other side of the large room. The curtains are open, moonlight flowing in through the windows, mixing with the ambient lighting. He sits behind his desk, eyes trained on you, nursing a cup of wine. “I see you’re wearing my gift,” he says, eyes dragging over the nightgown. You scoff, eyes narrowing at him, “It was hardly a gift, and it’s not like I could sleep in my Hunter uniform.”

He only takes another sip of wine, eyebrows raising. His nonchalance is making you feel irritated. “You’re avoiding me,” you announce, arms crossing over your chest, “is there any reason?”

He laughs, low and deep, “I thought you’d be grateful for the reprieve, or maybe you don’t hate me as much as you think you do.” That has you scowling. You want to wipe his stupid smug smile right off his face. “Relax,” he says, his fingers tapping against his desk as he leans back in his chair “I had more important things to attend to.” That catches your attention. More important things? Perhaps he’d have answers, and you needed answers, about the N109 Zone, about Onychinus, about anything . 

“Private matters,” he murmurs, red eyes keeping you in place “nothing for you to get involved with.”

Your scowl only grows deeper, almost forgetting what you came in here for. Your feet move across the carpet, hands landing on the edge of his desk in an attempt to look intimidating.

“I want to try resonating with you,” you say, deciding to change tactics.

He hums, red eyes boring into yours. “We already tried that, and unfortunately, you seem content on disliking me,” he replies.

A frustrated noise escapes you, “It’s your fault!” you accuse, glaring at him. 

He only stares back at you blankly. You feel like a child throwing a tantrum under his gaze. “Just- please? ” you ask, voice softening slightly. He’s letting out an inconvenienced sigh and your body is moving, red tendrils swooping around your body as he draws you closer to him. “Hand,” he demands. You reach forward, and his hand clasps yours, fingers lacing together. A deep breath gets sucked in through your mouth and your eyes squeeze shut, trying to channel your energy and resonate with him. You think about his stupidly handsome face, his low voice and the times he had saved you. Both of your knuckles are white with how tightly you’re squeezing his hand. There’s nothing though, absolutely nothing. No sparks, no glowing light, no Evol resonance. Letting out a defeated sigh, you let go of his hand. He stares back at you, eyes searching. “There is something wrong with you,” he says, drawing his hand back to take another sip of wine.

“Maybe if you tried being more likeable, this would be easier,” you retort, sending him another glare.

Sylus only laughs, his head tilting, “You weren’t so intent on resonating with me earlier. So much so that you shot me.”

“You shot yourself,” you correct, voice sharp, “and the change in mind is because of the auction.”

He peers over at you, eyes calculating. You can’t tell what’s going through his head, you can never tell. It puts you on edge. Sylus is a dangerous man and you aren’t able to predict a single one of his moves.

“You’re afraid of Wanderers,” he surmises, hands clasping in his lap. 

His chair rolls out a bit from his desk and your eyes are dipping to see his legs spread as he gets comfortable. There’s a stretch in the black trousers as his thighs strain against the material and you’re swallowing harshly, eyes snapping back up to meet his gaze. If he noticed your wandering eyes, he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m not scared!” you protest, feeling exasperated “I’m simply worried that something might happen. We both know that the Aether core might become unstable with energy fluctuations, and who knows what sort of Wanderers that flux might attract?”

“I am more than capable of handling any danger,” Sylus says, his tone dark, “or do you need a refresher of what happened after I saved you during the night raid?”

You wince at the memory. It appears he doesn’t like being underestimated. It’s even worse that you remember. There had been blood and screams when his Evol had eviscerated the men that had been there.

“No refreshers needed,” you reply quickly.

Your plan of resonating with him is ill-thought, you realise. You can’t get your mind to change, no matter how hard you try. Head hanging low, you decide to back off. Sylus is right at least. He would be capable enough of defeating any danger there, but his assurance isn’t enough to quell your doubts. Silence passes over you both, only interrupted by your feet shifting on the spot. 

“There is another way,” Sylus says slowly, a wicked grin spreading across his face, “it is less conventional of course, hardly attempted at.”

Hardly attempted at? Was he planning to put your life on the line? Maybe that would work out for him, weaken you enough to get you to resonate with him and then steal the Aether core lodged in your heart.

“And this way is…?” you prompt, raising your brows. 

His grin only grows wider. Sylus stands up, long legs stalking towards you until he’s standing in front of you, his red eyes staring down at you. His cold hand reaches out, fingers grabbing at your chin to tilt your head as his own head dips towards your ear. You shiver, feeling his warmth breath against your skin. “Sex,” he whispers.

Well, you certainly weren’t expecting that. Your cheeks are hot with embarrassment, gaze averted to the side.

He clicks his tongue, “Why so embarrassed? I thought you wanted to resonate, sweetie .” 

“You’re more insane than I thought,” you hiss, shoving at his chest. 

He lets out a throaty laugh, a smirk spreading across his lips as he stumbles back a bit at the force of your push. 

“You seemed desperate,” Sylus says when he stops laughing, “I was only letting you know of all the options.”

“That shouldn’t even be an option!” you snap, growing flustered by the second. Sex with Sylus ? He was a murderer and completely and utterly unhinged, not to mention the leader of an illegally run gang. You were not having sex with him. Your irritation festers, head falling into your hands as you stand there. He doesn’t say anything, only reaching for his wine and finishing off his cup. 

“Fuck me,” you sigh tiredly, rubbing at your aching temples again.

“Don’t tempt me,” he replies. Your head snaps upwards at that, glaring at him. Irritation has only led to you making a poor choice of words. 

“I’m leaving,” you say forcefully, holding your head high.

You should be leaving by now, storming off back to your room lying a few doors away. You should be, except your poor feet aren’t working.

He stares at you expectantly, a hint of smile on his face as his brows raise.

“I am leaving,” you repeat, voice hardening.

He only nods his head towards the door. Part of you wants to stay, to find out what he means, but the implications are clear and you won’t do that with him. Especially not him.

You don’t get very far though, the door lock fastening in place with a resounding click . His Evol curls around your body, the inky red and black lines tugging you back towards him. Sylus is reaching for you, his hand cupping your cheek. You have half the mind to lean into his touch. “I think we’ll both have more fun if you stay,” he whispers against your ear, arms drifting across your nightgown to wrap around your waist and tug you closer.

He peers down at you, and your breath catches in your throat. Without thinking, you’re leaning into him, body pressing against him.

“I think you want to stay,” he continues, hands sliding up to pet at your hips.

“You- you don’t know what I want,” you manage out, voice airy, “and I want to leave.”

He hums, hand finding your cheek again. His thumb rubs across your skin, and it sets you alight.

“Did you forget?” he murmurs, head dipping to meet your height, “I can see what people desire the most, and it appears you, my dear Hunter, desire me.”

You’re letting out a soft curse. You had forgotten about that stupid detail, about his ability to see what people desired. Squirming in his grasp, you try to get away, but he holds you still, letting out a disappointed sigh.

“Will you not indulge yourself?” he whispers, voice lilting. You think he could be a siren in disguise.

There’s a shuddering breath escaping you. You don’t get a chance to answer, not when he’s smiling against your cheek and pressing a soft kiss to it. Your hands find his shirt, forming fists to prevent your knees from buckling.

“We are the same,” he reminds you, lips brushing across your skin as he backs you up against the wall.

You manage a scoff, “We are not the same. You’ve done terrible things and killed people. You do whatever you want, sacrificing whoever you want if it betters your cause.” 

“Such insolent words,” he purrs, his hand curling around your neck “I have treated you with far more kindness than others that have crossed my path.”

A squeak leaves when he squeezes around your neck, your fingers trying to pry his ones away from your neck. He only tightens his grip, landing another kiss to your cheek and there’s heat between your thighs, a whine escaping you before you can swallow it down.

Sylus laughs, his hand falling away from your neck to grab at your hips instead.

“Caught you,” he coos, and with that his head is dipping, lips pressing against yours.

You whine again, arms wrapping around his neck. You’re too far gone to care, feeling the plushness of his lips against yours. It feels as though he’s trying to devour you, trying to swallow you whole.

The kisses are rough and harsh and his hands are slipping under your nightgown, sliding up the backs of your thighs to grasp at your ass. You gasp into his mouth, scrabbling at his shoulders. He grunts against your mouth, guiding your leg to hook over his hip.

“You are far more eager than you said you would be,” he murmurs, finally pulling away to let you breathe. 

Soft pants escape you, chest heaving as your hands drop from his shoulders, landing against his chest instead. He stares down at you, crimson eyes bright with arousal as they flit about your body.

“You’ve done something to me,” you mutter lamely, a weak excuse for responding so eagerly.

He raises his brows, his thumb brushing across your lips. He repeats the motion, over and over again until you're tempted to press a kiss to the pad of his thumb. You don’t get a chance, not when his thumb is pushing past your lips and meeting the resistance of your teeth. Blinking up at him, you tilt your head.

“You know I haven’t done anything to you,” he replies, “that would be too far, even for me. Now be good and open .”

He has to have done something to you. What other explanation is there for the way your mouth opens, sucking his thumb inside eagerly? Your head tips back as you suck on his thumb, tongue swirling around the digit. He groans, deep and unabashed and it has your hips bucking. “Patience,” he whispers, pushing his thumb further into your mouth. You gag slightly, sending him watery glare. 

Sylus only smiles back, keeping you in place as you suck on his thumb. The ache between your thighs is too hard to ignore, and your hand is sneaking down in an attempt to relieve the ache.

You’re horribly wet between your thighs, feeling your thighs practically slip against each other as you squirm. Your fingers only manage two full circles against your clit before Sylus is letting out a growl, tugging your hand free from where it had snuck into your panties. 

“I- I need-“ you whine, trying to sneak your hand between your thighs again.

“You need me ,” he hisses, eyes hard as he grabs at your wandering hand, gaze locking onto your slick fingers. There’s a sharp gasp that leaves you when his own mouth is enveloping around your fingers, his eyes on yours as he sucks them clean. You feel weak at the sight, a dreamy sigh escaping you. He smirks, forgetting your fingers to kiss you again. You taste yourself on his tongue, feeling the way he licks into your mouth, his hands squeezing at your hips.

He’s picking you up before too long, dumping you on his bed. You hide shyly when he rips your nightgown from your body, his eyes staring down at your bra and panties greedily. The bra goes next and he’s lowering his head, sucking your nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking against the pebbled bud. You don’t know what to do, arms wrapping around his neck to keep him there, trying desperately to seek relief. “So impatient,” Sylus mutters against your spit-slick skin, opting to suck on your other breast as his hand delves between your thighs. “Don’t stop,” you whimper, eyes slipping shut “please, don’t stop.”

He lets out a low laugh, fingers rubbing at you through your panties. “How obedient you’ve become. Squirming under my fingers like a little slut. Didn’t you say you hated me before?” he whispers. 

“I- I do hate you!” you grit out, but your hand is finding his wrist, keeping his hand there as you grind your clothed pussy against his fingers.

He scoffs disappointedly, body slinking down the bed until his nose is pressing against your panties and he’s breathing in. You feel as though you might faint at the depraved sight. His tongue laves across the fabric of your panties and you moan his name, fingers finding their home in his hair.

Sylus sucks at your clit through your panties, licking at the slick that seeps through the dampened fabric. 

“An intoxicating taste,” he comments, pressing a kiss to your thigh “I could do this for days.”

That little comment has you letting out a shuddering breath and words you might regret if your mind wasn’t so stupidly hazy. “I would let you,” you mumble, tugging his face closer to where you want him, feeling the press of his nose against your clit. He grins, red eyes staring up at you, “that can be arranged.” Sylus’s long fingers are pulling down your panties and he’s staring at your cunt, a deep groan escaping him. “Such a pretty pussy,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your clit. 

A strangled noise leaves you and his mouth is latching onto your pussy, sucking and licking like a man starved. Whines and whimpers escape you as you grind your hips against his tongue. He moans back into your cunt, the sound shooting up through your body, thighs twitching. Sylus keeps you pinned down, tongue laving against your wetness, drinking up your slick as it leaks. It’s almost too much, which is why your hand reaches for his. Sylus gives his own hand, fingers lacing with yours. You’re so lost in the haze of his tongue against you that you can barely hear his voice.

“Resonate,” he speaks into your pussy, his hand gripping yours tight. “What?” Your dazed eyes find his, bewildered. “I said, resonate ,” he repeats, sucking your clit into his mouth harshly. 

His teeth graze against the sensitive bud and your back is arching, hand squeezing his one back. Your Evol comes much easier this time, light emanating from both your hands as you resonate. The linkage takes place, and it has you reeling, body twitching as you come on his tongue. The light soon fades, his own Evol dimming down. He presses another soft kiss to your sensitive clit. “Some incentive and your body is reacting remarkably well,” he smiles down at you. You could hardly care about resonance at this point, pushing at his shoulders and crawling up onto his lap, lips pressing against his. He grunts at the sudden change in position, but kisses you back, his hands groping at your ass appreciatively. A whine gets swallowed up by his mouth, your hips rocking against his hardness wantonly. Your fingers pull at his shirt and he’s staring at you with spit-slick lips. He tugs his shirt free and you suck in a sharp breath, taking him in. While you do this, your hips pause in their movements and he’s letting out a click of his tongue, using his hands to guide you start moving again. “You resonated with me,” he whispers against your lips. “Hardly,” you murmur back, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t be like that,” he chastises, “I made you come on my tongue and this is how you treat me?” he pouts mockingly.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He coos, guiding your hips to move in the way he wants to, “moaning and whimpering for me. Perhaps I should’ve suggested this path from the start.” You try to glare at him, but he’s only gripping your cheeks, prying your mouth open before his tongue is lolling out, dropping a glob of spit into your mouth. “Swallow, baby.” You do so almost immediately, mouth opening eagerly for more. He laughs, almost in disbelief, kissing you messily this time, letting you suck on his tongue. “I need you,” you whisper, pressing his hand against your tummy “need you in me, Sylus.”

His eyes flash and he’s kissing you harder, clothed bulge grinding up into your bare pussy. The drag of his trousers is stimulating, catching on your clit in a way that has you shaking on his lap. “You’re filthy,” he hisses, sucking harsh kisses against your neck “such a filthy slut, begging for my cock.” You whine in agreement, nodding mindlessly. The world is moving then, your eyes finding the roof as he settles between your thighs. He kisses you over and over again, before he’s drawing back, slipping off the bed to pull his trousers down. A loud moan escapes you at the sight, his fat cock bobbing between his thighs. The tip is dark with arousal, veins prominent against the skin. Part of you wants it in your mouth, to swallow his cum and feel the weight of his cock on your tongue, and the other part wants it inside of you, filling you up. Embarrassment forgotten, you’re spreading your thighs in what you hope is an enticing manner, biting your lip and batting your eyelashes over at him. He glances down at your glistening pussy, licking his lips. “In me, please” you sweetly request. He hums, crawling over you. He grasps his cock, tapping the tip of it against your clit a few times. Pre-cum beads at the tip, a fat glob dripping down. Your hand shoots out before it’s wasted, fingers catching the glob. Smiling up at him, you suck your fingers into your mouth, letting out an appreciative moan at the taste. His eyes darken at the sight, fingers dimpling the flesh of your thigh as he squeezes.

“You’ll regret this when you have to leave me,” he warns, “I won’t be there to stuff your pussy full or lick that pretty cunt when you’re feeling needy.” “Then make it count,” you retort, legs wrapping around his hips. He lets out a short laugh, kissing you again. Soft whines leave you when he pushes in, his cock sinking deep into your pussy. You think you might be able to feel him in your throat, his cock stretching you out so deliciously that it has you writhing. 

“So fucking tight,” he breathes out, kissing along your jaw “so warm. I can feel you clenching around me, baby.” 

“Fuck,” you mewl, nails scratching down his back as he thrusts into you. In any other situation, you might be mortified at the sounds.

The squelch of your pussy, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he fucks you. It seems like his favourite thing to do is to hold your hands, though.

“So pretty for me,” he sighs, hips grinding deeper into your wet heat “such a good girl, hm? My good girl.”

The praise has your heart fluttering wildly, cheeks flushing.

“Oh, you like that,” he murmurs, his lips latching onto your tits again, “my pretty, little slut, all laid out for me. You could’ve had this cock earlier, I would’ve given it to you. I could’ve stuffed you full, or bent you over my bike and pounded this tight little cunt until you were screaming.” 

A hoarse moan leaves you. Your hands are squeezing his, legs tightening around him.

“That’s it,” he whispers encouragingly, “take my cock baby, it’s all yours.”

“Stop- stop talking like that,” you whine, writhing under his body.

“Why?” he responds, “does it feel better than you had imagined?”

“I wasn’t imagining-“

“Hush now,” he whispers, kissing you over and over again. You’re not sure how much more of this you could take.

His cock is pounding into you, punching out the air in your lungs. It feels too good, the throb of his cock and his whispered words against your ear. You hiccup, peering up into his crimson eyes. He stares right back at you, the look behind his eyes startlingly soft.

You shy away, head turning to the side, cheek squishing against the pillow. His hand turns your face back to him, nose nudging against yours gently. He kisses you softer this time, the sound of your kisses drowned out by the drag of his cock in your cunt.

“Come for me, baby” Sylus whispers, squeezing your hand “cream my cock.” 

It’s enough to have you shuddering around him, a whine of his name leaving your mouth as you cream on his cock, just like had told you to. He drinks up every noise, lips working against yours as he fucks into until he’s burying his cock deep inside, letting out a low growl against your ear as hot cum spurts from his tip, filling you up. 

You sigh at the feeling, body feeling limp. Sylus is slumped on top of you, his weight oddly comforting against yours. A kiss is pressed against his cheek and you can feel his smile from where he’s tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

It’s a little uncomfortable though, so you’re pushing at his chest to get him to roll off of you. Sylus does so with little noise and you’re curling up against his side, already missing the stretch of his cock.

“You were being nice,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

“Would you prefer it if I were rougher?” he asks in return, rubbing his hand against the curve of your hip soothingly.

You roll your eyes, pinching his bicep. 

“The auction will go smoothly,” he announces, his hand drifting to squeeze your ass, “we did resonate, after all.”

You had almost forgotten about that. A nod is your response and he’s dragging you closer to give you another kiss.

“Training begins tomorrow morning,” Sylus continues, “I need to see how strong we can be together.”

You’re letting out a groan, swatting his chest and shoving him away. 

“Leave me alone,” you mumble, burying your face into the pillows.

He smiles, arms curling around your waist to tug you back into his warm chest.

“Now, now. You were being so good earlier,” he whispers “I’d be happy to reward you, if you perform well tomorrow.”

His hand smooths across your stomach, hand drifting lower to delve between your thighs. You muffle the noise that threatens to spill out.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, eyes slipping shut.

“I think you like that about me,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers curling up inside of you, beginning to move at a leisurely pace. 

“You’re the worst, Sylus” you whisper, hips rocking as you try to get his fingers to sink deeper.

“Yet here you are, trying to fuck yourself on my fingers,” he purrs, his arm winding around your neck. You feel him squeeze and you’re whimpering, sinking your teeth into his bicep as he holds you in place, letting his fingers fuck in and out of you.

It’s going to be a long night.

[starcrossedmusings]

Pretty Hands

Pairing: best friend!Yunho x f!reader WC: 3.2k Warnings: eventual smut, reader has a thing for Yunho's hands (who doesn't??), swearing, fingering, choking, a little bit of degradation (he compares her to a whore literally once), PRAISE so much praise, Yunho talks reader through it (you're welcome), pov is kinda all over the place just let it be, Yunho is absolutely WHIPPED for reader teehee, probably some other things that I missed (let me know)

Summary: You and Yunho have been friends for years, and you tell each other everything. He suddenly takes a much more vested interest in your love life when you can't stop mentioning your newest interest.

A/N: This is entirely self indulgent and also I just wanted to get something full posted. The Phantom fic is turning out to be much longer than I originally anticipated (and so did this one once I started writing it). Let me know what you think♡

Stepping into Yunho's apartment had always felt like coming home, and today was no exception. You take your shoes off in the tiled entryway and pad your way through the main living area, calling out to him as you walk.

"Yun? I'm here!"

His muffled response flows down from the end of the hall, "Bedroom!"

You make your way through the back hallway and enter his room, finding him exactly where you thought he would be, focused in on his computer. There's a selection of empty drink cans and snack wrappers scattered around his desk, which tells you that whatever he's currently building on Minecraft has probably occupied the majority of his day so far. He pauses the game and turns his chair to face you.

"Whats up?"

"Got bored at home and my roommate isn't even trying to muffle her pornstar moans for her new boy toy."

Yunho barks out a laugh, "Does she seriously sound--"

"Just like it Yun I can't make this shit up. I'm starting to think maybe they're recording themselves in there."

Yunho wiggles his eyebrows as he stretches his arms up and over his head, leaning back in his chair. "Well, if I ever see your living room on Pornhub I'll be sure to let you know"

You crinkle your nose. "Ew. I do NOT need to know that."

"Whatever, don't act like you haven't been talking to me for weeks about how horny you are. If I have to hear about your vibrator dying one more time I'm gonna buy you a new one myself."

"You try getting unintentionally edged three nights in a row with a full charge, it's some bullshit Yun. Besides, I'm allowed to complain about my dry spell."

Yunho scoffs, tone playful and lighthearted. "Dry spell? It's been what? Two months?"

"It's been three thank you very much." You move to sit on his bed.

"Well some of us haven't had sex in much longer."

"Oh, please, that girl that San was messing around with was all over you at his birthday party last month, don't tell me you didn't take that opportunity."

Yunho raises his eyebrows in shock, leaning forward in his chair. "Wait, really?"

"Oh my GOD Yun you are so oblivious. Yes really. She was all giggly and twirling her hair and shit. That's like...girl flirting basics."

"I am not oblivious, I am actually quite observant. I could tell you things about yourself you don't even know. I just have my sights set on someone and that someone is not her."

You shoot him an incredulous look and snort out a laugh, leaning back to lay down completely on his bed, legs dangling off the edge. "Sure Yun, whatever makes you feel better."

You hear Yunho stand from his chair and feel his weight shift onto the mattress. He appears in your vision, a challenging playful sparkle in his eyes as he peers down at you. "Okay, fine. I can tell that you're trying out a new perfume, you just went shopping because your leggings are a different brand than you usually wear, and I know that you washed your hair last night because you're wearing it all the way down today."

You do your best to ignore the way your stomach summersaults at his attention to detail about you and your routines. You roll onto your side and prop your head up on your elbow, matching his challenging gaze. "Okay Sherlock Holmes. What kind of underwear am I wearing then?"

Yunho pauses to consider before responding "a thong, probably black." You grin triumphantly and lean in just a bit closer.

"Wrong. I'm not wearing any. You lose!" You stick your tongue out playfully at him and he swats your shoulder, falling back onto his mattress.

"You set me up!"

"Face it Yun, I'm just better than you."

"Yeah yeah, whatever" Yunho pouts, voice hightening slightly from surprise. He can feel a slight redness creeping up his ears and prays his hair has grown long enough to cover it. 'I'm not wearing any.' He clears his throat. "So why go commando? You finally planning to seduce your new conquest?"

"He is not a new conquest, he doesn't even know I like him."

"He will once he knows you aren't wearing any underwear for him" Yunho jokes, smiling cheekily. You smack at his chest.

"I didn't want to do laundry last night, asshole. Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"You're one to talk" he mutters under his breath.

You sit up fully and reach for one of the pillows at the top of his bed, slamming it down on his face. "Jeong Yunho I swear to god!" On your second swing, he manages to catch the pillow with one hand and pry it from your grasp, but not before giving you an entirely unhelpful image of his long fingers gripping the plush material.

"What?? All I ever hear you talk about lately is how tall and handsome this dude is and how much his hands make you drool."

"You sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm pissed that I have to hear all about him and don't even get to know what the dude's name is."

"I told you, I'm gatekeeping this time. You run your mouth too much."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Ugh FINE whatever," Yunho chucks the pillow back towards you and you dodge it, leaving both pillows on one side of the headboard, "You're so agitating."

"You know you love me Yun. But just for the attitude," You adjust both pillows and shuffle your way back until you're leaned against both of them, "no pillow for you for tonights doomscrolling session."

He huffs a laugh and scoots up to meet you, pulling out his phone and settling in against the headboard.

An hour later you get up to go to the bathroom, and when you get back Yunho has stolen both of his pillows. You frown and cross your arms. "Hey, asshole, those were mine!"

"Yeah?" He taunts playfully, "Well they were mine to begin with, and my back is killing me. So deal." You roll your eyes and cross back over to the bed, crawling over the side you've been sitting on and curling yourself into Yunho's side to rest your head against his chest. You feel him tense slightly underneath you before he moves one of his arms around your shoulders to let you lay more comfortably.

"There's no way in hell I'm sitting up against that cold ass metal frame you call a headboard." You mutter as you begin scrolling. Yunho's chuckle rumbles through his chest and tickles your cheek. You both sit in silence for a while, content to scroll on your phones. Eventually, you turn to look up at him from his chest.

"I meant to ask how your new project has been going. Whatever you were building when I came in looked pretty intense." You can see the faint tinge of red trail up his ears and neck--a telltale sign that whatever you caught him building makes him embarrassed. You sit up, propping your weight on your elbow and placing a hand on his chest to shove him slightly. "Ooooo now you have to tell me what it is!"

"It's embarrassing..."

"Tell me tell me tell me tell me--"

"Okay fine, fuck. I'll tell you if you promise not to laugh--"

"I won't I swear!"

"Pinky promise?" He holds his pinky out to you, and you raise a hand from his chest. Before you can lace your pinky in his, he pulls his hand up above his head. "I'm serious, Y/N, if you laugh I'll have no choice but to tickle you to death."

He's definitely not stalling because he has to come up with a reply, because he certainly hasn't been building a treehouse for you in what he hopes will one day be a shared server. Yunho thinks to himself that he would rather die than let you find out.

You scoff, "I won't laugh...and even if I did I'm not ticklish so your threat is a moot point."

Yunho drops his hand down onto the mattress. "Bullshit."

"It's not. I don't have a ticklish bone in my body."

"Liar."

You shake your head, and Yunho takes the opportunity to gently press the pads of his fingers into the sides of your ribs. The sensation hits you almost immediately, and you feel the tight feeling in your chest as he begins tickling you. You squeal and thrash around in his grasp, trying desperately to get away from his assault.

"Yun stop it--"

"Not until you admit you're a liar!" You begin to giggle and manage to roll away from him, but Yunho is quick to follow. He swings a long leg over your hips and pins you beneath him, a single large hand trapping both of your wrists above your head while the other dances across your ribs. "Admit it," He sings out.

"Okay! Okay fine I'm a liar!" You gasp out between laughter. Yunho beams down at you and immediately stops tickling your sides, leaving you panting underneath him--

Oh fuck...you're panting underneath him.

He can almost feel the shift in the air as he stares down at you. He knows he should move, just roll off of you and make up some bullshit lie about what he was building. You like someone else, and he clearly wasn't getting out of the friend zone any time soon. He's just making a fool of himself...and yet he just can't bring himself to stop memorizing the way you look splayed out beneath his hips. Eventually he forces himself to stop staring at the way your chest rises and falls or the sliver of your tummy that's poking out from underneath your shirt that's riding up. He locks eyes with you.

Your voice comes out softer than he's ever heard you speak before. "Hey Yun?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that mystery guy I've been telling you about? The one with the pretty hands?"

A twinge of annoyance flairs in his stomach and he can't help but grumble out his reply. "Yeah?"

"I'll give you a hint. He's got me pinned to the mattress right now."

Yunho feels his heart drop deep into the pit of his stomach.

"Like...like right now he does?"

You laugh lightly. "Yeah, right now, Yun."

Yunho swallows thickly as his head starts spinning. He leans down much slower than he would have liked to, giving you plenty of time to take it back--to laugh at him and tell him you got him good. He feels like his whole body lights ablaze when you close the final gap between your lips, and suddenly he is kissing you.

In almost any circumstance that you had seen Yunho kissing someone, he was always fast-paced--hot and heavy petting in the corner of a darkened bar, dares in drunken party circles--which is why you were floored at the reverence he was kissing you with now. His mouth was steady and intense against yours, his hands roaming slowly across the expanse of your torso like he was memorizing the feel of something priceless. You gently pull your hands from his grasp and tangle them in his hair, pulling him closer and matching his intensity with your fervor. You feel his hands make their way to the lower hem of your shirt, and your skin erupts in goosebumps as you feel his fingers ghost along the sliver of skin there. He breaks the kiss and you feel his breath fan across your face as he pants. His hands gently make their way to rest just under your shirt, not quite pushing the fabric up. He locks eyes with you.

"Is this okay?"

You chuckle gently. "Yes, Yun, you can touch me. I want you to touch me." You watch his eyes darken and his hands start running up your torso, pulling your shirt up with them.

"Where do you want me to touch you, baby?"

You exhale heavily and arch your back into his touch. "Anywhere...everywhere...I don't care."

Yunho smirks and feels his ego inflate. "You don't care? Hmm..." He starts planting kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck. Slow. Teasing. "If I remember correctly, you seemed pretty keen about having my hands in some specific places baby. Can you refresh my memory?"

The low whine that escapes your throat nearly sends him spiraling. "You know where...don't make me say it."

He does know, but there's nothing he wants to hear more right now than to hear you say it. He brings one hand up to your chest, cupping one of your boobs and squeezing gently as he continues peppering your neck with kisses. "Was it here? Or..." His hand trails back down and grips your hip possessively, "Here, maybe?" He hears you huff and feels your hand wrap around his wrist. You try to tug it up, and he chuckles softly but allows you to move his hand. He nips your earlobe and asks lowly, "Where do you need my hands baby?" He feels his cock twitch in his sweats when you wrap his fingers around your throat, guiding him to squeeze the sides gently. Your hands run down his chest and drop to your sides as he squeezes a little harder. "Fuck, look at you. So pretty with my hand around your neck."

You whine and buck your hips up, desperately looking for friction. Yunho coos as he looks down at you, wanting to have the image burned into his memory. He adjusts his position so he's sat on one side of you and brings his free hand to your thighs, squeezing the flesh there and watching the way you spread your legs for him. "Pretty girl, I need you to use your words. Spreading your legs like a whore isn't gonna get you what you want." He revels in the way you throw your head back onto the mattress and close your eyes, frustration evident already on your face.

"Need your fingers, Yun. Please."

Holy shit, he could combust right then and there. He smiles and traces his hands along the inside of your clothed thighs. "Good girl. So polite for me." He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and pulls them down and off, leaving you bare from the waist down. "Sit up for me baby. I want you between my legs."

Yunho sits on the edge of the mattress and allows you time to sit up, moving to sit in between his thighs. He hooks your legs over his, leaving you spread and completely at his mercy. A shiver runs down your spine as the pads of his fingers run across your thighs and you gasp as they brush against your core. He presses kisses into your neck and chuckles, "You're already soaking wet, what's got you all bothered hmm? I've barely touched you..." Yunho hums and teases your entrance with this middle finger. He can feel you clenching. "Do you like my hands that much baby? All it takes is a little choking and you're putty for me." He pushes two fingers inside, pumping slowly and curling back to find your sweet spot. He feels pride flare through his chest at the noise you make, a mix between a whine and a moan that eggs him on.

Your toes curl as Yunho almost immediately finds your g-spot. The pace he sets is almost perfect, and when he begins rubbing tight circles on your clit your eyes roll back into your head. The pleasure is a building wave, and it's all you can do to keep yourself remotely still as he continues pumping his thick fingers in and out. "Oh my god, Yun, please don't stop!" You clench helplessly around his fingers and let your head roll back to rest on his shoulder.

"Awe baby I'm not gonna stop. Not until I see how pretty you look cumming all over me. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?" he coos, bringing his other hand back up to your throat and squeezing lightly. "Will you cum all over my fingers? I bet you want to right? Wanna come on my fingers while I squeeze this pretty neck of yours?"

You whine and preen at his words and arch your back. Your legs begin to shake as Yunho's circling on your clit quickens pace just slightly, the thrusts of his fingers audible from the squelching between your thighs. Your breath quickens.

"My pretty girl, you're such a mess for me, aren't you? Can you hear how wet you are? All soaked for me? I bet your hands don't feel as good as mine hmm?"

You shake your head no violently, whining as he continues to talk lowly into your ear. Your orgasm builds quickly, and at this point you have no faith in your ability to speak coherently.

"No, they don't do they? I want you to show me how good my hands feel baby. Let go for me, sweetheart."

Your breath catches in your throat as you tip over the edge, and the feeling of your release washes over you. Your whole body jolts in his grasp as he continues pumping his fingers. You feel him squeeze your throat gently, just enough pressure to remind you that he's got you.

"Atta girl, look at you! Doing so good for me." You whine and buck your hips, orgasm still riding through your body. Yunho nips at your neck lightly and slows his pumping to a stop as you continue to shake. "That's it baby, just grind on them for me." The final aftershock of your orgasm finishes, and you go limp in his arms, leaning all of your weight back into his chest and breathing heavily.

Yunho pulls his fingers out and admires the mess you made on them before popping them into his mouth. He's still rock hard, and the taste of you on his fingers makes him twitch again. He'll definitely need your help with that later. He uses the hand around your neck to brush a stray hair from out of your face. "How are you feeling?"

You huff out a breathless laugh and turn your face to nuzzle into his neck. "How do you think I feel? That was...wow."

He can't help the goofy smile that crosses his face. "Oh really? Tell me more, I'd like a full report." He jokes, pulling the two of you down to snuggle on his bed. He grabs a throw blanket from your side and pulls it over the two of you and nearly melts when you curl closer to him, burying your face into his chest.

"Give me a few minutes to recover and I'll show you exactly how I'm feeling right now." Yunho rubs a hand up and down your back.

"I look forward to that."

"And then afterwards you're going to show me what you've been building."

Yunho chuckles and kisses the top of your head. No way in hell.

[sapphire-writes]

the winner takes it all

Art x Reader x Tashi

summary: winners deserve rewards, and Tashi is more than happy to spoil her star athlete with the help of her ever-dutiful husband.

word count: 2.7k

rating: mature/explicit/18+

warnings: porn no plot (deep breath) m/f/f dynamic, threesome, dom!Tashi, switch!Art, sub!Reader, p in v, creampie, overstim, hair pulling, titty play, use of toys, praise, teasing, spanking, orgasm denial, oral (fem receiving), oral (reader giving fem), face sitting

note: hope you enjoy! my first non-HOTD related fic!

link to other stories from me!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 💙

Your match had taken place several hours ago. You’d been anxious the entire time, but ended up winning, much to you and your coach’s pleasure. The ride back to the hotel was torturous, as well as the following mandatory ice bath, sauna, shower, and footage review. It was the routine you’d followed ever since Tashi began coaching you.

She was nothing if not thorough.

After tying up several loose ends, including Tashi grilling you for every point you missed, every fault she could see when she paused the footage, you now found yourself in a more pleasurable position. 

Art held your legs open as he continued his even thrusts, cock sliding against the walls of your pussy at a torturous pace. Tashi sat beside you, clad only in a silk robe and lace panties, brushing some hair from your face that was sticking to your forehead with perspiration.

You had the suite to yourself for the night. Tashi and Art’s little girl was safely tucked away with her grandmother in another elegant suite on the other side of the hotel. Another part of the routine. 

“Tash….”

“You did well out there today,” she interrupts, reaching beside her to the end table drawer and pulling out her Hitachi wand. It buzzes to life as she turns it on and a strangled whine leaves your throat as she presses it to your clit,  “See what happens when you put in the extra time? That backhand of yours is a lethal weapon now.”

“Fuck!” is the only response you’re able to give as Art moans at the vibrations as he continues to pound into you. 

She likes you best like this, fucked dumb on Art’s cock, mindlessly agreeing to her plans for future matches, eyes rolling back in your head. Different moves she’ll have you practice. How hard she plans to work you on the court the following morning. 

“Come on, come for me,” Tashi insists, hand trailing over your breasts, “What’s my girl need to come, hm? Need these pretty tits attended to?” She pinches your nipple for emphasis and your jaw slacks, a pleasurable current in your gut winding tighter and tighter with the continuous stimulation.

Art slings your left leg over his shoulder, pressing a tender kiss to your calf as he does so. 

The new angle sends him deeper inside of you and you clench, mouth falling open with an uncontrollable moan.

“That’s it,” Tashi murmurs, eyes never leaving your face, “Feels so good doesn’t it? Art knows how to treat his girl, huh? Don’t you baby?”

“Yes,” he hissed between clenched teeth, beads of sweat forming on his brow, “Fucking perfect pussy, god—”

Tashi removes her hand from your breast, taking hold of your chin.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes water with pleasurable tears but you do as she asks, always keen to follow her instructions. The tennis court, the bedroom, it was all the same playing field in the end.

“Come on baby,” she murmurs, leaning down and pressing a kiss against your lips, “Come for me, you’ve been such a good girl, you deserve it.”

“Fuck!” Art courses as your pussy tightens around him, “Oh uhhh—”

“I’m cumming,” you helplessly whimper, the words nearly a sob, “Tashi…..fuck….Art fuck feels so—-“ your abdominal muscles tense as your reach your peak, white-hot ecstasy flooding your body as a shudder rolls through you. 

Tashi smiles as you come, fingers dancing down your neck. Art fucks you through it, leaning forward to pound into you at a harder rhythm, chasing his imminent release. It’s only then Tashi glances at him, her smile dropping slightly.

“Don’t cum.”

Art’s hips stutter as your walls continue to flutter around his thick length, his jaw slacks, eyes watering as he looks at his wife.

“Tash—”

“I said no,” she insists, shutting off the vibrator and throwing it to the side. Leaning forward, she captures your lips in a kiss. She sits up, a smile on her face as she kisses Art as well. He whimpers against her lips, hard and pulsating inside you still. But Tashi never changes her mind.

“You want to come, you should try winning.” 

“Tash please,” Art’s voice was strained, Adam’s apple bobbing, his expression pained, “please let me come.”

“Yeah?” She taunts moving up to kiss him. She brings her lips close to his, his eyes fluttering shut as she barely brushes the soft pout of her mouth against his. His lips part, head tilting to chase her. 

You watch from below them, still trying to slow your breathing. You like watching them dance, this push and pull they have. It’s hypnotizing, the effect she has on him. On you. Tashi pushes his chest and his eyes flutter open.

“Sit.” 

Tashi nods to the chair in the corner of the room. Art hesitates and she raises a brow when he doesn’t move quickly enough. Teeth clenched, Art unsheathes his aching cock from your warmth, hissing as he pulls completely out. Your breath hitches at the loss of him, and you gaze up at Tashi waiting for her next instruction. 

Fully naked, Art walks to the chair, cock hard and swinging between his legs as though he’s nothing more than a scolded pup. 

Tashi stands walking over to him, and Art tilts his chin to meet her eyes. Slowly, she lets the silk robe fall from her shoulders, and she takes her time removing it and placing it on his lap. You can see his erection through the soft purple fabric. 

“Hold that for me, would you?” she asks, turning back to face you.

You can’t help it as your gaze falls to her breasts; supple and mouth-watering, dark nipples taunting you. The dip of flesh between her abdominal muscles, a spot you’ve run your tongue along countless times now. Tashi rejoins you on the bed, lying next to you, looping her thumbs in the waistband of her lace panties. 

“You want a taste, baby?” she asks, smiling slightly at you.

You nod eagerly as she beckons you with a tilt of her chin. Scrambling into a kneeling position you slot yourself between Tashi’s toned legs, replacing her fingers and gently pulling off her lace panties, tossing them to the side and revealing her glistening sex.

Two things turn Tashi on. Telling you and Art what to do, and tennis.

Tashi brings her hand down her front tracing down her toned stomach until she reaches the soft curls that frame her pussy. She takes two fingers and spreads herself before you. 

“Come on, baby,” she murmurs, her voice low and seductive, “Eat up.”

She’s an enchantress, you swear, using some sort of siren song to pull you in. Even here between her legs, she’s in charge; it’s you who’s helpless. You lower your face toward her pussy, already drunk on the scent of her even before your tongue reaches her warm slit. 

You couldn’t hold in your moan of pleasured relief even if you tried as your tongue dipped lower, parting her lips and dipping inside her right entrance. There’s something about her, how she feels, how she tastes. You’ll never get enough of it. You nuzzle closer to her, nose bumping against her clit and she rewards you with a breathy sigh. 

“Art,” she calls as you eagerly continue lavishing her pussy with attention, “How’s the view?”

“Fucking breathtaking,” he answered, his voice strangled, “Tashi please….”

“She’s so good,” Tashi praises, nails taking against your scalp sending pleasurable tingles down your spine, “Put that pretty mouth of yours where it counts. Show me how badly you want it.” 

Your tummy flutters with excitement and you suction your lips around Tashi’s clit, sucking the sensitive button as you hear Art stand up. 

“Put that ass up,” Tashi instructs you, her voice airy, nearly breathless. You arch your back, leaning forward into her as Art’s hands cup the front of your thighs. 

You wiggle as he kneels behind you, his breath on your pussy before his lips meet your pussy. You moan against Tashi’s cunt as Art trails his hands up your thighs, spreading your cheeks wider as he feasts on you, tongue dipping inside of you and then up to circle your clit. 

“I’ll make you a deal baby,” Tashi purrs, back arching off the bed slightly as your tongue circles her pearl, “If you make her finish before I do, I’ll let you come.”

Art groans against you, finishing with a frustrated whine as Tashi chuckles. You glance up at her, drinking in the blissed-out expression on her face, that sly smirk that reaches her eyes. 

“Deal?”

Art doesn’t hesitate, he simply redoubles his efforts, tongue entering you with desperate precision. Your lips falter, the pleasure messing with your coordination as Art ups the ante. You feel him pull away from you, and hear the wet pop of his fingers entering his mouth and leaving just as quickly. Then he’s breaching you, fingers slipping inside you with ease from the continued attention following your first orgasm.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as Art fingers you. He sets a rough pace, placing his opposite hand on your asscheek and squeezing the soft flesh. 

The two fingers he has plunged inside you to the knuckle curl perfectly against your spongy walls, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time he curls his fingers. 

“Come on,” Art murmurs, slapping your ass, “I know you want to come again.”

“Yes she does,” Tashi agrees, unable to help herself. 

“Greedy girl, never satisfied with just one, huh?” Art teases and Tashi chuckles at his efforts. Art never speaks to her like that, only you. Tashi prefers the more dominant role over both you and her husband.

Still eager to please her you sloppily continue eating her out, lost in the sensation of Art's fingers in your pussy, Tashi’s fingers in your hair—

“Come on baby,” Art encourages, though there’s a hint of desperation in his tone. He wants to come just as badly as you do.

“Such a messy girl,” Tashi coos, propping herself on her elbows, “Oh but so so good. I’m getting close…”

Art slaps your ass again, curling his fingers against your g-spot, and it’s no use. Your jaw slacks and your head lolls against the softness of Tashi’s inner thigh as your walls clench around Art’s fingers, your release barreling through you like a freight train. It knocks the air from your lungs, a desperate cry leaving you as Art makes a noise of triumph. 

“So you are capable of winning,” Tashi snaps, a little too cold to be simply a bedroom taunt. Art stares at her, before she sits up, “I haven’t come yet.”

“Let me,” you murmur, looking up at her, still lying on her thigh. She smiles down at you, stroking your cheek.

“You’re a sweet girl,” she praises, “But Art won. I think he deserves to finish in that sweet little pussy of yours. Would you like that?”

“Tash…I can’t,” you whimper, still sensitive and tingly from your previous orgasms, “I can’t come again.”

Her smile fades back to that familiar smirk. She glances at Art, nodding at the bed. Cock still standing at attention Art joins you both, lying on his back. Tashi’s hand winds its way in your hair, tugging you not so gently from your resting place. You follow her lead like a puppet on a string. 

“Don’t be ungrateful,” she accuses, pushing you towards Art’s lap, “This is a reward. You deserve this.”

Art’s cock pokes at the soft plush of your inner thighs as you straddle him. His hands move automatically towards your hips, rough thumbs brushing against you leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

He looks at you with wide, watery eyes, blonde hair a tousled mess.

“One more?” he asks, and you know at that moment if you tapped out, he’d respect it. Art was never one to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form. 

He rubs your hips again, a soothing motion, and you lean into his touch. Something deep inside you tightens with want. You need him. You need her. You inhale a shaky breath and lift your hips, lining the swollen head of his cock with your entrance. Sinking onto him slowly like this is something else. The way he stretches your insides as you come to rest against him is a feeling you’ll never get used to. 

“Good girl.”

Art’s head falls back against the pillows and then Tashi pulls them from underneath him. Her husband knows immediately what she’s after and tilts his head back as she climbs onto his face. 

Tashi sits on her husband’s face as though it’s her throne. As though he was made for her and no one else. 

She pulls you closer as you lazily begin to ride Art. Lips crashing against yours she kisses you passionately, rolling her hips at the pace you began. Soon you find your rhythm, moving in sync together as Art moans beneath you, happy to pleasure both his girls at once. Tashi’s hand finds your hair again and she tugs your head back, latching her lips against your neck.

She’s fond of leaving marks. Art is hers through their marriage, but she likes to remind you that you belong to her as well. 

Art bucks his hips up into you, the head of his cock nudging perfectly against your sweet spot, just as his fingers had moments before. A whine leaves your lips and Tashi laughs against your neck. 

“He’s good at that, yeah?” she murmurs, placing soft kisses up your neck and returning to your lips, “Good with his cock, good with his…his tongue.” Her eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy as Art does something you can only imagine.

He moans again, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he decides the pace you’ve set simply isn’t enough. Art’s hands dip below the curve of your ass right where it meets your thighs, lifting you with ease up and down on his cock. He meets you halfway, thrusting up into you as he slams you up and down. 

Your whines increase in volume, turning into elongated moans swallowed by Tashi’s kiss. You can feel her nipples pressing against your own and you reach out to caress them. Tashi gyrates her hips on Art’s face and his pace becomes more frantic as he plants both feet on the mattress fucking up into you harder, faster, deeper.

“I—” 

Words are lost to you as your mind goes fuzzy; that familiar pressure in your gut builds, a wave of pleasure cresting deep within you. Tashi’s mouth captures yours once more as she snakes a hand down your front, nimble fingers circling your clit giving you just what you need to reach your end. Again.

With that the rubber band in your belly snaps and you come with a startled cry, pleasured tears leaking from the corner of your eyes as you clench around Art’s thick cock. His hips falter only for a moment as he chases his own release, and soon you feel his cock twitch within your warm walls, his spend blooming inside of you.

Tashi smiles proudly as you and Art ride out your highs, the pair of you moaning, limbs jerking from the exertion. Everything’s a game to her. And she always wins. 

“Just like that,” she murmurs, hips still swirling around Art’s face, “Oh god I’m—” 

You watch as her thighs tense, her head dips and her eyes squeeze shut as her orgasm crashes over her at last. 

Carefully you ease Art’s softening cock from within you and lay between the both of them. Tashi on your left, Art on your right. You’re facing Tashi, watching as she comes down from her high, feeling Art’s chest press against your back.

It’s quiet for a moment, the soft sound of a kiss being pressed to your shoulder the only noise in the room. Art snakes a hand around your waist, fingers brushing the soft skin of your tummy. You giggle slightly at the ticklish sensation which causes him to bite down gently on your shoulder. Tashi simply watches, wetting her lips. 

“On the courts at five tomorrow,” she says, before standing, “I’ll run us a bath.”

Art sighs and you can’t help but agree with his subtle frustration. Back to business.

“Whatever you say, coach.”

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected 🩵

[solxamber]

"Requests are open-"

The sound of my feet frantically hitting the floor can be heard from a great distance away—

I've been following for a few months & all your posts make me giggle or smile, my coworkers probably think I'm crazy at this point, lmao.

For the request!! I was hoping to see if you could write the Overblot boys' (tho if possible, subbing Trey in for Riddle) reaction to finding out the reader— who is known for being touch-averse— finds him to be a comfort person & noticing that they get really touchy around him as a means for comfort. I had it in mind as being romantic, but pre-feelings realized cuz I live for the yearning & squirmy crush phase stuff, it's so sweet.

All of them are touch-starved, you can't tell me otherwise.

— 🐈‍⬛ ♡

Ahh I'm so glad you like my work omg <3 I'm so glad they made you smile 🫶🫶

I've also kept Riddle and added in Trey, I hope that's fine!

Overblot Gang + Trey Being your Comfort Person

Riddle Rosehearts

When you unexpectedly reach out and grab Riddle’s sleeve during a quiet walk through Heartslabyul’s rose garden, he stiffens like you’ve hit him with a stun spell. His gaze flicks from your hand to your face, his cheeks blooming a crimson that rivals the roses around him.

At first, he assumes it’s accidental, but when your fingers remain firmly gripping his arm as if seeking reassurance, his brain short-circuits.

You’re known for keeping your distance from others, so this gentle touch feels monumental to him. Later, when he learns that you see him as a comfort, his heart aches in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying. They trust me like that? he thinks, and suddenly every shared moment feels heavier with meaning.

The next time you casually rest your hand on his shoulder during a meeting, Riddle doesn’t shy away. Instead, he adjusts his posture ever so slightly, allowing your touch to linger. His ears burn as he stumbles over his words, but deep down, he’s elated.

He’s never been someone’s safe haven before, and he’ll do everything in his power to protect that bond, even as his stomach flips at every accidental brush of your hand.

Trey Clover

Trey’s observant nature makes it impossible for him to miss the way you’ve grown more touchy around him. At first, it’s subtle—the occasional tug on his sleeve or a gentle nudge when he’s teasing you—but when you lean against his arm one evening after a long day, his mind comes to a screeching halt.

He keeps his composure, of course, because it’s Trey. But inside? He’s a mess of confusion and delight.

The realization hits him when you unconsciously cling to him during a particularly chaotic Scarabia dinner. Others are bustling around, and you seek him out, your fingers brushing his wrist as if grounding yourself. He hides his smile behind a sip of water, warmth spreading in his chest.

Trey wonders why you feel so at ease with him when you’re so cautious around others. But when you nervously explain one day that he makes you feel safe, his heart swells.

“That’s a lot of trust to put in me,” he teases gently, though he’s secretly over the moon. When you start leaning against his shoulder more often, Trey welcomes it with a soft chuckle, letting his hand brush yours in quiet reassurance.

Leona Kingscholar

The first time you plop yourself beside Leona on one of the lounge’s sprawling couches, sitting far closer than you normally do, he barely raises an eyebrow. But when your shoulder brushes against his, and you don’t immediately move away like everyone else seems to around him, his ear flicks in surprise. Leona’s no stranger to physical contact—mostly unwelcome—but this? This is new.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize you’re touch-averse with everyone else. When you casually rest your head against his arm after a particularly exhausting day, Leona pauses mid-yawn, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looks down at you. He doesn’t say anything at first, just observes the way your usually guarded self seems to relax around him.

“You got a habit of using me as your personal pillow, herbivore?” he finally drawls, smirking lazily to hide the strange warmth blooming in his chest.

When you shrug and mutter something about him being comfortable, Leona pretends to scoff, but the slight twitch of his tail gives him away. He’s never been anyone’s comfort before, and while he doesn’t admit it, the thought fills him with a quiet pride.

From then on, he doesn’t push you away. Instead, he adjusts himself so you can lean against him more comfortably, his tail wrapping loosely around your ankle like it has a mind of its own.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul nearly drops the pen he’s holding the first time you rest your hand lightly on his arm. He freezes in his seat at the Mostro Lounge, blinking rapidly as if trying to process what just happened. You’re careful about personal space—he’s noticed that much—so this sudden display of trust leaves him flustered beyond belief.

“Ah, are you feeling alright?” he stammers, his face quickly turning pink.

You wave off his concern, but the touch lingers. Azul spends the rest of the day overanalyzing the moment. What does it mean? Do they… no, surely not.

It happens again the next time you visit the lounge. You sit closer than usual, your knees brushing his under the table as you casually chat.

Azul tries to focus on the conversation, but his brain is fixated on the way you seem so comfortable around him. When he learns that you find him comforting, Azul’s heart skips a beat.

He tries to play it cool, but the truth is, he’s thrilled. You trust him, and that trust feels far more valuable than any deal he’s ever made. The next time you reach out, Azul doesn’t flinch. Instead, he lets your fingers linger on his sleeve, savoring the quiet warmth of your touch.

Jamil Viper

Jamil is used to people keeping their distance, intentionally or otherwise. His sharp gaze and composed demeanor tend to put others on edge. That’s why, the first time you rest a hand on his shoulder during one of his endless tasks for Scarabia, he’s so stunned that he almost drops the tray he’s carrying.

He glances at you, his eyes searching for an explanation, but you look completely at ease. He doesn’t say anything then, not wanting to scare you off, but his heart races. You—someone who shies away from physical contact—trust him enough to reach out like this?

Later, when you lean against him as he writes up another set of schedules, Jamil tentatively shifts to give you more room. “You alright?” he murmurs, his voice quieter than usual.

You hum in response, your cheek brushing his shoulder as you explain, “You just make me feel at ease.”

Jamil stiffens, his breath catching in his throat. No one has ever said that to him before, not with such sincerity. A faint blush dusts his cheeks as he tries to play it cool, though his mind is whirling. For the first time, he feels like someone sees beyond the role he’s forced to play.

From then on, he doesn’t mind when you’re touchy around him. If anything, he finds himself leaning into your presence, your comfort becoming his safe haven as well.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil is accustomed to people admiring him from afar, hesitant to step too close. That’s why your sudden physical closeness catches him off guard. The first time you link arms with him during a walk, his eyes widen slightly, but he quickly composes himself, tilting his head to glance at you.

“Getting bold, aren’t we?” he teases, his tone light, though his heart skips a beat.

You roll your eyes but don’t let go, and Vil notices the way your shoulders relax beside him. It’s subtle, but the realization dawns on him: you trust him enough to seek comfort in his presence. The thought fills him with a warmth he doesn’t often let himself indulge in.

Later, when you rest your head on his shoulder during a quiet moment in the Pomefiore common room, Vil sets down his script, his gaze softening. “You’ve been awfully touchy lately,” he remarks, his voice tinged with curiosity.

You meet his eyes, your expression open and unguarded. “That’s because you’re comforting,” you say simply, and Vil’s breath catches.

For a moment, he’s silent, his mind racing. He knows he can be demanding and difficult, yet here you are, finding solace in him. Gently, he rests a hand over yours, his grip firm yet tender. “Just don’t expect me to always be this lenient,” he says, though the slight tremor in his voice betrays how deeply your words have affected him.

Idia Shroud

Idia nearly has a heart attack the first time you casually lean against his shoulder during a gaming session. He goes completely still, his hair lighting up like a neon sign as his mind races. What do I do? Do I move? Is this a test? Oh, no, what if I’m sweating?!

When you don’t move away, he risks a glance at you. You’re focused on the screen, completely unbothered, and Idia feels like his circuits are going to fry.

It happens again a few days later when you sit closer than usual, your knee brushing against his. Idia freezes, trying to figure out if you’ve noticed. By the third time, when you casually rest your head on his shoulder, he can’t take it anymore.

“Uh, y-you okay?” he stammers, his voice cracking as he sneaks a glance at you.

You smile softly, your tone light. “Yeah. You’re just… comfortable.”

Idia’s brain short-circuits. Comfortable? Me? His insecurities rear their ugly heads, whispering that you’ve made a mistake, that surely someone else would be better. But when you stay by his side, leaning into him like he’s your anchor, those voices quiet.

He hesitates before awkwardly patting your hand, his touch hesitant but earnest. For the first time, he allows himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you mean it.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is delighted yet utterly confused the first time you rest your hand lightly on his arm during a quiet evening stroll. Physical affection is rare for him—he’s so often regarded with fear or reverence—but you seem unbothered by his stature, your touch grounding and sincere.

The next time, it’s even more unexpected. You loop your arm through his as you walk through the woods near Ramshackle, leaning slightly into him. Malleus’s breath hitches, his heart racing. He doesn’t want to scare you away, so he says nothing, though his tail twitches with restrained excitement.

When you rest your head against his shoulder as he tells you about his day, he finally dares to ask, “Child of man, is there a reason you’ve been so… affectionate as of late?”

You glance up at him, your eyes warm. “You’re comforting,” you say simply, and Malleus feels the ground shift beneath his feet.

For someone who has been lonely for so long, your words are a balm to his soul. He places a hand over yours, his touch gentle yet possessive. “If I bring you comfort, then I consider myself fortunate,” he says softly, though his heart feels like it’s about to burst.

From then on, Malleus treasures every touch you offer, each one a reminder that he is no longer alone.

Masterlist

[yoyomomiko]

Hi Miko, I've been reading your one piece posts and absolutely love how you write the characters! I loved your oblivious reader headcanons, but I wanted to request kind of the opposite - how would Luffy, Sanji and Zoro react to a reader that makes the first move and kisses them first? Thank you 🥰💕

pairings: monster trio x female reader

cw: not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

— (a/n): hiiii!! i'm very sorry for not posting, I've got a lot of requests and i hope I'll get to write them all ^⁠_⁠^ also, I SWEAR I don't have a favourite (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) -> m.list

— LUFFY

Luffy is so straight forward that a lot of flirting just goes right over his head. You could be batting your eyelashes, throwing hints, or playfully touching his arm, and he'd just grin at you, not having a second thought.

He's naturally touchy with his crew, so when you start getting more physically affectionate, he just kinda rolls with it. Leaning on him? He'll lean right back. Holding his hand? He'll swing it playfully.

The realization hits... Late. You make a habit of teasing him, leaning in close when you talk, poking his face when he pouts, and even calling him cute. After a lot of punches from Nami and disappointed sighs from Usopp, he tilts his head and just goes "Are you flirting with me?"

Luffy starts leaning in close, just to see if you'll back away, and he literally COPIES your every move.

"Does this make your heart race too?" In the most innocent way possible.

You think he's immune to embarrassment, until you pull a bold move and trace his jaw with your fingers. "I bet you'd taste sweet." He actually pauses, eyes wide, and a faint pink tint covering the tip of his ears.

When you finally go in for the kiss, you catch him mid laugh. His eyes widen, and probably for the first time ever, he's speechless. Luffy, the king of energy, is frozen like a statue.

His hand almost instinctively catches your waist, holding you close. You pull back, watching his expression shift from shock, to realization, to a big, goofy grin.

"Do it again!" He doesn't even hesitate before grabbing your face and closing the distance again, kissing you back. Zero hesitation.

After this, he just kisses you whenever he feels like it. Mid conversation? Smooch. Stealing food? Smooch. Looking at him funny? Smooch.

He literally tells the whole crew. No warning, no build up. Just a proud declaration while you stand there, face buried in your hands.

You belong to his crew, but now you're his in a way that makes him extra protective. He wraps his arms around you randomly, pulling you close, his stupid, big grin plastered on his face.

He starts challenging you to kiss attacks. If you surprise him, you win. If he catches you trying, he flips it on you.

Luffy doesn't get embarrassed easily, but he does get attached. Expect him to be glued to your side, smiling like you're the best treasure in the world.

There's no overthinking with Luffy, he just likes being with you, loves that your bold, and will 100% support more surprise kisses in the future.

———☆

You're sitting on the deck with Luffy, sharing a plate of snacks, when you decide you've had enough of his cluelessness. He's laughing about something, something dumb, something that shouldn't make your heart race.

So, without a second thought you lean in and close the distance, pressing a firm kiss to his lips. It's quick, but it's just enough to make Luffy's breath hitch and heartbeat increase.

Luffy blinks at you, his usual bright eyes wide in surprise. He's touching his lips like he's processing the sensation for the first time. Then, slowly, a huge grin spreads across his face.

"Whoa!" He lets out a shaky exhale, and then he grabs your hands, bouncing excitedly. "Do it again!"

"Maybe later." You laugh, shaking your head. He was getting so excited over a simple kiss, and you couldn't help but feel your heart skip a beat at the way his touch felt on your skin.

"Later?! But I wanna do it now!" He doesn't wait, just leans in and captures your lips in another quick, excited kiss. Now, you're the one blushing.

— ZORO

Flirting with Zoro is like flirting with a wall, at least at first. He doesn't react to subtle touches, teasing smirks or even playful winks. He just raises an eyebrow like, What are you doing?

"You're acting weird." You lean in, fingers trailing over his wrist as he tenses, although not pulling away. "I'm just being friendly." "That doesn't feel friendly..."

The moment he does realize you're flirting with him, he goes completely still. His grip on his swords tighten. He legit looks like he just got challenged to a duel.

"Tch, like I care." But then he starts noticing everything. The way you look at him, the way your hand when you pass him something, the way you bite your lip when you tease him.

Zoro acts all cool, but inside? His heart is beating faster, and he doesn't know why. Literally internal panic.

One day, you brush your fingers along his jaw. "I bet you'd look good, all flustered and blushing." He visibly stiffens, eyes darting away. "Shut up." Oh, so he can get flustered.

You finally go for it, grabbing his collar and closing the gap, pulling him in for a kiss. He doesn't react at first, he's too shocked to move a muscle. Then, his hands grip your waist, pulling you just a little closer.

He's not as unaffected as he pretends to be. He exhales slowly, his breathing controlled. But you can feel the slight shake in it, the way his hands tremble slightly and the way his muscles tense.

Zoro pretends it's no big deal, but later, he tilts your chin up and kisses you again. Slower, deeper, like he's trying to memorize the feeling of your lips on his.

He's not big on PDA, but his protective streak triples. Arm around your waist? Always. Pulling you close when someone stares too long? Every time.

He doesn't say sweet things, but his actions scream it.

He still gets caught off guard when you tease him. A kiss on the cheek, and his ears turn red. Whispering something flirty, and his jaw tightens.

Zoro likes a challenge, and now that he's aware of you, he starts fighting back. He corners you and smirks if you get flustered.

He will DIE before admitting how much he likes it.

———☆

Zoro is training, sweat glistening on his skin, swords balanced in a way that makes him look damn near untouchable. You've been teasing him all day, dropping little hints, getting close... But he's been brushing you off, pretending it has no effect on him. Until now.

You walk up to him casually, hiding your smug smirk, standing just close enough for him to feel your presence. "Bet I could throw you off balance."

"Tch, you wish." He fights the urge to roll his eyes, the way his words came out was almost as if he was daring you to try.

Your smirk widens as you step closer to him. Before he could react, you grip his collar, tug him down, lips colliding into each other as you press a confident kiss on his lips.

He freezes. His whole body tenses like he's been struck by lightning. When you pull away, his breath is heavier, and there's a slight pink tint decorating his cheeks.

He glares at you, the grip on his swords tightening. "That was dirty..." He mutters, still trying to calm himself down.

You tilt your head to the side, still smirking. "Did it work?" You taunt him, trying to hold back your laugh, watching his flustered expression carefully.

Zoro exhales slowly, before grabbing your wrist, yanking you back in for another kiss. His lips crashed against yours, and you could feel his smirk pressing against your mouth. This one's deeper, hungrier. When he finally pulls back, a smirk forms on his lips.

"Yeah. It worked."

— SANJI

Sanji flirts with everyone, but when you do it back? He's done for. He's absolutely weak from the start. He nearly drops his cigarette every time you touch him.

"What's wrong, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?" And he instantly covers his mouth, trying to hide his nosebleed and the way his face turns 50 different shades of red. He short circuits instantly.

He flirts dramatically, and you flirt right back, leaning in close, tracing his jaw, calling him pet names. His whole face BURNS.

You catch him off guard with a soft touch to his cheek, and his whole face erupts in pink. "M-Mademoiselle!"

When you finally kiss him first, his soul leaves his body. His cigarette falls, his legs turn weak, and he grips onto you for dear life.

The moment your lips touch his, Sanji's entire body locks up. His heart is hammering, and his mind is screaming in ten different languages. His brain kinda goes offline for a few seconds, but he'll snap out of it eventually!!

He covers his face with both hands, trying to suppress the absolutely ridiculous grin forming. "Mon Dieu! You're too much for me..." And his legs wobble like he might pass out.

His hands remain on your waist, but he doesn't pull you in, not yet. He wants to play it cool, but his flushed face and trembling hands give it away.

For the next hour, he is completely useless in the kitchen. He keeps chopping ingredients wrong, spacing out and giggling like an absolute fool. When someone asks what's wrong, his only reply is "I've been blessed by an angel today."

After the kiss, he becomes extra aware of your presence. A simple brush of your fingers sends a shiver down his spine. If you just lean against him, he has to take deep breaths.

The next time you tease him, he gets his revenge, tilting your chin up with his fingers and giving you the slowest, most knee weakening kiss of your life. "Two can play this game, mon amour."

Before, he was a hopeless romantic. Now? He's a hopelessly attached romantic. "Oh, you like me?" You tease, and you see the way his lips curl into a smirk. "Like? Darling, I adore you."

He was already treating you like royalty, but now it's way worse. Pulling out your chair, offering you the best cuts off food, whispering sweet nothings into your ear 24/7. It's endless.

You kiss him unexpectedly? He still gets heart eyes, but now he pulls you right back for another. "Don't start something you're not ready to finish, darling."

Completely, utterly, shamelessly yours. Sanji doesn't even try to hide it, he's absolutely whipped. He lets everyone know, the whole crew has to deal with it.

———☆

Sanji is flirting with you as usual, leaning close and murmuring sweet things. "Ah, ma chérie, if you keep looking at me like that, I might fall apart."

You rolled your eyes, a mischievous smirk forming on your lips. You grabbed his tie, fingers twisting in the fabric, yanking him down with a sudden tug. He stumbled slightly, cut off guard, but there was no time to react. Your lips crashed against his, the space between you vanishing as you pressed your body flush against his, tilting your head and deepening the kiss. His breath hitched as his hands instinctively found your waist, pulling you even closer.

Your lips parted just enough to tease, to taste. Your fingers slid up from his tie to tangle in his hair, nails grazing his scalp as you pulled him in, not letting go.

You finally parted from him, just barely, lips still hovering close and over each other. He's completely frozen. Mouth slightly open, cigarette hanging dangerously close to falling, his eyes wide in surprise, face completely red.

His whole body shakes, and he nearly collapses on the floor. "I can die happy!" He shouts out dramatically, both hands pressed firmly on his chest as he struggles to breathe.

Later, when he finally recovers, he pulls you aside, trapping you against the wall, kissing you so deep it leaves you breathless.

"Not so easy when I'm the one taking control, hm, mon amour?"

★yoyomiko ★miko

[butyoudidthis4what]

No Man's Land Part 5

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

You can find Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, and Part 4 here!

42k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: No super specific wedding details are given; some anxiety; very fluffy; Robby and Jake make up; Jack is a consent king; use of eyedrops; unprotected PIV sex (bc implied with relationship); oral sex (both m and f receiving); fingering; SoftDom!Jack; manhandling; light condescension; bondage; use of your underwear as a gag; knife appears in the bedroom but is not used on anyone; doggy; alcohol; reader: loves champagne, sits on Jack’s lap, takes Jack’s last name, gets drunk, wears a dress; author: did not proofread, faded to black on a lot of sex, did not pick a wedding venue because I’m too picky; overwhelmingly NOT proofread; no use of y/n or related

Summary: You and Jack get married.

AN: And so we've reached the end. The wedding fought me every step of the way, so hopefully that is not reflected in the quality of it, lol. I'm sure part of it was some subconscious block because I don't want them to end. Honestly, it’s quite bittersweet and a little emotional posting this final part as silly as that makes me feel. I've just spent a lot of time in their heads. While Part 1 was not the first Jack fic I posted, it was the first one I worked on and the idea that got me writing again after a four years. Thank you all so so much for reading and supporting me along the way! ♥️ I would be nothing without you all, so truly, thank you for reading the copious amount of words this universe became. I hope it lives up and feels like the ending they deserve. ♥️

Jack’s forehead furrows as his eyebrows raise at your question. “Flew to Vegas tomorrow and elope?” He wants to make sure he heard you correctly. 

“Yeah.” You nod vigorously, eyes wide and eyebrows drawn together. You start chewing on your bottom lip and playing with your fingers in your lap. Jack knows you’re genuinely distressed right now and he hates it, hates that he caused it, even inadvertently. He sits up further, leans forward so that he’s closer to you where you sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Well, I… I think,” Jack pauses, just needs another second. “I think you’ll regret it, not having the wedding. And don’t-” Jack reaches out and grabs your wrist gently so that you can’t get off the bed like you were moving to, he can already hear your brain attacking you. He finds your gaze again before he keeps talking. “Don’t think that means I don’t want to get married to you. I do. And if we decide we want to elope to Vegas or anywhere else, then I’m okay with that. As long as you end up my wife, okay? I’m not saying no, Doll.” He lets go of your wrist and grabs your hand, laces it with his. “I’m saying that I think we should sleep on it. I think you want the wedding we’ve planned so far and that you’re beyond exhausted and that your anxiety is driving your brain right now, yeah?” 

You just look at him, seem a little like you’re lost to your thoughts, not in them, to them. “I… yeah,” you whisper. 

Jack knows he needs to get you back in bed with him, get you close and help you find your way back and then to sleep. “Come here?” He pats your side of the bed next to him and gives you a little smile. “Please.” You release his hand and crawl over him, snuggle up under the covers into his side and bury your head in his neck. His arms wrap tightly around you and he kisses your temple. “Good girl,” he murmurs, “thank you.” 

You can’t help the way ‘good girl’ makes you shiver. Maybe that’s what you need, you think to yourself, to have Jack fuck you in a hard reset after the week you had. Being in his arms is more than enough though, has you calming and coming back to a state of rationality pretty quick. 

“We’ll sleep on it, okay? I promise we can talk about it in the morning and that I’m not saying no.” Jack clicks his tongue. “Could you pick your dress up early and bring it with us to wear in Vegas?” That makes you snort a laugh into the side of his neck. Jack smiles to himself, pleased he was able to get a laugh out of you. He rocks you a little playfully. “What? I’m dying to see you in your wedding dress.”

“I probably could, yeah.” You slide your hand down Jack’s bare chest a little, trace shapes with your finger, write little messages of love. “But no. We don’t need to sleep on it. I don’t even know what that was. I want what we’ve planned so far.”

Jack rubs your back with one hand. “I’ll check in with you on it tomorrow, okay? Just to be sure. And I think maybe a little panic and a lot of exhaustion. But you also don’t need to know what it was, yeah? It’s okay to not know.” 

You nod. “I just like knowing. Makes me feel like I have some control, which I know is a total fucking illusion.” You sigh into him, nuzzle against his neck. You like the way his stubble feels, it’s oddly grounding for you. “I hate this. Being like this.” 

Jack bites back the urge to say you’re not being like anything because he knows what you mean. Knows you mean you hate feeling so emotionally labile and panicking and feeling out of control. “I know, Doll.” He doesn’t need to say more. It’s not the time. It’s not why you said it. You just need to feel heard and seen. Jack uses his hand on the back of your neck to pull you away from him a little so that he can see you. “Can I do anything?”

You look at him and then to the side as you think. Think back on the flash of a thought you had. Maybe you should ask him to, ask him to fuck you into a hard reset. He does it so well. Knows just how to fuck until you’re sobbing and releasing every pent up emotion in you, and keeps going, fucking you thoughtless and incoherent and unable to feel or think about anything other than him. Knows how to break your mind in just the right way to get all of your emotional turmoil out. Knows how to take his time putting you back together with his touch and his words and his love so that you feel like the normal version of yourself when you wake up the next day, not however you had been feeling. 

He always takes such good care of you after even if the memories of it are so heavily fogged they almost don’t truly exist. He holds you while you keep sobbing, lays on you often, his body weight helping with your shaking, cleans you up, makes sure you get to the bathroom and have some water and sometimes a snack before you fall asleep, whispers reassurances and little expressions of his love while he rocks you until you fall asleep, holds you the entire night as you sleep curled up on him. 

Yeah. You think that just might do the trick, especially with as exhausted as you are and how hard he’ll make you sleep. 

Your eyes find Jack’s again, his eyebrows slightly raised. He knows you thought of something with how long you were looking away. Your expression, the look in your eye and the specific way you look at him makes him think he knows what you need. “Jack,” you whisper. Your voice confirms it. 

Still though. He wants to be explicitly sure so that he doesn’t start something you weren’t asking for that will actually hurt you or make you worse. “Fuck you all the way gone?”

“Yeah.” You nod, eyes already blown wide. “Please.” 

Jack nods, rolls the both of you so that you’re on your back with him hovering over you. “You’re sleeping until you wake up tomorrow. I’m not setting an alarm and I’m not waking you up when I wake up. And if you wake up at a time I deem to be too early you’re going back to sleep, even if I have to put you back to sleep myself.” He drops his hips against you then and grinds against you as if you didn’t already know what he meant. “Deal?”

“Deal,” you breathe.

Six weeks. Only six weeks left until the wedding. It feels so short and so long at the same time. Pretty much everything is planned, everything you could possibly do up to this point is done. It’s just a waiting game for the next couple of weeks. 

You’d worked late tonight so you went to the hospital instead of home, planning on surprising Jack and suggesting you grab dinner somewhere if he was up to it after his shift. If not, maybe you could grab takeout on the way home. 

When you found Jack he was finishing some charting at the desk and talking to Robby. Somewhere along the lines the conversation between the three of you turned to your bachelor and bachelorette parties.  

“No strippers.” Jack glances up at Robby from the computer. 

“Okay.” Robby nods. 

Jack looks up at him again. “No strippers.” His eyes return to the computer.

“No strippers.” Robby nods again. He doesn’t even sound facetious. Something about the interaction so far is quite entertaining to you. 

“Hey,” Jack looks up at him again, “I’m serious. No strippers. She won’t even be the mad one. I will be. No strippers.” 

“Peter, he agreed the last two times.” Jack looks over at you and blinks as you nod. You know you should stop there but you can’t help yourself. You shrug, try and look nonchalant. “He’s seen my boobs, he knows you don’t need to be looking at any stripper’s tits.” 

Jack’s head whips back over to Robby, eyes glaring just a little at his best friend. 

“Woah, woah, woah! Okay, I never said that.” Robby holds up his hands. “She did. I didn’t even think about that. I was simply respecting the boundary you set when you said no strippers for your bachelor party.” Robby brings his hands back down and shrugs. “But again, they’re very nice b-”

“I,” Jack interrupts Robby loudly to get him to stop talking before returning to a normal voice, glaring daggers at him now, “will cancel the entire party and find someone else to officiate our wedding if you finish that fucking sentence Michael.”

You struggled to hide your laughter the second Robby started to say you have nice boobs again but Jack’s reaction pulls an audible laugh from you. Both Robby and Jack turn to look at you. “I just,” you shrug, “you guys are funny.” It didn’t escape your notice when Myrna moved in closer. You and her shared a conspiratorial look, something you seem to often do when you’re together.

“You know,” Myrna interjects. All three sets of eyes find her in her chair a little behind Jack and Robby. “I could show Fruitcake my tits. Then they’d be the last pair he saw.”

“Thank you, Myrna, that would be perfect.” Jack smiles at her genuinely before looking to Robby with an overly saccharine smile. 

“Absolutely not. Put,” Robby emphasizes the word and shuts his eyes “your shirt down Myrna.” She’d started to pull it up. He opens his eyes and looks at Jack. “The officiant threat? It works both ways.”

Robby turns and starts to walk away and Jack snorts making Robby stop and turn back around. “Oh please, you love us and her white chocolate chip macadamia nut cookies far too much to even dream of it, Michael.”

“Don’t worry Fruitcake, you can have some of this cookie.” Myrna tells Robby with a suggestive eyebrow raise and smirk before starting to wheel herself away.

Jack bites back his laughter and holds his hands up in truce at that one. He goes to say something but Robby stops him. 

“Just don’t.” Robby holds his hand up at Jack. “Just don’t say anything and we’re all going to leave and you’re going to buy me several drinks.” 

Jack looks over at you, eyebrows raised, smirking. “I suppose I did kind of start it, didn’t I?” You admit with a nod. “A few drinks seems fair.” 

The wedding is in five weeks, just over a month. It’s all you can think about as Jack drives you to Dana’s house. It’s 2 p.m. on a Saturday. You’ve been invited over for a little party for Dana to show off the kitchen remodel they just finished on the house. 

“Did she say if lots of people are coming?” you ask Jack. 

Jack shrugs. “She didn’t, no. Just said to show up with you.” You smile at that. Sounds like Dana. 

“Hey, are you doing the whole something old something new thing?” Jack asks.  “I heard a patient discussing it yesterday and it made me wonder.”

“Oh, I hadn’t really thought about it I guess.” You think on it for a few seconds and then shrug. “I mean I guess I’d like to but no, probably not. Where would I get that stuff from, you know? I don’t want to ask anything else of anyone, everyone has already done so much for us.”

Jack hums in acknowledgment. “People would if you asked. Without hesitation or feeling burdened.”

“I know, but still. It’s really not a huge deal.” You look over at Jack and squeeze his hand where it rests on your thigh. “It’s not like we’re doing all of the wedding traditions.”

“No we most certainly are not.” He takes his eyes off the road for a second to glance at you with a bit of a lopsided grin. Jack turns down the street and finds a place to park. “Time to go see how many people showed.” He gets out of the car and walks around to open your door for you, gives you a kiss as you get out. 

The two of you walk hand in hand up to Dana’s door and knock. “Hi!” Dana throws the door open. “So glad you could make it!” You’re both ushered in as you exchange hellos and hugs. Jack and Dana share a look as you set your purse down on the credenza with your back to them. 

“Well! Lead the way! I’m excited to see it, especially since you wouldn’t tell me which granite you settled on.” You throw her a look. 

She laughs, starts walking you through the hallway towards the kitchen. But the three of you stop once you hit the living room. 

The living room is decorated in bridal shower decor, a banner reading ‘bride to be’ hanging from the mantel and sitting and standing and mingling amongst it all are a few of your coworkers who you’re close to, your friend, and many of the Pitt crew, Victoria, Samira, Cassie, Mel, Heather, Kim, Parker and Princess. A chorus of soft ‘surprise!’ rings out as everyone looks at you and tips their cups to you. You smile and give a little wave, still shocked and struggling a bit to process. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble. “Dana?” You look over at her questioningly. “You didn’t… this is… wow.” A surprise bridal shower for you. A genuine, you had no fucking clue you weren’t coming here for a get together to show off the remodeled kitchen, surprise. 

“Surprise!” Dana laughs. 

“Yeah,” you laugh out incredulously. You turn to Jack. “Did you know?” You’re not sure why you’re asking. You can tell from the lack of surprise on his face that he did. 

“I did, but only for like a week,” Jack explains. You give him a lingering look of bewilderment mixed with incredulity before turning back to Dana. 

“Dana, this is so much.” You shake your head at her a little. “This must have been so much work, I… thank you, I just, I don’t know, I don’t know what to say.” You laugh a little. 

Jack slips away to give you and Dana a moment, goes back to the front door to wait for you to come say goodbye. He smiles to himself. He’s glad Dana ended up planning one for you. She’d asked him off-hand months ago if you were planning one and he’d told her no, you weren’t, but he thought your friend might try to. He didn’t hear anything else about it until last week when she revealed the kitchen party was really a bridal shower for you.

“You don’t have to say anything. All you have to do is come have a good time with us.” Dana smirks at you. “We have so much champagne to get through.” That makes you smile. You love champagne. “And it’s real champagne, not sparkling wine.” She winks at you. 

“Oh I’m sure it’s amazing, I just, I don’t know I feel bad because you guys already threw us such an amazing engagement party, and now this and you really didn’t have to. I love it and appreciate it so much, I just hope you didn’t feel like you had to since I wasn’t planning one.” Your brows and forehead are furrowed in concern. 

The engagement party wasn’t a surprise, you and Jack knew about it from the beginning. You just weren’t involved in the planning, were given a date and time and eventually a place to show up to. It had been beautiful, incredibly you and Jack, and so obvious how well those who planned it knew you as individuals and a couple. You couldn’t have planned a better one for yourselves. Nor would you have, but you were both told that everyone wanted to celebrate the two of you and if nothing else it was a reason for a party. It had been perfect. And you know this bridal shower will be too. You’re still just floored.

“I didn’t at all.” Dana smiles at you, gives you another hug. “And I wasn’t involved in the planning of the engagement party, that was all Robby and Heather and Mel, so it’s not like I’m pulling double duty. Plus I had a lot of help.” She glances over at your friend who tips her drink at you again with a smirk. Dana releases you but keeps her hands on your shoulders and squeezes. “Come on, go say goodbye to your man and then you can see the granite while you get some food and a drink.” 

“Thank you, Dana.” You manage to catch one of her hands when she takes them off your shoulders. “I mean it,” you squeeze her hand, “it really means so much to me and to Jack and I know I can be bad at expressing it. So thank you.” 

Dana smiles at you warmly in that way she does, eyes knowing and head bowing just a little to make it knowing. “You’re welcome.”

“Alright, let me say goodbye to Jack!” You turn from Dana and walk back into the hallway where Jack’s standing waiting for you, pleased smile on his face. “I can’t believe you knew.” You shake your head at him. 

“Keeping that secret was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done and I only knew for a week. I wanted to tell you so badly.” He laughs a little, wraps an arm around your waist to pull you close and you rest your hands on his chest. “But you deserve this. The surprise. The shower. I know you think you don’t and I know me saying you do isn’t going to convince you, but you do.” He leans in and gives you a quick kiss. “Enjoy yourself, yeah?”

You nod. “I always do with everyone here.” 

Jack laughs a little. “Good. I expect to hear all about it later.” 

“I’ll do my best to take notes for you.” You give him a little smirk for a second and then let your face even back out. “You picking me up?”

“Course,” he nods, “just call me when you’re ready Doll.”

“Okay.” The two of you share one last kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” You both walk over to the door and Jack steps out. “Don’t have too much fun without me.” 

A month. Only a month until the wedding. It’s swirling in Jack’s mind as he sits on the couch reading with the quiet buzz of the police scanner in the background when his phone goes off. He half expects it to be a message asking him to come get you from whatever bar or club it is you ended up at. 

Y - u come dwn

Y - ?

Y - pls

An amused smile makes its way onto Jack’s face. He’s seen you pretty tipsy before and it looks like he will be again. He thinks it’s cute the way you asked him to come down, how you knew he’d be up and waiting for you even though it’s 2:30 a.m. 

J - I’ll be waiting. 

Jack is only waiting outside for a few minutes before an SUV driven by Dana’s husband rolls up. He and Jack exchange knowing smiles and shake their heads. Jack walks over to the back door and can hear all the giggles before he even opens it. 

“Peter!” You beam at him, reaching for him with both hands as you sit on the seat of the car with your legs hanging out for a minute. “Hi! I missed you so much!” you giggle. Jack takes in your quite dilated pupils and the way you slur your words a bit and extremely giggly affect.

“Oh, you’re drunk drunk,” Jack laughs to himself as he takes your hands and helps you get out of the car, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist to help support and stabilize you as he gets you on the sidewalk.

The driver’s window rolls down. “They’re all more or less three sheets to the wind. The rest are sleeping in our guest room because I don’t trust them alone at home and don’t think they have partners. I’m glad one of them,” Dana’s husband points at you and smirks, “had the sense to call me and not an uber.”

Jack glances at you. “Yeah, I am too.”

“I was gonna call you but D has a bigger car an’ we could all fit,” you giggle, words slurring together as you lean further into Jack. Someone rolls the window down and Dana, your friend, Heather, and Samira’s heads become visible to varying extents.

Jack looks at them and then back at you and then back to Dana’s husband. “Good luck and godspeed.” Jack nods at him before turning his attention back to you. “Okay, Doll, let’s get you to bed.”

You take in a gasping breath and stand up a little straighter at his words, hands grabbing at the chest of Jack’s shirt. “Fan-fucking-tastic idea, Dr. Abbot. Do y’know how hot you are? Do I tell you enough? Look at him.” You look over at the window. “Wait no don’t he’s mine.” A second later you gasp. “Oh my god and he’s like your boss. Mostly. Kinda.” That makes you all burst into giggles again.

“Okay,” Jack drawls, he already knows his version of bed and yours are two very different things, “say goodnight.” 

“Goodnight! I love you all! Thank you! Debrief tomorrow!” You let go of Jack’s shirt with both hands to blow them all kisses and Jack’s quick to hold you even tighter as you sway now that you’re not holding onto him. You turn with Jack and start walking in, his arm never leaving your waist and hold on you never loosening. 

Getting you inside and to the bedroom is easier than Jack expected. You’re not super unsteady on your feet when he’s helping support you and guiding you. He’s never seen you this drunk, not that you’re blackout drunk by any means, he’s just never seen you like this. He finds it quite adorable, even if it’s a little difficult to keep your attention. 

Once you’re in your room Jack has you stand by the edge of the bed, planning on starting to take your clothes off so he can get you off to sleep. “You know you haven’t even kissed me?” You pout at him. 

Jack gives an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to get you inside safely.” He tilts your chin up and leans down and into you. “Come here,” he murmurs. His kisses are short but filled with so much reverence you could drown in it.

“Jack,” you sigh happily, get your lips on his neck and start to kiss and suck as your hands begin to wander. “Please.”

Jack laughs a little to try and cover the groan he can’t help but make when you manage to nibble at his neck. He pulls back up and looks at you. “Please what, Doll?”

“Please fuck me into next week.” 

“Mm,” Jack gives you a gentle smile and shakes his head, “you, my love, are far too drunk to consent to sex right now, as much as I would love to fuck you into next week.” 

“Jackie!” you whine, pout harder than he’s ever seen. It’s so adorable it’s a bit comical and he stifles a laugh. Maybe if he sees you naked, your drunk brain thinks, maybe then. 

You start taking off your clothes and the only reason he allows it is because he needs to get them off of you. Once you’re completely undressed you bite your lip when he starts to take his shirt off, thrilled your plan worked and ready to surge forward and suck hickies into his chest once he gets his pajama pants off. That’s why you’re so confused when Jack holds his shirt out for you. You only question it for a second though, drunk and horny brain thinking he just wants to fuck you while you’re wearing his shirt. 

You giggle at him. “So dirty, want me in your shirt. Want me to ride you too?” Your slurring is adorably intermittent. 

Jack shakes his head at you with an amused smirk. “I’d like you to come into the bathroom with me so I can take your makeup off.”

“Jack!” It’s a drawn out whine that almost makes his name two syllables this time. “We’re engaged.” You bring your left hand up towards his face and he has to grab your wrist gently to stop you from accidentally shoving your hand in his face. “See? That’s blanket consent.” You wink at him, or at least attempt to.

Jack laughs through his nose, smiling and shaking his head at you. “That’s not how that works, Doll.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and lean back on your elbows, open your legs for him a bit. “I think yes it is.” 

“I know no it’s not.” Jack raises his brows at you and gives you a little look with a small smile.

“Well I’m sayin’ yes,” you slur defiantly.  

“Doll, you are too drunk to say yes and have it mean yes. So I’m saying no, okay? First thing in the morning.” Jack gives you a little smiled grimace, trying to keep it light and tease you a little about the hangover he’s sure you’ll have. “If you’re feeling up to it.” 

But the humor doesn’t land and exactly what he was worried about happening happens. 

“You don’t want me?” It’s suddenly far more serious, your voice dripping with some real hurt, real insecurity. 

“I always want you.” Jack crouches down and holds your face in his hands, brushes his thumbs over your cheeks. “Hey,” he calls softly when you won’t meet his eyes. “Look at me.” You don’t. “Please? It’s important.” It takes a second but eventually you do as he asked and he gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile and gentle squeeze of your face. “I always want you. And if you weren’t drunk, absolutely, I’d already be inside you. Remember, I said you’re too drunk to consent as much as I would love to fuck you into next week?” You blink at him, vaguely recalling him making such a statement but eyeing him suspiciously. “I promise you I am very hard right now. So please believe me that this has nothing to do with whether I want you and am attracted to you because yes and yes, I promise you Doll. I always want you. Your trust in me to protect you and take care of you and respect you is something I want too. My wants are at odds right now.” Jack goes to say more but stops, shakes his head a little, smiles at you. “And I know you’re not really taking any of this in so I’m going to stop. But know that I always want you. Always.”

You’re silent for a moment and Jack is concerned you don’t believe him and trying to think of a different approach. “Okay, but I always want you.” You smirk at him, pulled from your sadness and back to giggly and horny and happy drunk. You grab his hands from your face and try to get them to grab your boobs but Jack won’t let you, pulling his hands away. “So it’s the same. So yes, we can. Yes, it means yes.” 

“That was a poor choice of words.” Jack sighs to himself and brings his chin to his chest for a second. “It’s not quite the same or what I meant.” He shakes his head at you. “As soon as you’re ready to and want to once you’re sober, okay?” You whine and go to say something, probably argue more. “I got your favorite Ben and Jerry’s today. You want to-”

You gasp and stand up, Jack following you up and his arms quickly encircling you to keep you from falling over. “Did you really?” 

Jack nods as he guides you back down so you’re sitting on the bed again. “I really did. How about you have some of that and some pedialyte and ibuprofen while I get your makeup off? And then we’ll sleep, yeah?”

“Okay. But only because you got Ben and Jerry’s.” You point at him in the overdramatic way only a drunk person can. 

“Good.” Jack smiles, leans down to kiss your forehead before starting to go to the kitchen. “Stay sitting here, okay? Please.” 

You hum your agreement. “At least one of us will be getting BJs tonight,” you mutter as he walks away. But Jack hears it and starts laughing. 

He turns back to you at the door, nothing but love and adoration in his eyes as he looks at you. “I love you so much, you know that?” You nod at him and let yourself fall back onto the bed.

Two weeks later you’re standing at the desk in the Pitt chatting with Jack. It’s a common sight anymore. You’re waiting for Dana. She’s sneaking out early to go to your last dress fitting with you. The wedding is only two weeks away and while there’s of course last minute wedding stress, truly you’re more excited than anything, ready for it to be here and be Jack’s wife, take his last name. And Jack is just as excited, just as antsy for it to be here. 

“I can’t even see the shoes?” Jack gives you a little pout. It’s adorable and it honestly makes you consider showing him because he’s doing it here at work, in front of people. 

“You can’t even see the shoes,” you confirm, give his pushed out bottom lip a quick kiss. 

“You’re so mean to me having them right here in front of me in a bag and not letting me see!” He gestures at the bag, keeps giving you those puppy dog eyes that almost always work on you. Almost. 

You step a little closer to him and drop your voice so only he can hear. “I’ll make it up to you tonight, okay Dr. Abbot?” You smirk when his jaw clenches and rolls. 

He leans in even closer, hunches a bit to bring your faces closer together. “By giving me a fashion show of your wedding dress and shoes?” He raises his eyebrows and gives you an encouraging smile and nod. He knows you’re most likely taking the dress home tonight. 

“Peter!” You smack at his chest playfully. 

“I had to try!” Jack straightens back up to his full height.

“Mhm,” you hum at him. “It’s too bad, you would have really liked my little make it up to you treat.” Another clench and roll of his jaw.

“Oh? And what would-”

“Oh, hey! You’re here, great.” Robby interrupts Jack who turns to stare daggers at him for interrupting his chance to find out what you had planned. “I uh, I need to talk to you both. Can we talk? Um, over here?”

Robby starts walking towards the family room and you and Jack exchange confused and slightly concerned looks before following him. Robby seems nervous, jumpy almost. Jack knows he hasn’t been like this all day, only just now. Robby holds open the door for you both, shuts it and sits across from you. 

He clears his throat and looks at you. “Jack already told you about Jake and I.” It’s a statement that picks up just slightly at the end as he seeks confirmation. 

“Yes and I’m so happy for you Robby, for both of you. I’d love to meet him when you’re ready, we could have you guys over or something.” You smile at him, warm and enthusiastic and genuine.

Jack had told you about Robby and Jake. Once he’d left your house the morning after Leah’s sister came in Robby had called Jake and Jake answered. And Jake agreed to meet up with Robby at Robby’s place to watch a game and talk some maybe. Apparently it had all come out then. Jack had been right. Robby had been trying to give Jake space and let Jake come back to him, but Jake wasn’t sure how to find his way back to Robby, how to ask Robby to forgive him or how to reach out and ask to hang out, not after everything he’d said that day. And since then over the last month things had been getting back closer to how they were before Pitt Fest between Robby and Jake, different, yes, for multiple reasons, but similar in the amount of talking and seeing each other. 

“Yeah, that would be great, I think he’d enjoy that. He’s asked about you Jack.” Robby looks over at him. “But, um, on that note, kind of, I was won-”

“He should come to the wedding!” You blurt it out and cut Robby off without even realizing it because you just had to say the thought as soon as it came into your head. “Oh my god.” You cover your hand with your mouth and Jack has to laugh. You remove your hand after a second. “I’m so sorry, I just had the thought and, and it doesn’t matter. Please, go on.” 

Robby’s stuck blinking at you for a moment. Jack looks at Robby and then you and then back to Robby and snorts a laugh. 

“He was about to ask if Jake could come to the wedding.”

You look at Jack and back to Robby. “Really?”

Robby nods. “Yeah. But it’s okay if he can’t, like if you don’t have the table space or dinner or any of that I know it’s like two weeks away and you probably can’t change numbers.”

“Of course he can come, we want him to come.” Jack gives Robby a bit of a you had to ask? look. 

“We booked extra spaces and food just in case. And he’s basically your son, he’s not just invited, we want him there! I’m so sorry I didn’t think about it and ask earlier-” 

“Don’t apologize,” Robby cuts you off with a bit of a laugh. “It means a lot that you guys want him there. I appreciate it.” He stands up. “That’s all I had, I just didn’t want you to feel awkward if you had to say no in the middle of the ED because of space or whatever.”

The second you step out someone is calling for Robby. “I’m being paged.” Robby raises his eyebrows and walks backwards for a second before turning around to walk off to where he’s needed. 

“Hey! There you are!” Dana calls, starts walking over to you. It’s strange seeing her in anything other than scrubs. “You ready?”

“Yeah!” You turn back to Jack and lean up for a kiss and quick hug. “I’ll see you soon Peter, I love you.”

“I love you too.” Jack returns your hug and kiss, but catches your wrist as you start to walk away. You turn and look back at him with a smile and raised brows. Jack looks serious with just a touch of what seems almost like desperation. “What was it? The make it up treat for me when I get home?”

Your smile shifts into a smirk as you pull your hand from him and walk backwards slowly. “That’s for me to know and you to maybe find out, lover boy.”

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

You and Jack emerge from the metro just across from the Louvre. Grabbing Jack’s hand you lead the two of you over towards a side entrance and enter near the restaurant patio and walk out into the plaza with the inverted pyramid. After you’ve walked closer you release Jack’s hand so that you can take a couple of photos with your phone.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You walk ahead of Jack a bit without realizing it.

“Stunning,” Jack murmurs to himself. But Jack isn’t looking around at the pyramid and the buildings. Jack is focused solely on you. He stays behind you but moves to the side a little bit and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet box he’d gotten just for this, takes your engagement ring out of it. He actually had forced himself to wear your ring on a chain around his neck this morning, just for this and had taken it off the chain while waiting for you to use the bathroom earlier in the day.

He keeps himself behind you by a few steps and pulls his pant leg up a bit as he slides down on one knee. Again. 

“What do you think? I know it probably doesn’t live up to expectations with how I went on about it, I just love it so much for some reason.” You smile to yourself and turn to where you think Jack is going to be standing, wanting to see his expression as he takes it in. But he’s not there and so your brows furrow as you start to turn to look for him. 

Jack smiles in anticipation. He knows that it’s a little ridiculous maybe, probably, seeing as how you’re already engaged, but still. As much as his other proposal felt right and was right, this still feels kind of right too. You turn completely and your eyes find him already down on one knee this time.

“Shut the fuck up.” You clamp a hand over your mouth. You know he’s already proposed but even so, that’s the first thing you say? You think to yourself. Really? 

Jack laughs, closing his eyes and leaning forward on his knee a little bit. “Oh my god,” he breathes through a small laugh, smiling as wide as he ever has and shaking his head as he straightens back up and looks up at you. “I love you so goddamn much. That was so perfectly you.”

You pull your hand from your mouth and open it like you’re going to say something and then close it, put your hand back over it. 

Jack has to laugh a little at that too. He decides to keep it short and sweet this time. “You are far and away the greatest thing to ever happen to me. I hope you know that.” He’s still smiling but becomes a little more serious, eyes sparkling with mirth and tears. “I want to do every day and every night with you. I love you. So what do you say, Doll? Will you marry me?”

You move your hand from your mouth as a few tears slip down your face. You’re beaming at Jack as you start to nod. “Yes” you giggle, “yes, yes, yes! I’ll marry you, Jack Abbot.” 

After you spend the day at the Louvre Jack explains why he had you bring a nice cocktail dress with you. He’d made a reservation at a quite upscale Parisian restaurant to celebrate the second proposal. As thrilled as you are to have gone back to the hotel and gotten all dressed up and to be here and as special and as spoiled as you feel, half of you is ready to throw back your champagne and drag Jack back to the hotel. He’s in a pair of slim fit black dress pants, a simple collared button up shirt in white and a black blazer that matches his pants. 

You order a very nice bottle of champagne to share during dinner. Once your glasses are poured, you hold yours up and tip it towards Jack a little. “To the Abbots.” 

Jack swallows hard but mirrors you, lifting his glass and tipping it towards you a little before you carefully clink your glasses together. “To the Abbots.” 

The drink he takes is fairly quick because he wants to watch you and the way your lips wrap around the rim of the flute and how the flicker of the candle on your table with the low lighting of the restaurant make your eyes look almost moltent. He’s particularly wired for you tonight, can’t really put his finger on why. 

Maybe it’s just the whole thing, being in Paris together, having just proposed again, you in that dress. Maybe the second proposal has just really shoved it right back in his face that you’re going to be his wife. His wife. 

Whatever the reason is all Jack knows is he’s been half hard since you left the hotel, and you are, unknowingly in fairness to you, winding him up more and more with every little thing you do. He doesn’t want to rush this, at all, and he doesn’t, but that tension and need for you just continues to build. 

He doesn’t realize it but it’s the same for you. Jack looks so fucking hot dressed like this. He always does but there’s something about this and how rare it is for you to see him like this and the fact that you’re seeing him like this in Paris that’s driving you up a wall. 

You get through the bottle of champagne while eating your appetizer and mains. You both decide on a dessert to share and a drink, Jack picking a fancy scotch you’re praying you’ll be able to taste on him later. 

As your waitress is walking away Jack messes with his tie, unknotting it and shoving it in his pocket before undoing the first two buttons of his shirt. In part because he has a plan and in part because he does in fact feel smothered and too hot, but not from the temperature of the room. “It’s hot in here, I was dying with that thing, sorry Doll.” 

Your eyes narrow and you cock your head at him but don’t say anything. You know he runs hotter than you but, at least to you, the restaurant isn’t particularly hot and you’re usually the one who’s more temperature sensitive. And something about what Jack just did feels familiar. But then maybe you’re just lightheaded and dizzy by how he somehow looks even hotter with his collar open like that. If he takes his blazer off and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows you’ll be on your knees between his legs with everyone watching.

“Hey?” Jack’s voice cuts through your thoughts and brings you back. “You good?” He’s almost a little too nonchalant with the question. 

You look at him for a moment before you smile and nod at him. “More than, Peter. Looking forward to dessert.”

Jack hums low, eyes greedy as they roam over your face, down your neck to your cleavage and then back up so he’s looking you in the eyes again. He fills out well past half hard, thankful he’s sitting and that the table provides cover. “Me too, Doll, me too.” 

Before you can say anything else your drinks are brought over and by the time the waitress walks away again Jack is asking you a question about Versailles tomorrow. It feels like he’s trying to distract you. You let him.

Dessert comes not long after your drinks and looks amazing. It’s as delicious as it looks and the soft moan you let out when you first taste it has Jack even more riled. He’s ready to slam his drink, finish the dessert in two bites and get you the fastest taxi back to the hotel so that he can finally be tasting you or inside of you or fingering you. He doesn’t particularly care which at the moment, he just needs you. 

It hits you mid sip and you take a hum in, have to temper your reaction so you can swallow and not bring the glass down to the table so hard it breaks in your hand. “Tie raincheck.” You nod a little. “Tie raincheck, that is exactly what this is.” 

Jack raises his eyebrows at you, tries to feign confusion. “No idea what you mean, Doll.” Jack takes a sip of scotch.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Yes you do.”

Jack sets his drink down and looks up at you. “Dessert.” He points to it with his spoon.

“Tell me I’m right.” You can feel your pulse quicken, fight the urge to rub your legs together to get the tiniest bit of friction. You can feel yourself getting wetter for him as you think about what’s to come, how he’s going to use the tie on you. 

There’s a subtle shift in the energy between the two of you, Jack becoming far more dominant as you decide whether to behave or be a brat. “Doll.”

“Peter.”

Jack cocks his head at you. “Eat.” There’s a bit of a warning to it. 

“You know exactly what I mean. On the roof of the hospital because we didn’t get to go to the wedding.” You set your spoon down and lean in a bit. “You told me you promised to give me a raincheck on the tie because I’d said something earlier about what you’d wear to the wedding and the tie would be in your pocket at the reception waiting to be used on me.”   

Jack’s eyes darken a bit more and he sets his spoon down, leans in close to you over the table and holds your gaze. “I know that as soon as we finish this,” he nods down at the dessert without breaking eye contact that’s started to smolder, voice lower and more gravelly, “we can go back to the hotel and I can use the tie shoved in my pocket on you and fuck you until you’re so cock drunk off me the only three things you can say are ‘Jack,’ ‘yours,’ and ‘wife.’” He leans back to sit normally and picks his spoon back up, gives you a little smile like he didn’t just promise to fuck you stupid. “Dessert first, yeah?” 

It takes you a few seconds but eventually you nod wordlessly and pick up your spoon. 

You start eating noticeably faster than normal and taking bigger sips of your drink. Jack pins your spoon with the rounded point of his the next time you go for a bite. You look up at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed. You’re eating dessert like he asked. 

“Don’t rush.” You let out the smallest whine but Jack catches it, raises his eyebrows and tilts his head at you for a moment before letting your spoon go. 

You do as he asks, slow yourself back down to your normal pace, or at least as close as you can get with how wired he’s gotten you. Jack knows and lets it happen. He knows he’s taking slightly bigger bites than he normally would because as much as he loves teasing you and dragging it out he’s also pretty desperate to get back to the hotel, to tease you and drag it out there. 

You finally finish dessert and your drinks and Jack pays. He flags down a taxi to get you guys back to the hotel and the way he waves and whistles to get the driver’s attention since their window is down has absolutely no business being as hot as it is. 

In the cab you can’t help yourself. Your hand wanders over to Jack’s thigh and moves up and in until you find his semi. You know it’s going to come back to bite you in the ass but you can’t help yourself and rub him, try to get your thumb around the ridge at the head of his cock how you know he likes. Jack stifles a quiet grunt as you get him harder. His jaw clenches, chest starts to heave a little, breathing a bit louder. His hand wraps around your wrist and moves your hand, pins it to the seat between you. You pout, both because he’s stopped your fun and because he deliberately hasn’t given you the satisfaction and looked at you since you got in.   

Just as he always does Jack walks around the car and opens the door for you when you get to the hotel, gives you his hand to take to help you out. He looks at you finally as you take it and let him help you out, gives you a little smirked smile and raise of an eyebrow. He’s quiet as you walk through the hotel and in the elevator. You were hoping he’d push you up against the wall of it and makeout with you, let you find out if you can taste his scotch on him. But no. He just lets the anticipation and tension build. A hand on the small of your back guides you to your hotel room where he opens the door for you. 

“Stop,” Jack instructs you as you step into the bedroom. You hesitate and he sees it, sees you deciding whether you’re going to push him tonight. You decide not to and so do as he asks, stopping in place. “Good.” Jack turns and goes back to get the door deadbolted and secured before coming back to you. 

Warm hands find the zipper of your dress and pull it down, help you shrug out of it. He crouches to get your shoes off and have you step out of the dress. Jack takes his time hanging the dress up, watching from the corner of his eyes how you shift on your feet in anticipation. 

He walks back to you, stands in front of you this time, eyes dragging down your body, lingering on the lingerie you’re wearing, that he had to force himself to ignore after he got your dress off you so he could tease you by hanging it up. “You get this for me?” Jack slips a finger under one of the bra straps and pulls it away before releasing it to snap back against your skin. It makes you shiver. 

“Yes,” you breathe. 

Jack hums at that, brings his eyes to yours and gives you a smile. “So good using your words without me having to ask.” His attention returns to your body and the lingerie. He starts palming at himself over his pants much like you did in the cab. He lets out a low breath as he hardens fully and fights the urge to say fuck it and just take you now because god knows he wants to. 

Instead, he pulls his hands away and moves them down towards the bottom of the set where they play with the waistband, making their way to the side and repeating his actions with your bra, slipping a finger under it and pulling the material towards him before letting it snap back against you. You’re breathing much heavier now, both of you can hear it.

“It’s very pretty, and you’re stunning in it, Doll,” he murmurs, flicks his eyes back to yours so he can look you in the eyes for a second, make sure you know how much he means it. Jack hums as one hand moves to his pocket. He pulls out his pocket knife and flicks it open without looking as his other hand toys with one side of the waistband that sits on the outside of your hip. “It’s a shame really.”

He pulls the fabric out far enough to slip the blade under it and pulls, cutting through the material with ease. 

“Fuck, Jack.” His eyes flash to yours when you say his name. There’s something darkly and deeply possessive about his look. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen it this intense before. It makes your heart beat faster. 

He does the same to the other side, holds onto the material so that he can slide your underwear from between your legs before it hits the floor. He glances down at the gusset and then back at you. “Messy girl.” Jack smirks, and closes the knife, slips it back in his pocket with your underwear. He brings his hand down to your center, runs a couple of fingers through you to see how wet you already are for him. “Fuck,” he groans, other hand rubbing his cock just for some friction and relief, “that for me too?”

You nod and he raises an eyebrow. “Yes, yes. For you. Always for you.” 

Jack throbs against his boxer briefs that are entirely too tight for his liking now. You’re testing his patience without even knowing it, just by standing here and doing what he asks. It’s not a bad thing, he’s just acutely aware of how much teasing you is teasing him. 

He pulls his hand away and licks his fingers clean and his other hand pops the clasp of your bra. The whole thing makes a shiver race up your spine, goosebumps breaking out over your skin. He tosses the bra aside and spends a moment just looking at your breasts, licks his lips without even realizing it. 

Jack pulls away a bit and his hand finds his other pocket, pulls out the tie. You whimper a little at the sight. “Now, what to do with this?” He cocks his head at you. “Could gag you with it. Tie your ankles together.” His hands find yours, bring them up in front of you and turn your wrists slightly so that your hands are in front of your chest, palm to palm like you’re praying. “I think,” Jack lilts, “this is what we’re going to do. You were just so handsy in the cab, afterall, I’m sure you had your fill of touching me then. Plus,” he takes your underwear from your pocket and lays it over one of your shoulders, “we have these for your mouth.” He binds your hands together with the tie expertly, running it across the back of your palms and fingers in addition to your wrists so you can’t even open your hands to try and touch him. He knots it off with a bowline knot. Strong, but very easily undone should the need arise. 

“No!” You shake your head at him, whining and pleading. “I didn’t, I didn’t!”

Jack hums at you. “Well that’s also a shame, then.” He grabs your underwear from your shoulder and brings them to your mouth. “Open.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Jack freezes immediately. Wait is not one of your safe words but it’s also not something you end up saying that much during sex, especially not how you just said it. “No! Not bad!” That stops him from pulling out the knot. “A kiss, please.” It’s almost begged and Jack lets out a little laugh, a small amused smirk forming. “I want to know if I can taste your scotch on you, please, I’ve been thinking about it since you ordered it. Please, please, Jack. I’ll be so good, please!”

The smirk slips from Jack’s face as his jaw grinds at your words, at how you’ve been thinking about tasting him for that long. “I suppose you’ve been listening quite well so far.” You both know this is as much for him as it is for you after your admission. 

Jack holds your face in his hands and leans in to kiss you. Your mouth opens in anticipation and he’s quick to give you what you want, sliding his tongue into your mouth, one hand sliding from your face down to grope at your ass as he gets lost in the kiss. It’s longer than he intended but he doesn’t care, he can’t get enough of the moans it’s pulling from you every time he licks into you and sucks on your bottom lip. 

He forces himself to pull away. “So?”

“Yeah,” you pant, “I could. Tasted so fucking good.” 

“Good.” Jack steps back and takes his hands off you but hovers them nearby for a second to make sure your balance is okay with your hands tied like they are after leaning into him for the kiss. “I hope you enjoyed it because the next time I kiss you I won’t taste like it.” He brings your underwear back to your mouth. “You remember everything?” He’s asking if you remember how to get him to stop when you have neither your hands nor your mouth like this. You nod and he can see in your eyes that you do. “Good,” he nods. “Open.” You do and he stuffs your underwear inside of your mouth, thumb brushing over your bottom lip when he’s finished.

You track his every movement as he walks over to the desk and takes his blazer off, sets it over the back of the desk chair. He turns and looks at you, walks back so that he’s only six or so feet in front of you and undoes the button at one of his wrists, starts rolling his sleeve up just below his elbow, and doing the same with the second.

If you trusted yourself to get onto your knees safely with your hands tied like this you would, spit out your underwear and crawl over to him. But you don’t so all you can do is stand there and whine a few moans at him, try to plead with your eyes, for what you’re not entirely sure. 

Jack hums at you. “Bet you wish you hadn’t been handsy in the cab now, don’t you?”

You whimper at that, hand your shoulders a little. Jack smirks. 

He walks to the bathroom and grabs a clean towel, lays it over the edge of the bed. “Go sit.” You do as he asks, quivering in anticipation the whole time. Jack walks to the head of the bed and grabs a bunch of pillows, props them all right behind you. He wants you to lean back and watch, wants to be able to make eye contact with you. 

Jack walks back to the edge of the bed and stands in between your legs when they automatically part for them. “You gonna be good and watch?” 

You nod rapidly, not even sure what it is you’re going to be watching but knowing it’s going to feel almost too good and be almost too erotic to stand with how keyed up you are.

“Good,” Jack nods. He sinks to his knees then and you let out a muffled cry at the realization. His hands find your ankles and he rests the flat of your feet on his shoulders, pulls you down by the hips so that your ass will just slightly be hanging off the bed and tilting your hips up when he gets you to lay back. He pulls the pillows closer to you again. “Lay back.”

Jack nods at you, looks down at your cunt, now perfectly on display for him, swollen and glistening. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, smirks when it has the desired effect and has you clenching around nothing and whining. Jack kisses the insides of your thighs, sucks at your skin hard enough to burst blood vessels, nibbles at you. He turns his attention back to your pussy. “You smell so good.” He kisses just above your clit and you roll your hips, using his shoulders as leverage. He tilts his head and rests it on your thigh for a second as he looks up at you. It’s a bit of an unexpected move, not one you can recall him doing to you, though you frequently do it to him when you’re taking him in your mouth. Jack breathes in deep through his nose and groans from his chest. “Always smell so good for me. And you taste just as good.”

You whimper and clench around nothing just as Jack surges forward and licks you cunt to clit. You flinch at the feeling, hips bucking up. The vibration of Jack’s laugh meets your clit as he sucks it into his mouth, his hands finding your hips and pinning them down. 

He teases your clit with the tip of his tongue as he sucks on it, gently rolls it between his teeth before pulling away. His tongue circles around it and then drops down, pushes inside your pussy, fucks you a few times before it figure eights back up to your clit, flicks over it rapidly before he sucks it into his mouth again. 

You’re wailing for him because you can be with your underwear muffling every cry and moan his tongue rips for you. You’re teary from the pleasure already, your whole body on fire. You never want him to stop it feels so good. Your hips struggle against Jack’s hands, trying to buck up to no avail, hands straining against the tie because you want your hands in his hair so badly, want to grip at the sheets, something, anything. 

The intense eye contact you share makes Jack’s tongue feel even better, the pleasure in the creases of his eyes and pull of his eyebrows helping get you off. There’s something about knowing how much he loves this, knowing how much he loves eating you specifically out that drives you insane, has your toes curling against his shoulders. He’d told you once, you can hear it in your head now in that low gravelly voice of his, that he was always very whatever about it, didn’t love or hate it, but would do it of course, until he met you, and now he loves it, craves it, wants to be doing it all the time, finds himself missing it at random moments during his days. 

Jack repeats his movements, groans and grunts into you as he alternates sucking and licking and tongue fucking you in different patterns right to the edge. It doesn’t take long. You’re close, already. And if he had more patience and wasn’t as painfully hard as he is he would back off, drag it out longer, edge you a bit. 

He sucks at your clit until it pops out of his mouth as he pulls his head away. “I want you to focus and feel, Doll. And keep your eyes on mine.”

You moan something that sounds like you’re trying to say ‘I am’ through your underwear. 

“No.” His voice is sharp, cuts through your pleasure haze, eyes blazing. “Focus and feel it.” You’re not sure what it means but you nod, you’ll do anything for him right now. 

Jack holds your gaze for another moment before glancing down at your cunt and sucking at your clit. He looks back up at you as he releases your clit and flicks his tongue over it with precise strokes that are just the right pressure to pull tears from your eyes because of the intensity of it all. He raises his eyebrows slightly, a reminder to focus and feel it. 

You do, ground yourself in Jack’s eyes as you look at him and focus and feel. It hits you. You take in a gasped shuddery breath, try to say ‘oh my god’ around your underwear but it just comes out as a moan and a sob. 

The strokes of his tongue against you aren’t just precise. They’re spelling out his name. He starts over when he knows you’ve got it. J a c k A b b o t M i n e M y W i f e. You’re almost hyperventilating it feels so good, is so possessive it augments the feeling of his tongue three-fold. Once he’s finished the final e of wife he starts over with a J and one hand leaves a hip. 

You’re so focused on Jack and his eyes that you don’t even see it about to happen, though you theoretically would be able to. Two fingers slide inside you, easily with how wet you are. Jack finds that spongy spot inside of you makes a rapid come hither motion and you’re gone. 

It shoves you over the edge, launches you over it really. The groans you’re pulling from Jack just from coming on his fingers as his tongue laps at you make your orgasm crash into you even harder. You knew you were close and it was going to hit you soon but it still catches you off guard. It’s blinding, you try so hard to keep your eyes open and give Jack the eye contact you know he wants, is demanding of you. But something has to give, you have to take one sense back from him. 

You sob out moans around your underwear, enjoy the freedom you have to not hold back for fear of being too loud in a hotel. You try saying his name around it, aren’t even fully conscious of it because of how fucked out of your mind you are, how little control you have over your body and mind right now. 

He starts to ease off and slows just when he needs to, right before the point of painful overstimulation. Because that’s not what he wants tonight. He just wants you to feel good. He laps at your pussy a few times to clean you up a bit and get a few last tastes of you. 

You whimper when he pulls away and stands up and looks down at you. You got so wet and so messy that almost the entire bottom half of his face is slick and shining with you. He smirks at you, licks his two fingers clean before bending down and grabbing your bra from the floor and uses the cups to wipe his face off. “You are,” it’s a little panted, “so delicious. I could do that forever. Live between your legs like that.” His words make you whimper again. 

Jack helps you sit up so he can clear the pillows away then lay you back on the bed. He walks around the side and pulls the comforter down and then moves you so that your feet and head face the side of the bed, not the headboard and end. “God, Doll.” You can hear him messing with his shirt, unbuttoning it and throwing it to the floor, undershirt joining it a second later. “I could’ve come from just that. Just fucked my fist once or twice and lost it just from the way you taste and how pretty you sound when you come even all muffled and how hard you gripped my fingers.”

You moan at that, wish that you could see him getting undressed and talking about you like that. The clinking of metal tells you he’s undoing his belt, the soft thump of fabric hitting the floor a second or so later. Both pants and boxer briefs if you had to guess. 

It’s quiet for a second until you strain and hear the softest hum of skin rubbing skin. Jack’s stroking himself slowly, eyes roaming your body intently. You whine. You want him back, want him inside you. Need him inside you. 

“Need something, Doll?” Jack asks as he climbs on the bed and up your body so that he hovers over you. You blink hard at him and try to say ‘you.’ Jack uses a hand to wipe away some of the fresh tears that slip from your eyes. “Me? Just like this? So you can see since you can’t touch or speak?” You nod quickly and repeatedly, drop your shoulders and widen your eyes to say please. “Well,” Jack starts as he pulls away from you and moves to the side of your legs, “that’s not the plan baby.”

He flips you over so that you’re on your stomach, grabs your hips and pulls them up so that you’re on your knees. Even with your hands tied together like they are you’re still able to push the front half of your body up on your elbows a little. “I just really love having you from behind sometimes, you know?” Jack moves to kneel between your legs, runs a hand through your cunt and uses it to slick his cock before sliding it between your lips and running it through you, head nudging at your clit. “Love looking at your ass.” His hands grip your cheeks, squeeze a bit roughly. 

You’ve come back down enough now that your mind is a little less hazy and you have the wherewithal to moan as you move your hips back and forth in time with his as he slides through you. Jack laughs, pinches one of your ass cheeks. “Impatient girl.” A hand presses into your lower back to still you and a second later you feel Jack’s other hand helping line himself up. “That’s okay, I’m a little impatient right now too.”

Jack slowly pushes into you, a flurry of curse words falling off his tongue as he does, a long moan from you until he bottoms out. 

“We’ve barely started planning the wedding and I’m already impatient for you to be my wife.” Jack pulls out of you, right to the tip, hand still pressing into your lower back. “Impatient for you to have my last name.”

It’s slow at first, teasing the both of you really, long, patient strokes out of you followed by easing himself back in. It’s slow until it isn’t, because Jack doesn’t slowly build up to a faster pace. He just pulls out of you slowly again but snaps his hips to get himself inside of you quickly, sets an unrelenting pace, hands finding your hips and pulling you back onto him so he can fuck you harder with every thrust. 

“You’re already mine,” Jack grunts. “So fucking mine, god!” You feel so good, are so wet and tight for him and he is so impossibly deep in you that it makes it harder for him to say what he wants, thought starts to go. “Everyone knows from the fucking rock on your finger.” He keeps fucking you at the same pace, doesn’t slow down for a second. It shakes the bed, hard, and it’s the reason he put you sideways, so the headboard didn’t keep slamming against the wall and earn you a noise complaint. “Everyone knows you belong to me. Knows you’re mine.”

You’re reduced to tears and moans by his words, struggle to keep yourself up as your whole body shakes.

“I love fucking you like this. Can get so deep, fuck you so hard.” His hands find just above your hips and he pushes down, hard, but not hard enough to hurt. It tilts your pelvis even further for him, lets him get even deeper. “Can fuck my pussy. So. Fucking. Deep.” Each word is punctuated by a sharp snap of his hips.

You sob at it at the same time Jack growls your name. He has never fucked you this deep before, has never been quite this feral. You have no idea what’s set him off like this but you’d like to know so you can keep it in your back pocket. It’s the last semi-coherent thought you have. 

His pace grows frenetic, strokes just as hard and fast but not in the same regular rhythm they had been as Jack gets further drunk off you. Jack pulls out right before he’s about to come and you sob at the loss. You don’t have much time to think about it or be sad though because he’s flipping you over and leaning over you and thrusting back inside of you in seconds. He’s still though. 

“You’ve been such a good girl,” he murmurs through a pant as he undoes the knot of the tie and unwraps your hands. “Taken it all so beautifully.” His praise makes you shiver as he removes your underwear from your mouth, makes the fire that’s taken over your body burn even hotter.

His hands take yours carefully and he kisses at some of the indented marks left by the tie before rubbing each hand and wrist out for a second. He wipes at your mouth after, helps remove the saliva that’s dripped out from having the gag in. You’re panting hard, punctuated by hiccupped breaths from your tears. “So good for me.” His thumb brushes over your lip and then he leans down and kisses you, presses his body into yours and slowly raises his hips to pull himself out of you. 

Your hands run up his neck and tangle in his hair. The relief that feeling the unfairly silky strands against your hands brings you is almost comical. It’s just his hair. Just running your hands through his hair. The kiss isn’t as long as either of you would like since you’re both panting pretty hard, already out of breath. “I mean it you know.” He nods, pushing back in slowly, just like he had earlier. “I can’t wait for you to be my wife.” 

“I know.” Your voice is raw. “I can’t wait to be your wife.” 

“Good,” Jack murmurs, presses another soft kiss to your lips. “I have a promise to keep.”

He’s straightening up and throwing your legs over his shoulders before you can process his words and try to think about what promise he’s talking about. And then Jack’s right back to fucking you. Hard. With a kind of nearly reckless abandon that’s driven by sheer need. 

“Jack!” You tug his hair hard and it just spurs him on, makes his hips move faster somehow. “Oh fuck, I’m, it’s too, you’re too…” You shake your head a little, don’t even know what you’re trying to say, “Please. Please.”

“Please what?” Jack pants out as he leans into you further, rolls your hips up more so he can get even deeper. “What Doll? Please what?”

“Any, anything!” You’re lost in the sensation of him. He’s all you have, all that exists to you right now. “I, I.” A little moaned sob leaves you as you give up trying, let your eyes flutter closed. 

Jack laughs darkly. “You’re so fucking-” Jack has to stop to groan when you somehow find it in you to rock your hips in time with him. He doesn’t remember what he was going to say. “Mine,” he growls at your ear. “You’re fucking mine.” Jack slips his hands below your shoulders, rests on his elbows and curls his fingers in your hair. He uses it as leverage to push you down onto him so he can fuck you even harder. He’s got you nearly pressed in half, your hips tilted so far up he’s snapping his hips and fucking nearly straight down into you. “Look at me.” 

“Jack, I, I, I can’t,” you stutter through a moan. “Can’t, I can’t.”

“Yes the fuck you can,” he growls. “I know you fucking can, Doll.” You force your eyes open, Jack coming into focus as your tears clear enough to really see him. You’re glad he made you open them because fuck does he look good. Jack is feral and possessive in a way you haven’t seen before and is fucking you harder than he ever has before and is somehow even deeper than in your last position. A few sweaty curls stick to his forehead, eyes absolutely wild, blown so wide you’d struggle to tell what color his irises are if you didn’t already know. His flushed face and neck are strained, veins more prominent than usual. 

And Jack is looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists to him in this moment. Like he’s so attracted to you that he can’t get enough of you. Like fucking you is a privilege. Like he needs you so bad it hurts. Like he’ll never have enough of you. Like he knows you’re his in every sense of the word. Like he knows how good he’s fucking you, cocky and proud.

“That’s my good girl,” he purrs at you, all gravel and rasp. Every thrust steals your breath as it sends another wave of pleasure through you. It’s dizzying, how he’s making you feel physically and emotionally. He always makes you feel so wanted but it’s even more heightened right now. He’s desperate for you. You’re the only thing on his mind. “Whose are you?”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to find the word, panting out small sobs until it mercifully runs through your mind. “Y-yours Jack,” you cry, “yours!”

“That’s fucking right,” he growls again, leans his head into your neck and sucks hard. “And.” it’s harder for him to get words out too. Jack’s just as pussy drunk as you are cock drunk. “What are you gonna fu-fucking be?”

Your hands slide from his hair down to the side of his neck and back. Jack loves the sharp pain it brings, somewhere some part of him knows he’ll have scratch marks and bruises tomorrow. You’re a panting, sweaty mess beneath him. “I…” You’re so far gone you hardly know how to begin to even try to think to find the word. 

He sucks at your neck one last time and pulls back up. You haven’t answered him. “Eyes back on me,” he orders. You comply, eyes opening to find his again. “What’re you-” Jack groans as you squeeze him even tighter. “Fucking christ you’re so good, feel so fuckin’ good!” Jack’s derailed for a moment by his pleasure, the pleasure you’re giving him. But the promise comes back to him. “What’re you gonna be?” 

You’re all whimpers and whines as you open and close your mouth as you look for the word. Jack chuckles darkly. He starts to mouth the word at you and it hits. 

“Wife,” you moan, at the pleasure you’re feeling and the thought. “Your wife!”

“Fuck!” Jack snaps his hips even harder when you say it. He loves hearing you say it. “That’s right. My wife. My fucking wife. My fucking wife with her perfect fucking pussy that’s mine. You are fucking mine.” Jack starts to babble as he gets closer and closer. “Anything else to say Doll?” he chokes out through heavy pants. 

You shake your head, let out a sob. You need this. Need him, need to come, need to feel him come. “Jack!” Your nails dig into his back and neck. “Jack!” you moan again. It’s the only word your brain can come up with unprompted. 

“Good,” he grunts, panting hard as he shifts and slides a hand between you, circles at your clit. He doesn’t even mean to pull it from you that fast but you’re so close and so far fucking gone that it’s just a few swipes of his fingers and you’re coming, the pleasure searing every nerve. 

You’ll look back and know that it’s easily the hardest you’ve ever come, easily. You’re rendered totally breathless, completely lost to the pleasure flooding you. Jack’s right behind you, his orgasm catching him just as off guard as yours caught you. You get so tight around him, sound so beautiful in the seconds before you come and force yourself to keep your eyes open and look at him, teary and fucked out and like you know you belong to him, that he’s slamming into you, pulling his hand from your clit and grinding himself against you as he tries to prolong his release and yours. 

There are no words for either of you, both of you rendered completely speechless by the intensity of the orgasms ripping through you. Jack gets his voice back first, an absolutely strangled groan of your name from somewhere deep in his chest. It has to be one of the most erotic sounds you’ve ever heard him make. Your voice comes back shortly after, as do your tears because you are still so overwhelmed with pleasure and feelings and Jack. You moan his name over and over. 

Jack collapses on you carefully, so that his head is at your chest and your torso isn’t completely covered by his making it harder to breathe. He’s shaking just as badly as you are, both of your bodies have no idea what to do with all the pleasure. You’re both panting hard, still a bit lost in your minds to it. You trade off moaned and groaned fucks and oh gods and I love yous and each other’s names as you come back down, occasional aftershocks hitting you both and making you whine. He kisses at your chest wherever his lips happen to reach. 

Jack’s forcing himself to get back quicker. He has the instinctive drive to take care of you. You need him. That was a lot to take and you were properly sobbing. “Okay,” he finally pants out minutes later. “You are so fucking good, fuck me. You feel so good.” He pushes himself up so that he can lean down and give you some soft kisses to your lips and also your face, the bruise he sucked into your neck, your collarbones, the top of your breasts. “My good girl. So perfect and beautiful for me.” He gives you a few more kisses and then he forces himself to roll off you. 

“Jack?” you whimper. You miss him already, miss his body weight helping calm your shakes and his warmth and his smell. You’d stopped sobbing and Jack doesn’t want you to get teary again.

“Shh,” he soothes you, “it’s okay, I’m right here.” Jack sits up and pulls you into his arms before grabbing the comforter and sliding you both up the bed so he can hold you as he reclines on the headboard. You curl into his chest once he’s settled and strong arms pull the comforter over the both of you before slipping under it and wrapping around you tightly, putting pressure on you to help with the shakes. His are almost gone now. “You did so fucking well,” he murmurs through softening pants. “I love you.” He kisses the top of your head. “You were so good, I’m so proud of you.” 

“I love you too,” you murmur, absolutely fucking glowing in his arms at the praise, smiling to yourself as you nuzzle his chest. If his arms weren’t wrapped so tightly around your body you think you’d be floating away from how good you feel.

Jack shifts, grabs a bottle of water from the nightstand and opens it. “Water, yeah? Please.” 

You whine at his request, but this one is playful, you’re back with him. “Don’t wanna move.” 

Jack laughs softly. “You barely have to, just lift your head a little, okay?” You huff a little but do as he asks and he holds the water for you, tips it carefully so that it doesn’t flow too fast for you and pulls away when you start to pull back. “Thank you Doll.” 

“Thank you,” you hum at him in response, settle your head back on his chest. “You’re so fucking good too, you know. I hope you know. I’ve never been fucked the way you fuck me.”

“Always. And I do know. Believe me, you make sure I fucking know.” Jack takes a couple of sips of his own before recapping the bottle and setting it on the table again. He holds you tight again, kisses the top of your head every now and then. “You doing okay, Doll?” 

“So, so much more than okay.” You realize with how raw your voice is and how you’re still shaking a little it’s not very reassuring. “My body just,” you take in a deep breath, “doesn’t know what to do, but I feel good. I feel amazing. That was so fucking good Jack, you felt so fucking good, made me feel so fucking good. I feel like I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have just gotten fucked like that.” You sigh so dreamily it makes you giggle. 

“Good,” he murmurs, chuckles just a little from your last sentence and your giggles. He knows you’re okay and relaxes. “We’ll take a bath in a few minutes, yeah? You can go to the bathroom, have some more water for me. Maybe have a snack. And then I’ll massage you out a little, once we’re out of the bath, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that.” You kiss his chest because he’s the sweetest. 

“I do. I always need to take care of you after regardless of how hard or soft it is. But more than that I always want to, okay?” Jack kisses the top of your head. 

“I know. And I want to take care of you too.” You run a hand through his sweat damp curls, scratch at his scalp. Your shaking has stopped now. 

Jack’s head leans into your hand on instinct because of how good it feels. “You always do,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut. “I love you Doll.”

“I love you too Peter.” He can feel your smile against his chest. “Kinda sleepy.” 

Jack lets out a little laugh through his nose. “I’m sure you are. I am too. Let’s get you into the bathroom, yeah? You can pee while I start the bath and then once we’re in you can even doze on me a bit if you want okay?” 

“Yeah.” You nod a little and take in a deep breath before moving with Jack so that you’re both properly sitting up. 

He stands up and holds his hands out for you. You’re so blissed out you don’t even realize he’d left his prosthetic on. “Ready?” 

“Ready.” You grab his hands as you push off the bed and wow can you feel the soreness and stiffness already. And that’s on top of how your legs feel weak and shaky right now from how thoroughly you’ve just been fucked. You let out the softest groan of pain.

Jack catches it immediately, wraps his arm around you to help support you. “You okay?” You look up at Jack and nod, give him a smile. Because you are. You fucking love it. Love this feeling and how he takes care of you and lets you take care of him in the bath. Jack helps you into the bathroom and to the toilet while he starts the bath. 

As always, he pours in a copious amount of bubble bath gel. You’d told him once that bubble baths were your favorite and so he always tries to make sure there’s something for you. Bubbles or a bath bomb, you’d mentioned liking those once. This is the upscale expensive brand bubble bath that the hotel provides. You both enjoy the way it smells. 

“Peter?” you call to him from the small separate area where the toilet is. 

“What’s up? You okay?” Jack’s already moving towards you. 

“Can we have bubbles?” You support yourself on the wall and stand and flush as he comes into view. “I forgot to ask.” 

Jack gets an arm around you to help support you and smiles, kissing and nipping at the tip of your nose just so he can hear your fucked-out, sleepy laugh again. “You’ve got bubbles already waiting for you, Doll. You never need to ask. I’ve got you.”

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

It’s the day of your third anniversary. 

You and Jack didn’t abide by the whole not seeing each other or sleeping in the same bed the night before your wedding thing. You stir awake curled against Jack’s chest, nuzzling into him and intertwining your legs further as you settle back against his chest, not ready to fully wake up and open your eyes to the world. Jack’s hands start to rub up and down your back and you feel the vibrations of his low chuckle in his chest more than you hear it. 

“I think it’s time to get up, sleepy girl,” Jack hums at you. 

You shake your head against him lazily. “Don’t wanna leave this. You.”

Your voice is so sleepy and adorable Jack can hardly stand it. “You know what today is?”

“Mm,” you hum at him, make no effort to pull yourself further awake. “Saturday.” Jack scoffs a laugh and rolls his eyes affectionately even though you can’t see. You smile against his chest as he shakes his head. “Am I wrong?” 

“No,” Jack concedes, gives your ass a little pinch. That makes you jolt in his arms and yelp, not because it hurt because it surprised you. “But that’s not what I was looking for.”

“I can’t believe you just pinched my ass to wake me up on the morning of our third anniversary and wedding!” You don’t move an inch and Jack gets the answers he was looking for.

“I did not!” Jack huffs with a laugh. “You were already awake when I pinched you!” 

“The pedantism I’m facing at this hour of the morning is unreal,” you sigh dramatically. 

“Oh that was hardly pedantic, and you know it.” 

“I know no such thing. But,” you pause for effect and to kiss at Jack’s collarbone, nibble at it just a little. The reaction from him is immediate, hips canting just slightly against yours. You’ve felt how hard he’s been this entire time. “I do know that if we stop debating it you’ll have enough time to fuck me one last time as your fiancée. If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

Jack’s already rolling you onto your back before you even finish the word fiancée. “Say it again.” His voice is lower than normal, more grit to it than usual even for mornings. The thought is too much. He knew it of course, you kind of half did last night just in case you wouldn’t have time this morning but still. 

“Fuck me one last time as your fiancée Jack.” Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at the salt and pepper curls that are just a centimeter or so longer than when you met as Jack starts kissing at your neck, just kisses, just uses his lips to tease you and grinds up against you. “Fuck me one last time with this last name.” Jack stills at that. Obviously he knew your last name was changing but until you said it he hadn’t thought about it in this context. It makes him a little more feral somehow. He lifts his head from your neck and gazes down at you, eyes blown wide and panting a little. You can tell from his gaze that he’s about to, that he’s already there and thinking of ways he can go hard without risking marking you or making you unable to walk or making you cry and risk swollen eyes. 

“Jack,” you moan his name softly as you roll your hips as he grinds against you. “Fuck me one last time before my last name is Abbot.”

And so he does. 

Jack stands in front of his dress blues where they hang waiting for him to put them on. It’s hard not to think about it, about the last time he saw himself wearing these. At your funeral. And yes, it was just a nightmare, but still. He can’t help the little pang that hits him. You could have died. He’s so aware of it. He could be standing in front of them trying to force himself to get in them so he could get to your funeral. You could have died.

But you didn’t. You’re alive and off in your own room getting your hair and makeup done, slipping into your wedding dress. The thought makes him smile. Jack is wearing his dress blues to marry you, to start a new chapter with you, not to say goodbye to you. 

“You good?” Robby walks in before Jack can fully pull himself out of it. 

“Yeah,” Jack nods. “I’m more than good. I’m marrying her today.” Robby doesn’t say anything, waits to see if Jack has more to say. “In that nightmare, of her funeral, I wore my dress blues. And Michael, she is so fucking good and imperfectly perfect and so herself and she loves me so fucking much, with this intensity that I’m not sure I deserve that it feels like it’s too good to be true somedays, like she’s too good. Like this life with her is the dream and that nightmare is reality and I’m going to wake up any second in your guest bedroom without her and be back in that nightmare.”

Robby nods slowly, takes in a breath as he thinks. “Well,” he draws the word out in contemplation. “I can promise you this isn’t a dream Jack. You’re not waking up from this to the nightmare that life without her would be for you.”

“I know. And I don’t want to seem sad, because I’m not, I’m so far away from sad.” Jack pauses, gets a little quieter. “She’s everything, Michael. She’s the only thing I’ll ever need. And I’m marrying her today and it’s so fucking cliché but it feels too good to be true because what could I have ever done in any lifetime, let alone this one, to deserve her?” 

“I don’t think you’re sad Jack. I think you’re in love and about to get married and with everything you guys have been through I can understand why it’d throw you for a second.” Robby walks in the room a little closer to Jack and leans his back against the wall the closet is on so he can see Jack’s face. “But I know for a fact that she’s getting ready right now thinking, for reasons I may never personally understand,” he lets out a small laugh which Jack preemptively rolls his eyes at, “the same about you. That you’re too good to be true. That life with you is a dream or too good to be true. And knowing her how I do now, I’d be willing to hazard a guess that she’s probably not sure what she did to deserve you either, not sure she deserves you.” 

Jack finally pulls his eyes from his dress blues to look over at Robby. He doesn’t say anything though, voice just a little too thick with emotion. 

“And to that I have two things to say. One,” he holds out a finger of his left hand horizontally in front of him and wraps his right hand around it, “I love you both dearly, I really do, but you are both fucking idiots for thinking you don’t deserve each other and your love. And two,” he moves his right hand off his one finger and holds out a second that his right hand then wraps back around, “you do deserve each other and each other’s love. Why is she worthy of your love, but you’re not worthy of hers?” It’s a rhetorical question. “Because Jack, you say she’s everything and I know she is, I believe you. I see the way you look at her and hear the way you talk about her. But you are everything to her in the same way, the same capacity. She looks at you the same way, talks about you the same way. The way that you love her and feel about her and the intensity of your love for her, is exactly the same as how she loves you and feels about you and the intensity of her love for you.” Robby shakes his head a little and takes in a big breath before letting it out. “And she deserves you and your love, right?” Jack nods. “Well Jack, you deserve her love. And I think that today, on the day of your wedding, would be a really good day to let yourself accept that. That you deserve her and her love and to be loved at the same intensity with which you love her.”

It’s quiet as the two look at each other. Robby’s words hit Jack hard. He’s right. Jack hates admitting it but he’s right. All he can do is nod at Robby who gives him a little smile in return. After a second Jack clears his throat. “God Michael, our therapist is really rubbing off on you. How often are you seeing him? You thinking about leaving me to go become a psychologist?”

“Ha!” Robby laughs. He knows by the use of his real name that Jack’s thanking him in the only way he can right now. “He’s got jokes.”

Jack laughs with him but grows a little more serious. “Are you going to give her the same spiel?

Robby nods. “I can go right now and do it, see her in her-”

“No! Do not!” Jack cuts him off, Robby smirking and laughing. “You can talk to her through the door. Or have a dance with her or something later.”

“Whatever you want, brother. Get dressed.” Robby squeezes Jack’s shoulder as he walks by to step out of the room.  

Jack lingers on his hanging dress blues for just another second before taking them down and getting into them. Robby walks back in once he has his shirt and pants on, jacket still hanging. “For you.” Robby hands him a decently sized small box. 

“Aw, Robby, you shouldn’t have,” Jack teases him. 

Robby snorts. “I didn’t.” 

Jack’s eyebrows raise at that and he opens the box. Inside is another box, a recognizable box and in that box is a watch. He finds a small note. So you can’t be late to our forever. ;) I love you more, Doll. Jack lets out a little laugh to himself, shakes his head. He sets the boxes on the dresser in front of him and takes the watch out, puts it on. It fits perfectly without needing any links removed or added and he’s sure it’s because you measured his wrist during the night or when he fell asleep on the couch at some point. 

“Ready?” Robby is holding Jack’s coat open for him. Jack nods and slips it on, stands in front of the mirror while he buttons it to check it all looks okay. He makes sure to slide two handkerchiefs into one of his pockets. “I have the rings.” Robby touches where his inside pocket is. There’s a knock on the door. “I think that’s my cue.” Robby walks over to Jack and they share a hug. “I’m so happy for you Jack. I’ll send her in, yeah?” Jack nods and Robby starts walking over to the door. 

Not far away you’re in your own room getting ready. Even though you and Jack had decided not to have a bridal party, your dress shopping party is there with you, getting hair and makeup done too as they prefer, just for the experience and fun. 

Once you’re done you sit around chatting as Heather, Dana, Mel and your friend get theirs done. You laugh at something Dana says as Mel walks up and sits next to you. “I have something for you.” She hands you a box that’s six or seven inches in length, not overly thick. 

You take the box from her and smile. “Thank you Mel, that’s so sweet of you.” 

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not from me.” You furrow your brows at her and give her a confused smile. “I think you should open it.” 

You give her one last confused look and then unwrap the box. It has a note on top. Something new. Love you more, Peter. You shake your head as you smile to yourself. You remember him asking on the way to your bridal shower. You hadn’t thought much of it since then, but had a moment or two where you kind of wished you could. At least now you’ll have one of the four. You set the note aside and open the box. “Oh my god, Jack,” you whisper to yourself as you take in the diamond tennis bracelet. The metal matches that of your engagement and wedding rings, diamonds the perfect shape. 

“Wow,” Mel laughs a little stunned as she takes in the bracelet with you. “It’s beautiful. Very sparkly.” 

“I love sparkly,” you murmur to yourself as you nod slowly, still a little stunned. You’re not surprised by it in the sense that it’s a very Jack thing to do, you’re just still in disbelief sometimes that you found Jack, think you probably don’t deserve someone as good as him. He did this for you. Got this for you. Just because he wanted to. 

“Want me to put it on?” Mel asks.

You glance up at Mel at her words. It takes a moment for them to process and then you nod. “Please.” She takes it carefully from the box and you hold your wrist up for her. She brings it over and gets it clasped and you shake your wrist a little to get it to settle. “Fuck,” you breathe out. It’s even more stunning on. 

“Yeah, I’ll say.” Heather smirks as she comes closer to take a look, Dana and your friend following. You all spend too long looking at it before you settle back in. 

Your friend is the next one to come sit by you. She hands you a box that’s a little bigger than a necklace box. “This one is not from your almost husband. It’s from me.” She raises her eyebrows at you and gives you a little smirk as you start to open it. Inside is the garter she’d helped you pick out one day, only in a light shade of blue. “Something blue.” 

“Thank you,” you tell her with a slightly trembling voice. You know she hand dyed it for you, took that time out of her busy schedule to do that for you. “It’s even more beautiful in blue,” you laugh. Your laugh draws attention and you quickly hold it up. “Pretty blue garter,” the three who work with Jack collectively make noises of fake disgust and gagging, “mhm, yep, that’s what I thought.” You all share a laugh. 

You smile at Heather when she comes to sit by you. “Old or borrowed?” You ask with a smirk and raised brows. 

She’s smiling as she offers you what is a necklace box. “I’m not sure if it really counts as old,” she says as you open it, “so I have a backup just in case.” You raise your brows at her as you take the lid off. Inside is a larger cameo locket with a humming bird on it. It’s beautiful in its simplicity. “Open it. Also I didn’t envision you wearing it, I thought maybe you could wrap the chain around your bouquet, have the locket in the front or back depending on what you think.” 

You carefully take it out of the box and open it. Inside is a locket sized photo of you and Jack. “Oh my god,” you whisper. “That’s the first photo Jack and I ever took together.” You look up at Heather glassy eyed. “How?”

“Remember when we went to that cocktail bar a month or so ago and I happened to bring up photos in conversation and steered it towards first photos of all the couples. You showed me your guys’ while Dana was showing you the one of her and her husband she’d taken a picture of on her phone. I was able to air drop it to myself before giving your phone back. I took a little advantage of you being a little tipsy.” She shrugs, but you both laugh. You’re back to looking at the photo of you and Jack, running your finger down the edge of the locket. “I found the locket itself at an antique store. Hummingbirds are a symbol of resilience because of how resilient they are. And with everything that you guys have already survived together, resilience felt right for the two of you.” 

“Heather,” you breathe shakily, as you look back to her, lips pressed in a line but pulled up in a smile that says you’re trying not to cry. “This is incredible. Thank you.”

“That’s so fuckin sweet,” Dana dabs at her eyes. It’s then you realize her, Mel and your friend have gotten close. You pass the locket around so they can all see the photo. “You’re making us all look bad Heather!”

Heather laughs and shrugs. “Idea just came to me.” You smile at her again and reach out and squeeze her hand, nodding at her in thanks again. 

“Well, I suppose cat’s outta the bag that I’m borrowed.” Dana walks over to her purse and grabs a small ring box from it and hands it to you. You open it to reveal a beautiful art deco style ring inlaid with diamonds. “I know it’s a very particular style, but that ring has been worn by every Evans woman who has gotten married for the last hundred and two years. Not a single divorce.” 

“Oh Dana, it’s beautiful.” You look up at her. “But I’m not an Evans and I wouldn’t want to risk messing up it’s ma-” 

“No.” Dana cuts you off with a ‘please’ look. “None of that bullshit. You are an Evans. So is Jack. Even if not in name.” You look back down at the ring and then up at her, round eyes and eyebrows slightly furrowed, a silent ‘really?’ “I brought ring sizers just in case it doesn’t fit on a finger on your right hand. We can make it work.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper when she gets closer, swallowing thickly. “It means more than you know.” Dana doesn’t say anything back, just smiles as she helps you try on the ring. It fits perfectly on your right ring finger, your engagement ring sitting above it for now until after the ceremony. Once you have the ring on and the locket around your bouquet, you set your garter on the bed to put on before your dress. “There we go. Something old something new something borrowed something blue. He made it happen. That man.” You laugh a little to yourself as do the others. 

“So,” Mel clears her throat, “the rhyme actually ends with ‘and a sixpence in her shoe.’ I wasn’t really sure if you’d want to do that or if someone else would get one, so I got one just in case. It goes in the left shoe” Mel holds it up. “I brought some quick set epoxy if you wanted to glue it to the bottom of your shoe if it’s heeled and has a spot that won’t hit the ground, or it has a small hole and can become like a charm or even get sewn onto the shoe. Or you can put it somewhere else. If you want.” She smiles at you. “But totally cool if you don’t.” 

“No no, we have to have the full rhyme!” You cock your head at her and smile. “It’s perfect Mel. Thank you so much.” You walk over and grab your shoes. “Help me get it on my left shoe somewhere?” Mel nods and the two of you step over to the desk to survey your options and decide how best to do it while everyone else finishes up. “Thank you Mel. I would have been so annoyed if I found out we didn’t do the entire thing after,” you laugh. 

“I thought you might be,” she laughs with you. “I’m glad it worked out.” By the time you and Mel turn back to the group everyone is finished with hair and makeup.

“All right, we’ll head out and let you get dressed.” Heather gives you a knowing smile and walks over to hug you tight, followed by Mel and your friend, each of them congratulating you and saying how happy they are for you and Jack before walking out.

The door closes and it’s just you and Dana now. She was the only one who went to any of your fittings with you, so she’s the only one to see you in the dress with it fitted properly. It doesn’t take long to get you in it, all things considered, and your accessories don’t take too long either. 

Dana steps back to survey you for a few seconds before you turn to look at yourself in the mirror. The dress still makes you feel like it did when you first bought it. It makes you feel good, makes you feel how Jack makes you feel when he looks at you. Special and beautiful. And this is it. You’re in your dress for real this time. All of your accessories on, hair and makeup done, shoes on. You’re going to go walk down the aisle to Jack in not more than ten minutes.   

“You look beautiful, kid.” Dana’s eyes are a little glassy as you look at each other through the mirror. “I’m really happy for you guys. You are so so good for him. I’ve never seen him so happy, and I’ve known him a long time.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, giving her a tight smile and tilting your head back a little trying to stop any tears from forming. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to cry yet.” 

Dana laughs. “It’s okay. If you’re all good I’m going to head to my seat.”

You nod. “Thank you. I mean it Dana. We’re lucky to have you.” She gives you one of her smiles and nods, goes to turn. “You should go see Jack. Before you sit down.” Dana’s eyebrows furrow as she turns back to look at you. “Promise me you’ll go.” Her eyes narrow in suspicion a little but she nods and walks out. 

She knocks when she reaches Jack’s room. “There you are.” Robby smiles at her as he opens the door. “You look very lovely.”

Dana gives him a suspicious look. “Thanks. You don’t clean up top bad yourself Cap. Is there a reason I’m here?”

Robby nods and she walks in the room. “He’ll explain. I’ll see you out there.” He gives her a last smile before exiting the room, the door closing behind him. 

“Jack?” Dana calls out as she moves further in the room. He smiles at her as he walks out from the bathroom, fully dressed and ready. “Wow,” Dana lets out a low whistle. “Aren’t you a sight?” She walks over to him and gives him a hug, a kiss on the cheek. 

“You look pretty damn good yourself,” Jack tells her.

She waves him off. “You look very handsome. She’s gonna cry. And you’re definitely gonna cry when you see her.” She rubs in that she’s seen you just a little, earns the smallest eye roll from Jack. “You need something? Your bride got all mysterious on me, ‘promise me you’ll go see Jack’ and then Robby answers the door grinning like an idiot and offering no explanations.”

Jack shrugs at her, smiling like he knows something she doesn’t and that’s going to make her react. “I need someone to walk me down the aisle.” 

Dana’s head lolls forward a little, eyebrows raising as she stares at Jack. “I thought you guys weren’t doing that.”

Jack shakes his head. “She decided not to have anyone walk her down the aisle. I never decided I wouldn’t have anyone.” Dana’s still looking at him in disbelief. “I want someone to. And who better to do so than the second most important woman in my life?” Dana’s eyes get watery and she cocks her head at Jack, silent because she’ll cry if she tries to speak. “You know I mean that and that it’s true,” Jack tells her softly. 

Dana nods at him. “Jack, I…” She fans at her face and grabs a tissue from the nearby box, dabs at her eyes. “You’re pretty important to me too, you know that?” She whispers as she wraps him in another hug. He laughs softly and nods. “I’m so happy for you Jack. For both of you. She’s everything you’ve ever deserved. I’m so glad you found your one.” Dana sniffles and finishes wiping at her eyes. “I’d be very proud to walk you down the aisle.” 

Jack offers Dana his arm and she takes it, the two of them leaving the room and heading to the ceremony space. Robby is waiting for them in the staging space that’s hidden off to the side of the top of the aisle. The three share a look and Robby cues who he needs to so that the music starts. 

Robby walks down first, takes his place at the top of the altar facing the audience, padfolio with his notes in hand. The music changes slightly and Dana and Jack start walking down the aisle. The change in the music is also your cue to wait ten seconds or so and then go to the staging area yourself and wait for your music to hit. 

There are murmurs of approval and appreciation and hums of aw as Dana and Jack walk down the aisle. The only people who have seen Jack in his dress blues before are those who were in his unit. For everyone else, your friends, all of the Pitt family, it’s the first time. He looks good in them, of that there is no question. 

When they hit the end of the aisle Dana rests her cheek against Jack’s and gives him a little cheek kiss as they hug again. “I’m so proud of you Jack. And so, so happy for you,” she whispers to him. “You deserve this, yeah. The both of you do.” 

“Thank you, Dana.” Jack rubs her back a little. “You have no idea how much we appreciate you and everything you’ve done for us. And for me over the years.” 

She nods at him as she pulls away and takes her seat right on the aisle of one side of the front row. Jack walks up the altar and shares a handshake and quick hug with Robby before he settles just in front of him, turning to face the top of the aisle. 

Jack looks around at everyone who came. The ceremony space is completely full. It’s small, but big enough, an intimate ceremony of just you and your closest friends and family. Neither of you wanted something huge. All of Jack’s unit minus one are there with their significant others if they have one, your friend and a few of your closest work friends and what feels like most of the Pitt and their significant others where applicable, plus Dana’s kids, Langdon’s kids, Harrison, Becca and Jake. 

In his mind he notes that it feels like entire damn department is here and he can’t help but wonder who the fuck is staffing it right now. Jack is actually able to smile to himself at the thought despite the small pang. He thought the same exact thing to himself in that nightmare. But this time while it still doesn’t really matter and he doesn’t really care because he’s here with you getting married, he will be going back to that hospital. He lets himself wonder about it more, wonder if Robby somehow pulled off getting nearly an entire moonlighter crew so everyone could be here. 

Jack can’t believe it’s finally time, that he finally gets to see you in your wedding dress and marry you. His heart races and he breathes a little faster and harder in anticipation. He’s sure that if he didn’t have one hand clasping the back of the other and hanging down in front of him they’d be shaking.  

Your photographers get into position so that photos can be captured of both you and Jack seeing each other for the first time. They stay as inconspicuous and as out of the way as possible. 

In the staging area at the top of the aisle your heart is racing just as fast as Jack’s if not a little faster because you still have to walk down the aisle, by yourself, with all eyes on you and not trip or fall or otherwise stumble. And you can’t help the thought of what if he hates my dress from running around your brain. Your bouquet shakes as you hold it with one hand, smooth out your dress with the other as you wait for the music. 

You force yourself to take a couple of deep breaths and pull it together. You know really the anxiety is more eagerness than anything. You just want to be married already, want to be kissing Jack and in his arms and crying about how much you love him. You can’t believe the day is finally here. You remember you get to see him in his dress blues for the first time now and it helps you focus and smile.

The music you’ve chosen to walk down the aisle to starts and you hear Robby ask everyone to stand. You hold your bouquet with both hands low in front of you and take in one last deep breath before you round the corner and hit the top of the aisle. 

Seeing each other for the first time is quickly etched into your memories. Neither of you will ever forget the moment, forget the way you struggled to breathe for a second or how everything and everyone else seemed to fade away. 

Jack’s breath catches in his throat when he sees you, a beaming smile pulling on his face and tears hitting him immediately. “Oh my god,” he breathes out quietly for only Robby to hear as he shakes his head at you a little in disbelief, his first tears of the ceremony starting to stream down his face. 

While everyone is looking at you Jack brings a hand up to his heart and lays it flat over it for a second before closing it into a fist and nodding at you a little. He grabs one of the handkerchiefs from his pocket to wipe at his tears as Robby squeezes his shoulder silently. 

Jack tried to imagine your dress, what it would look like, what you would look like in it and he never got anywhere close. You look perfect in it, more beautiful and stunning than Jack could have ever hoped to imagine. Your dress fits you perfectly, both in fit and in personality. It matches you, your personality and energy, complements your natural beauty without overtaking you. The dress, while gorgeous, isn’t the focus. The focus is you, just as it should be, he thinks. 

You’re a vision as you walk towards him, radiant and ethereal and breathtaking. And somehow you’re his. His girl, his woman. You’re about to be his wife and Jack doesn’t know how he got so fucking lucky. He sniffles as more tears fall that he was to wipe away. 

You have to remind yourself to breathe as you start walking, because Jack steals all the air from you as soon as you look at him. Your eyes glance at the path in front of you and then back to him because you just can’t look anywhere else. You suddenly don’t care if you trip or stumble or fall because you weren’t looking where you were walking, taking in Jack, looking at him and returning his gaze is worth the risk. You return his beaming smile, your eyes tearing up just as his do. 

He’s so handsome. He always is but him in his dress blues on your wedding day is a different type of handsome. He almost looks regal in a sense with how perfectly they fit him and how sharply pressed they are, highlighting his chiseled features. He’s breathtaking, truly. And somehow he’s yours. Your man, your Jack. He’s about to be your husband. The thought makes you laugh to yourself a little as your first tears of the ceremony spill over and onto your cheeks. 

Jack looks at you like you’re the last sight he ever needs to see to die a happy man as you walk towards him, like you’re the only thing that exists in the world right now and the most precious and beautiful thing that exists. Because you are. And you look at him the exact same way, like you’re walking towards your future and the only thing that matters. Because he is. 

The two of you beam at each other even harder as you walk closer and closer to him. Your eyes roam each other more the closer you get, just for a few seconds to take in more details before you look back into the other’s eyes. 

As you reach the end of the aisle you slip your bouquet to Dana and take the hand Jack offers you. “Please be seated.” Robby nods at the audience. 

“Worth the wait I hope?” you whisper to Jack as you stand across from him and face him, voice trembling and more tears sliding down your face.

“You’re,” Jack shakes his head, struggling to come up with any words that could even begin to describe how stunning you look right now. He has to settle for simple. “You’re beautiful, Doll.” You know what he means, know that beautiful means what it always does but that there’s an extra indescribable edge to it right now. You know because it’s how you feel about him. “Gorgeous. There aren’t words,” he whispers to you. 

“That’s how I feel, there aren’t words for you either.” The smile you give him is a little trembly as a fresh wave of overwhelming love hits you. “You’re so handsome, Jack. Unfairly so.” And just like beautiful, handsome also has that edge that Jack recognizes. 

He laughs a little and then Jack can’t help himself. He captures your chin with his thumb and index finger and leans in, steals a kiss from you. It’s your last kiss before you’re married.

“You skipped a couple of steps there, brother,” Robby teases Jack as the two of you settle back in your respective positions facing each other, eliciting a soft laugh from the audience. 

You hold one of Jack’s hands and use the other to wipe at the tears on your face, a mix of yours and Jack’s now. Jack drops your hand for a moment to switch his handkerchief to his other hand so he can reach into his pocket and pull out the second handkerchief. 

It makes you laugh when you take it from him, more tears slip down your face. “Always so prepared.”

“I try.” He smiles at you and wipes away more of his own tears as you do the same before you grab each other’s hands again, one pair of hands less held than the other as you both hang onto handkerchiefs. 

You both know there’s going to be a lot of tears during this ceremony for the two of you and that getting your vows out is going to be difficult. Everyone knows it. Because it’s not just that this is your wedding and you’re so in love and finally getting married. It’s because it almost didn’t happen. Because you’re both so acutely aware of how precious time and your love is. Because Jack was almost planning your funeral and not helping you plan your wedding.  

“Are we all ready now?” Robby smiles, asking not just you and Jack but also your guests. It pulls laughs, and excited calls of yes and it’s about time and finally. It’s perfect, it’s the atmosphere you and Jack wanted. You didn’t want stuffy or overly formal. You wanted it to reflect the two of you and Robby’s question has set the perfect tone. 

“More than,” you laugh softly, squeezing Jack’s hands. 

“More than,” Jack agrees, beaming at you and laughing a little as he returns your squeeze. 

“Great! Well, welcome everybody to what I know will be an emotional but incredibly joyous and fun wedding. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Robby, or Michael, when Jack is mad at me, and I’m their favorite third wheel.” Robby gives a self-satisfied smile as he says it, and you, Jack and the audience all laugh. It’s true. 

“Their love story has not been the easiest. Before they were even engaged they faced challenges most couples, married or otherwise, never have to. And hopefully they’ll never have to again. I also want to say quickly that I got their permission to talk about what happened. I'm not just up here bringing up one of the most traumatic and difficult times of both of their lives individually and their life as a couple.” There’s more laughter from everyone at that. 

As much as you and Jack truly are paying attention to what Robby says, your eyes aren’t coming off one another. For the most part it’s all eye contact, just how Jack loves, but sometimes you both let your eyes wander to take in the other more, you eyes dragging down Jack to appreciate him in his dress blues again and his roaming you to take in you in your dress and every detail of it. 

“God knows they’ve had too much practice but something that stands out about their love to me is their ability to weather their worst days together. It’s one thing to stand next to each other and survive on the best days, when things are great and easy and another to stand next to each other and survive on the worst days, when things truly probably couldn’t get any worse and qualify as one of the worst days of their lives. And I truly mean weathering their worst days together because they’re always there for each other.” Robby takes a moment to let the words linger and glances down at his notes. 

“People say that relationships and love aren’t always 50-50. That sometimes one person is at 10% and so, in the best relationships, the other is at 90%. And that’s them.” He nods as he says it and there’s a few murmurs of agreement from the audience.

“They have this constant give and take, this way of adapting for the other. And if one of them is at 10% and the other falls even lower, to 5%, they’re both able to set their struggle aside for the moment and immediately be at 95% for the other. They never let the other be alone in their struggles or in their joy.” Robby pauses for a second, has to clear his throat, the emotion clearly starting to get to him. “It’s quite incredible to watch.”

Robby shifts his attention to address you and Jack directly. “I am so incredibly happy for the both of you. I have never met two individuals who deserve this happiness and love and life together more. I love you both very much,” his voice trembles a little as he says it, “and I wish you nothing but a lifetime of adventure, laughter, peace, joy and love.” 

You both look up at Robby as he says it. His eyes are glassy, and wet with unshed tears that are threatening to spill over. Jack nods at him, the two sharing a knowing smile. When Robby’s attention shifts to you, you mouth ‘we love you too’ and a few of those unshed tears slip down his cheeks.  

“I’m going to share two moments, my favorite moment that I’ve had with each of you that’s really kind of about the other one of you and then I’ll move this along, I promise.” Robby sniffles, wipes quickly at his eyes and takes a deep breath. You and Jack look back at each other and raise your eyebrows as you both grin in anticipation. You both correctly know you’re about to hear a story you’ve never heard before.

“I’ll start with you Jack. Years ago now, there was a really bad day at work and you and I were walking out into the darkness. You said something about preferring working nights and I asked if you were sick of working them yet and you said that your therapist thought you found comfort in the darkness.” You laugh softly at that, as does the audience. It sounds like Jack. 

“So fast forward two years and we’re walking out of the Pitt together one day as you’re getting off, you know actually it must have been three years and four or five days ago because it was a couple of days before your first anniversary. I asked you if you could cover a shift, fully expecting a yes. I was asking but I was so positive you’d say yes because you’re Jack and you always said yes to working. But you said no.” Robby pulls his mouth together in a grimace and nods at the audience to pull a few laughs. 

“No because it was your first anniversary together. And then,” Robby laughs to himself a little and cocks his head for a second, “like you’re just saying the sky is blue and not about to rock my entire world you said, ‘also, I’m switching to days, it’s better for us.’ I was honestly impressed with myself that I processed that news fast enough to call out a question to you before you were too far away to hear. I yelled at you, ‘I thought you found comfort in the darkness?’ and you turned around and looked at your phone which was definitely a photo of you by that point and smiled as you yelled back ‘guess I find it somewhere else now.’” A soft chorus of ‘aww’ rings through the audience. 

You tilt your head at Jack, chin trembling as your lips press together in a tight smile as you try and keep it together, silently asking him ‘really’ as your eyebrows draw together. Jack’s smile softens, eyes looking at you fondly, almost nostalgically and he squeezes your hands. He gives you a few small nods and your tears return.

“And I knew as I walked back into the Pitt, yes to go straight to Dana to tell her,” everyone laughs loudly at that, including you, Jack and Robby, “that even if you hadn’t told me yet, you were already planning a proposal. Sure enough, a couple of days later you told me you were going to propose, not sure when or how or where yet, but she’s it. She’s the one. ��She’s my forever,’ I believe are the exact words.”

“Oh Jack,” you whisper just loud enough for him and him alone to hear, more tears falling. You wish that you could hug and kiss him and thank him for making you feel so loved all the time. Because he does and in the moment, hearing that story it’s overwhelming. You’re not sure how you’ll survive his vows. Your hands squeeze his before you drop one and use the handkerchief he gave you to dab at your eyes again and blot up the tears that have already wet your face. Jack remembers that conversation well, remembers how that smile at the end that Robby mentioned lasted his entire walk home. And somehow, he realizes, he loves you even more in this moment than he did then. 

Robby glances at you with a little conspiratorial smile. “And you. Just under two years ago, you and I were sitting in your hospital room talking. It was truly just you and I because Jack was showering. You’d been out of your coma for just shy of two days so we’d really known each other and had the opportunity to talk for five-ish days or so I wanna say. So we’re talking and you ask me to go to the grocery store for you. I said ‘sure of course, just make me a list.’” Robby nods a little as he remembers while he speaks.

“I give you my little notepad and a pen and it took you maybe five minutes to write down this fairly long grocery list. I remember thinking it was great that you had all these things you wanted and had an appetite and us having a battle about me taking your card to pay for things but anyway I take the list and after my shift I go, don’t think much of it.” He shrugs, glances at you and then the audience. You already know what’s coming and you know that you never told Jack.  

“I get to the store and start shopping and realize two things. First, that the list isn’t quite as long as I initially thought because you’d written brand names and specific flavors for things. And second,” he pauses to laugh a little, “every single thing on that list was one of Jack’s favorite things. Every single thing, I swear to god.”

Robby’s nodding at Jack, not that Jack sees it. He’s far too focused on you, asking you a ‘really’ with his eyes the same way you did, tears threatening to wet his face and a wobbly smile. And just like him you give him a few nods, squeeze his hands. 

“So I call you and you answer and said ‘hey if you’re looking for Jack he’s down getting the dinner delivery he ordered so he might not be able to answer.’ And I’m like ‘no I’m looking for you. I’m at the store and this list is all for Jack. Is there anything you want?’ You tell me ‘No, I put what matters and what we need on it.’” Robby glances at you, smiles at the way you’re looking at Jack.   

“I press you, ‘okay but are you sure?’ You said ‘Robby, please. He’s not eating enough here and it’s not healthy for him. He can’t eat big meals right now, he just picks at everything and you and I both know him and know he’s a snacker, a grazer. But he doesn’t have any snacks here. So he’s not really eating. Please. The list is what we need. What I need.’” 

Jack’s hands squeeze yours again, harder this time as ‘what I need’ echoes in his mind and tears slide down his face. You were focused on him during that time, you were watching him and taking care of him without him knowing it. It’s so you and he could almost drown in it, your love for him. “Doll,” it’s whispered, barely audible to you with how his voice cracks over it, hand dropping yours to wipe away his tears. Your heart aches in the moment from how much you love him. Like Jack you remember this story fairly well despite your health status at the time because it was the first super personal conversation you had with Robby. You can remember the genuine anxiety you had at the time because Jack wasn’t eating enough and it scared you. And also like Jack, somehow, you realize, you love him even more in this moment than you did then. 

“We hung up and it really sank in as I walked around shopping. You were just shot, had multiple major surgeries, a skull fracture, you had been out of a coma for less than 48 hours and you’re worried about Jack.” Robby shakes his head and lets out a small incredulous laugh. “You’re noticing Jack not eating enough and that he’s not eating big meals and remembering that he’s a snacker. You’re still pretty heavily medicated and you’re pulling out brand names and flavors of Jack’s favorite things. That’s when I knew if he asked you’d say yes and, selfishly in a way, it’s when I was convinced that you were the one for him and when I knew I wanted him to ask you.” All three of you, and probably close to the whole damn audience, have to take a second to clean up your tears.

“And so here we are today. At your wedding. You were two strangers in a bookstore. There was nothing between you. But from that nothing you slowly forged what has to be the most beautiful and profound love I’ve ever had the privilege of witnessing.” Robby’s voice wobbles and he pauses for a second, lets out a breath. 

“These two have decided to write their own vows, so get your tissues ready, I’m sure.” After deciding on personal vows you and Jack had decided to end them with five promises to each other. “Jack, we’ll start with you.”

Jack takes in a deep breath and drops one of your hands so that he can grab his vows from his pocket. 

He starts with your name, squeezing your hand that he’s still holding. “I’m going to start with some honesty,” he gives you a little smile. “I struggled to write these. Not because I couldn’t think of what to say but because there’s too much to say, there’s too much I want to tell you and promise you, too much you deserve to hear. And I could stand here and talk for hours and say all the words and it would never be enough to tell you how much I love you, how deep my love for you runs or how embedded in my soul you, and my love for you and your love for me is.” You start to cry because you know how much he means it and because you get it, feel the exact same way. 

“Doll, you are easily the biggest overthinker I know,” he laughs a little as he says it, smiling at you while you and the audience also laugh. He glances down at his vows before looking into your eyes again. He did his best to memorize them so that he can look you in your eyes as he speaks his vows to you. “And I say that with all the love in the world, I truly do, because I know it means that you have thought of every single reason not to love me or marry me and yet here you are. Loving me. Marrying me. You jumped head first and with your eyes wide open into loving me and you’ll never know what it means to me to have that kind of pure acceptance,” Jack’s voice trembles, “and to know that you’ve seen every bad part of me, every flaw and imperfection and have overthought it all and that you,” he has to stop as his voice breaks and he sucks in a shuddery breath to stifle the smallest sob. He just barely clears his throat, like he knows that he’s going to have to choke out his next line and pause after it regardless of how much he tries to prepare now. “And that you accept it all and choose to love me despite all my flaws and imperfections.” It almost sounds whispered with how raw and hoarse his voice is as he says it, but everyone hears it. Jack sniffles, drops your hand and takes a few seconds to wipe the tears from his face and collect himself before taking your hand again and continuing.

“You truly have no idea just how much you save me every day, heal a little piece of me with every smile and kiss and ‘Peter.’ You’re my comfort,” he tilts his head and gives you a lopsided grin that meets his eyes hard as he echoes what he told Robby two years ago, this time straight to you with tears flowing down both of your cheeks, “my salvation and my strength. You’re my home and my world. I told you once that you’re my best everything and I mean it. You are my best everything. You are the greatest and best part of me. I love you more than I know what to do with or how to show you.” You dab at your eyes almost continuously with your free hand, Jack’s words searing themselves into your brain and heart, especially with how he’s looking straight into your soul through your eyes as he talks to you. 

“And of all the things I might accomplish in this life,” Jack sniffles and clears his throat so his voice is a little stronger again, “the only thing I care to be remembered for is being your husband and being lucky enough to love you and be loved by you.” You cover your mouth with your handkerchief at that and stifle your own small sob while you squeeze Jack’s hand, hoping he understands that you’re saying the same is true for you. He knows. He always knows. 

Jack glances down at his vows again and straight back up to you. “So I promise to be honest, to be loyal and faithful and always have your back as your biggest supporter and your greatest source of encouragement. I promise I will always be here for you, that I will always be your refuge. I promise to always fight for you and for us. I promise to never take you or your love for granted and to always remember just how lucky I am to be able to call you mine.” He pauses to smile at you, tilt his head and squeeze your hand to emphasize the last one before he says it. “And I promise to love you with all of me through anything and everything life might throw our way.” 

It’s hard to resist the urge you have to hug him and kiss him and hold him close for five minutes straight while you both just cry tears of love and happiness into each other. Because you want to. You’ve never felt more loved or moved in your life. It’s almost difficult to comprehend in a way, that those words were just spoken by the love of your life to you. That someone feels that way about you and loves you this much. You’re not sure you deserve it but you take it in as best you can while he puts his vows away and wipes at his face. And Jack feels it too, that urge to hug you and kiss you and try to show you how much he loves you because he knows his words, while clearly impactful, fell far short of expressing his love for you. Like he said, he could never truly tell you what you mean to him and how much he loves you because the words don’t exist.

It’s quiet once Jack finishes, only sniffles from everyone present filling the air for a moment. Robby reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, your vows that you’d given him to hold onto for you this morning. “And now you,” he says softly, giving you a supportive nod as the two of you share a look while you take your vows from him. 

“Oh man, this feels so unfair, I can barely see through the tears.” You sniffle a soft laugh the audience joins you in, handkerchief at your eyes trying to soak up all the tears. You take in a deep breath before opening your folded vows and looking back up into Jack’s eyes. “Jack,” you start, “I love you.” You let out a small laugh because it’s such a simple way to open, glance down at your vows. Like Jack you’d memorized them to the best of your ability so you can look him in the eyes.  

“I swear this next part is written down,” you wave your vows at him and then the audience. “Writing these was much harder than I thought it was going to be,” you tilt your head and give him a look, “not because I couldn’t think of anything to say to you but because what do you tell the person that’s everything to you? I couldn’t figure out how to distill how I feel about you and how much I love you into words, and I still haven’t because nothing I say will ever be enough to even scratch the surface of how much I love you and what you mean to me.” Your voice catches thick in your throat as you shake your head a little at him while you speak, eyes narrowing slightly to emphasize your words.

“The thing about you Peter, is that you see me, all of me, to an extent I didn’t think was possible. You always use that x-ray vision they pulled you aside to teach you in your last year of med school,” you laugh a little as you say it and Jack lets out a short but proper laugh at your words because they’re unexpected and of course you would remember that, “to see right through me and know how I’m feeling and what I’m thinking. There is nothing that makes me feel more loved than when you take a single look at me and know exactly what I need without me speaking a single word. And when we’re together that’s an hourly occurrence.” You blot at your eyes again quickly and glance at your vows before finding Jack’s eyes again and continuing.

“You take what you see and you use it. Use it to love me and take care of me and heal me, even if you don’t consciously realize it. I’ve come to realize that you know me better than myself because you see me more than I see myself. And you always, without fail, see the best in me even when I show you the worst of me.” You take in a deep, shuddery breath as you struggle to keep your voice steady. “I am quite sure that has to be love in one of its simplest and purest forms. And that’s how you love me. I couldn’t be luckier.” Your voice is so thick and heavy with your tears you worry that you’re getting to be unintelligible but Jack’s reaction, the fast run of big tears and his trembling lip, and the increase in sniffles you hear from the audience make it clear everyone heard. 

Your gaze intensifies, eyes boring into Jack’s. “You’re my whole world and my entire heart. My rock and my constant. My biggest supporter and my protector. You’re everything. You are my everything and everything to me, Jack.” Your voice breaks on his name but you don’t clear your throat. You let it be raw and higher pitched as you finish. “Please never forget that.” Jack shakes his head slightly and squeezes your hand to tell you that he won’t and lets out the quietest choked sob, handkerchief damp with his tears just like yours with yours. His heart aches now with your love for him.

You clear your throat, take another shuddery deep breath and collect yourself. “I promise to always be your best student in medicine and otherwise, to never stop learning about you or how best to love you. I promise to never stop trying, to never give up on you or on us. I promise you my faithfulness, my honesty and my loyalty and my unwavering support in everything and to always be your safe space where you never have to hide. I promise to love you all the time, especially in the moments you’re struggling to love yourself. And I promise to never stop falling more in love with you.” 

Again, Jack fights the urge to hug and kiss and be close to you that you both fought after he made his vows to you. He’s never felt more loved, never felt so good. He struggles to comprehend it too, that someone loves him as much as you do, needs him the way you do. But you do and he knows it and he beams at you as you both wipe your tears. He takes your vows from you and folds them, slips them in his pocket next to his. You squeeze each other’s hand again, and you do your best to let it take the place of the hug and kiss you’re desperate to give him. You know you have a whole life to hug and kiss him as you please and that you’re going to feel this same overwhelming love in both directions in a few minutes when Robby says you can finally kiss. In this moment you just hope Jack has a fraction of a clue of how much you love him and need him and looking at him and seeing how he looks at you, you’re pretty sure he does.

“Well,” Robby says quietly. “I think we all need a moment after those.” Sniffled laughter rings out from the audience as Robby does give everyone a moment to dry their eyes and collect themselves. Even you and Jack both manage to get your tears to stop, if only for a little. “I’ll now ask you both to affirm your vows and declare your intent.” 

Robby turns to Jack first. “Jack, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” Jack’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists as he says the words clear and strong, not a hint of hesitation to be found anywhere. 

“And do you,” Robby’s attention turns to you as he says your name, “take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” You beam at Jack as you say it and you’ve never exuded such confidence. You say it like it’s the easiest and simplest thing in the world.

“And now for the exchange of rings.” Robby’s voice is a little shaky. He grabs them both out of his breast pocket. “Very beautiful rings at that.” He says, sniffling and clearing his throat, a low hum of laughter sounding at his attempt to hide his emotions. He holds them in his palm in front of you and Jack, the padfolio with his notes in his other hand. 

Robby takes in a deep breath. “Your rings symbolize your love for one another. Love freely given and chosen every day with no beginning or end and with no true giver or receiver as you both give and receive equally, unbroken and infinite and yours alone. When you look at your rings be reminded of this moment, of the vows you’ve made to each other today, and of your unending and ever growing love for each other.” 

He offers his palm to Jack who picks up your ring. You raise your left hand and spread your fingers so Jack can hover your wedding ring at the start of your ring finger. Your hand shakes, no matter how hard try to keep it still the excitement and disbelief and joy and love win and it keeps shaking. Jack supports your hand with his free one, has it upturned, fingers resting against your palm and the length of your fingers, thumb wrapping gently over the side of your hand and resting on the back of it. Jack’s eyes return to yours and with it the intense eye contact you share, have been sharing most of your time up here. His eyes are glassy as he smiles at you. But you catch the slight tremble of his lips. 

“Jack, repeat after me. I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.”

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.” Jack’s eyes grow glassier as more tears form.  

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.”

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.” A few tears slide down Jack’s cheeks, his voice breaking around ‘always.’ You reach out with your right hand instinctively and use your handkerchief to blot some of his tears from his face making him laugh a little. From his face your hand goes to your own where tears have started to fall. 

“And with this ring, I marry you and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.”

“And with this ring,” Jack has to pause for a second to collect himself and clear his throat, “I marry you and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.” He’s smiling at you as he says it, tears still wetting his face as he breaks eye contact with you to watch as he slides your wedding ring all the way onto your finger. 

You watch as he does too, wear the biggest grin when you look back up at each other. You widen your eyes at him in a silent oh my god I have a wedding ring, we just did that. 

Robby holds his palm out for you and you take Jack’s wedding ring. Jack holds his left hand out and spreads his fingers just like you did. And his hand shakes just as badly as yours did as you hover his wedding ring at the start of his finger. Your free hand comes to support his left as he did for you. 

Robby glances at you. “Repeat after me. I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.”

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness and my undying devotion.” You press your lips together hard but they pull upward in a smile, tears still flowing from listening to Jack declare the same thing to you and trying to prevent the emotion from fully clouding your voice this early.

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.”

“Let it remind you that no matter where I may be, I am always with you in your heart.” You make it just a little further than Jack, the tears slipping into your voice and making it break at ‘in.’ 

Neither you nor Jack really stopped crying since you started again when Jack gave you your ring, nor have either of you stopped smiling through your tears. So, like you, Jack uses his handkerchief to wipe away some of your tears before doing the same for himself and his own. He’s careful too, dabbing like he’s observed you doing so that he doesn’t smear your makeup. You fight the urge his care and attention gives you to cry a little harder. 

“And with this ring, I marry you and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.”

“And with this ring, I marry you,” you pause to sniffle, try and steady your voice in vain, “and pledge to honor the vows we have exchanged today, to choose you every day and to love you with all that I am and all that I will ever be.” You have to break eye contact again so you can both watch as you slide his wedding band all the way onto his finger. Once it’s on you both watch as Jack closes his hand into a fist and reopens it as he gets used to having a ring. 

You’re both wide eyed as you hold hands again and slowly look back up at each other, almost in disbelief because this is it. You both have rings, have made vows and declared your intent. Robby is about to say it. Grins pull up onto your face, breaking quickly into huge beaming smiles. You’re both so overwhelmed with love in the moment, tears flow a little harder and you both giggle softly.

“And now by the very limited authority vested in me,” Robby nods at you and Jack and grabs both of your handkerchiefs from you, not that either of you see him or do much more than release them when you feel him pull, still focused on each other, still beaming so hard your cheeks hurt, “I pronounce you husband and wife. May your first act of marriage be one of love. You may now kiss for the first time as husband and wife.” As soon as he’s done speaking, Robby moves off the altar to the side so that it’ll just be you and Jack in photos, your friends and family cheering and clapping loudly for you, a couple of people whistling. 

Without hesitation you and Jack move in synchrony, both of you taking a half step towards the other to close the small distance between you, your bodies pressing against one another. Jack brings his hands up to your face, his thumbs resting gently above your jawline as his other fingers hold your neck. Your hands find the sides of his upper arms and wrap around them as much as possible. You both somehow smile a little bigger as you keep looking each other in the eyes for a second, your hands. Your heads tilt in opposite directions automatically as you lean in and kiss for the first time as a married couple. 

The kiss is perfect. Short and chaste but so much more than enough to at least begin to convey all the emotions both of you are feeling, the excitement and disbelief and joy and overwhelming love. There’s so much love in the kiss it almost makes both of you dizzy. It lingers just long enough but not too long. When it ends you steal another couple quickly. “I love you,” you giggle against Jack’s lips. 

“I love you too,” Jack chuckles a little.

Your arms wrap around Jack’s neck, one hand staying to hold the side of his face as his hands are moving so that one arm wraps around you, hand splaying against your back as his other hand grips your waist. He pulls you tight against him and then tucks you under him as he spins you a little and smoothly dips you as he kisses you again, just like he did when you first visited and selected the venue. You finish one kiss and smile against each other’s lips for a second before you kiss again and Jack returns you upright just as smoothly as he dipped you.  

When you’re standing again you and Jack pull apart, and the audience quiets just enough as Robby steps back onto the altar so that he can introduce you. “Family and friends, I’m honored and thrilled to introduce to you for the first time the Abbots!”

You’re sure you must grin like a love-drunk idiot when Robby calls you the Abbots but you genuinely couldn’t stop it if you tried. You’re truly just that happy. And Jack’s smiling just as hard at you as he laces your hand with his and you both turn towards the audience. You grab your bouquet from Dana in your other hand and exchange smiles with her before turning back to Jack to share a glance and make your way back up the aisle, smiling and thanking your friends and family who are clapping for you once again as you do.��

You and Jack walk hand in hand to the small room you’ve set aside to have thirty minutes with each other before you take photos while your guests enjoy cocktail hour. Your makeup artist has already graciously left you some redness clearing eyedrops and the caterer dropped off some appetizers for the two of you to enjoy. You figured it was a good way to give your eyes a chance to recover from crying even though your photographer can edit them out and to get some food because you’ve been told it gets hectic and the bride and groom often don’t get to eat much. But more than anything it’s just thirty minutes alone together as husband and wife. 

Once you’re both in the room with the door locked you can finally give into the urges to be close and hold each other that you were both fighting the entire ceremony. 

Your arms slide around Jack’s neck as his slide around your back, pulling you as close to him as he can get while still being able to kiss you. Because kiss you Jack does. He starts fairly chaste, more a series of kisses than anything but they grow more fervent, his tongue flicking across your bottom lip to coax your mouth open for him. When you do he’s quick to lick into your mouth, groaning at the taste of you. He lets you into his mouth when your tongue seeks it out, sucks slightly to pull another pretty moan from you, a small groan escaping him when you nip at his bottom lip and suck at it before letting him dive back into you.

You finally break apart when you’re no longer able to get enough oxygen in through your nose alone. You rest your foreheads together for a second before you move you to have your face nuzzling against his neck so that your chests can be pressed against each other more as you hold each other. 

“I wanted to do this so bad during the ceremony,” you murmur. “Just hug and hold you and be hugged and held by you. I just wanted to be close after everything that we said.” 

Jack squeezes you tighter, rocks you both a little. “I did too Doll, believe me.”

The two of you stand there holding each other and relishing in your closeness for what has to be five minutes. You’re both silent save the occasional soft hum at the right touch. You’re silent but you’re still talking to each other with your hands, where they wander and rub and squeeze. Both of you are reflecting on what you said to each other at the ceremony, what was said to you by the other, observations Robby made. It’s hard to believe it’s real. You made it here together and are now standing holding each other as husband and wife. 

Jack takes great care not to mess up your hair as he lets one of his hands find the back of your neck and pulls your face from him gently. “Let me really look at you and your dress now, yeah?” he murmurs as his eyes find yours before you can whine about being pulled away from him. 

“Only if I can also really look at you.” You smile and are already releasing him and stepping back for him as you say it. You know he’ll let you. He won’t understand why you want to, but he’ll let you. 

“Course,” he whispers distractedly as he takes his own step back and starts really taking in your dress, taking in every detail and walking around you to see the entire thing. The same feelings and thoughts as when he saw you for the first time rush through him. “Doll,” he breathes out once he’s in front of you again, “you are truly stunning. You always are but this, you in your wedding dress, fuck, it’s something else.” He looks you in the eyes as he says it but once he finishes they quickly drop again, sweeping over your dress and back up to your eyes. “There really aren’t words.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, awkward at accepting compliments, even from him. But you don’t need to say more, Jack knows. He knows what his words mean to you and how they make you feel. “Let me see you, please.” Jack nods and your eyes rake over his body. He turns for you slowly, lets you take him in. “You are so unfairly handsome, Jack, I don’t know how I got so lucky.” Like with him, your feelings and thoughts when you saw him the first time hit you all over again. “Always are, but this,” you let out a soft laugh and shake your head slightly, “like you said, it’s something else. No words.”

A light flush hits Jack’s neck and cheeks. He struggles accepting compliments at times just like you. “Thank you.” He doesn’t need to say more either, and you share another kiss and wrap each other in a tight hug again, communicating so much with every touch. You stay wrapped in each other like that for at least a minute if not a little longer. 

“Wanna sit? Have some food?” Jack finally murmurs. He would stand here holding you forever if you asked. Happily.

You nod, take his hand as he releases you and guides you over to the couch, food on the table in front of it, along with the eyedrops. “Here.” You grab the eyedrops and a tissue, put a couple drops in each eye. “To help with the redness.”

“You really thought of everything didn’t you?” Jack grabs them from you and then the tissue, puts a few in each eye and uses the tissue to catch anything that falls over. 

“Makeup artist,” you admit. “She was on it.” 

“She was,” Jack murmurs. “Even though you don’t need it in the slightest, your makeup does look exceptional.” He leans in for a quick kiss before turning to pull the table the food is on closer to the couch.

“Wait! Before we eat, move my engagement ring back!” You hold out both hands. 

He chuckles a little at your excitement. You could easily move it back yourself but you want him to and it’s adorable. “Alright, Doll.” Jack smiles at you as he slides your engagement ring off your right hand and brings it over a little and slides it right back down your left ring finger until it sits atop your wedding band perfectly. He brings your hand up and kisses your rings before he lets go of your hand. “Perfect.”

You giggle a little as you look down at your left hand and wiggle your finger a little to watch all the diamonds catch the light. Jack smiles as he watches you, drinks you in and tries to memorize the moment and how happy and gorgeous you look. “Hey, guess what?” You look back up at him.

“What?”

You shift a little closer to him and place your hands on his chest. “You’re my husband now,” you slide your hands up his neck to hold his face, “and I’m your wife.”

Jack’s eyes darken, jaw tensing and breathing picking up just slightly. His hands wrap over yours where they rest against his face and neck. “My wife,” he breathes out. 

His lips are on yours, all consuming from the get go, no soft lead-up like he usually does. His kisses are insistent, tongue tasting you again and pulling a little moan from the back of your throat. The sound spurs him on, Jack’s hands moving, arms wrapping around you as he leans you back onto the couch, one hand supporting your neck and helping you keep it up enough so that your hair is protected as your head almost lays against the armrest of the couch. It’s an awkward position with your legs still over the edge of the couch but neither of you care or even particularly notice, getting lost in each other, heavy exhales through your noises and sloppy kissing sounds filling the room.  

“Jack.” You try to say his name as a warning but it comes out far too breathy to be remotely effective. He doesn’t like that you’ve pulled away, his lips chasing yours as he makes a noise of discontent. “You really want our first time as husband and wife to be a quickie in a random room?”

“I mean…it’s a nice couch,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Jack.” Your hands push at his chest a little so that he’ll look at you. 

“No, no, I know you’re right, I just.” He groans and rests his forehead against your chest for a second before looking back up at you and helping you sit back upright.  “I just want you. Really bad. My wife.”

“I know.” You give him a soft smile and kiss on the cheek. “And please don’t think I don’t want you. I do. Just as badly as you want me.”

“No, I know, I don’t think that,” he assures you. “You’re right. I want to be able to go slow and take my wife apart piece by piece for our first time as husband and wife.” 

His words make you shiver. “Yeah,” you breathe out and nod, eyes flicking all over his face and down his body before coming back up. “I want to be able to do that to my husband too.” 

Jack groans, leans his forehead against yours. “The anticipation makes it better, right?”

You let out a small laugh. “Sure does, Peter.” You give him another quick kiss. “Let’s have some food.” Jack nods and pulls his forehead away. 

You and Jack both start to eat, still side by side and leaning into each other a little. “Oh, what’s the ring on your right hand?” Jack asks in between bites. 

“Mm,” you hum as you finish chewing and swallowing. “My something borrowed, which reminds me. Thank you. For doing that for me, arranging it.” You look down at the ring. “I didn’t realize how much it meant to do it until I had everything.” You return your eyes to Jack’s and smile at him. 

“It felt like you were a little more bummed about not doing it than you were admitting to yourself. And none of them felt burdened by it, if anything they were all excited to have that extra bit of involvement.” He raises his eyebrows a little and cocks his head just a little, the slightest I told you so smile pulling onto his face. 

“I’m ignoring that look on purpose,” you tell him before taking a bite and grinning at him. Jack just laughs and shakes his head, takes a bite of his own. “But the ring is from Dana, obviously. She said it’s been worn by every Evans woman who has gotten married for a hundred and two years and there’s not been a single divorce,” you explain after you finish your bite. 

Jack’s eyebrows raise at that and he tilts his head to silently say impressive as he chews. “Then something new you obviously know about which we’re circling back to in a second.” You grab your bouquet from the table. “Heather’s something old was this locket.” You hand the bouquet to Jack so he can see. 

“It’s very pretty.” He runs his thumb over the front. 

“It is. She got it at an antique store and said hummingbirds are a symbol of resilience and she thought that was fitting for us.” You rest your hand on Jack’s upper arm and squeeze a little. “Open it.” 

It should be more difficult than it is for Jack with how big his hands and how thick his fingers are but practicing medicine has given him phenomenal dexterity. You’re intimately familiar with how good his dexterity is. “Oh, wow,” Jack murmurs. He doesn’t know what he was expecting but not that. “Our first picture together.”

You beam at Jack even though he can’t see because he’s still looking at the picture. “She got it off my phone one night when we were out. Very sneaky,” you laugh. “And then apparently the rhyme ends with ‘a sixpence in your shoe.’ Mel wasn’t sure if anyone was getting one so she got one and we attached it to my shoe.” You hold it out for Jack to see. “But about this something new, Jack Abbot.”

“You skipped something blue.” Jack raises his brows at you slightly as he takes another bite. 

You shake your head, smirking just a little. “No, something blue is for you to see later.”

His eyes narrow in suspicion just a touch but you watch as they dilate a little because he knows it has to be something below your dress based on your smirk. “What if I want to see it now?” he rasps. 

“Then you’ll have to be patient.” You shrug at him. “Something new. Jack, it’s beautiful.” You hold up your wrist to admire the bracelet. “It’s so much and it complements my rings perfectly.” You can feel your eyes start to burn a little and you have to look away from the bracelet and Jack so that you don’t start crying again and render the eyedrops useless. 

“You deserve it,” Jack murmurs, making you shake your head and tilt it back so you don’t cry. “It’s about the least you deserve, Doll.” You reach blindly for his thigh and squeeze it as a thank you and way to say all the words you can’t at the moment. “And let’s talk about my something new.” That gets you to laugh a little and after a big breath you’re able to look at him. “It’s incredible.” Jack holds his wrist out this time, pulling his sleeves up a bit. “I don’t think I’ve ever had something this nice or been given such an amazing gift.” He runs a finger along the circular face of the watch. 

You’re smiling at him when he looks up at you. It’s soft and reflects so much love with the extra little squint of your eyes. “You deserve it. It’s about the least you deserve, Peter,” you repeat Jack’s words back to him, mean them just as much.

He smiles at you, just a hint of some shakiness in his lips before leaning in to kiss you. Like your thigh squeeze his kiss is a thank you and everything else he can’t say. “I love you,” he whispers as he pulls away, smiling softly at you.  

“I love you too.” You give him another little thigh squeeze. 

You and Jack continue to chat as you finish eating your appetizers. You still have some time left once your done and Jack pulls you into his lap and leans back into the couch as he holds you. You both revel in the closeness and soft touches. 

There’s a knock on the door and you know your time is up. “Guess I have to go share you with everyone again.” You pout at Jack playfully. 

He chuckles and kisses your out turned lip. “I know how you feel Doll.” He gives you a real kiss once you get rid of your pout and then is up and opening the door.

Waiting outside it for you are your photographer, your makeup artist, Robby, Dana, and your friend. “Marriage license time,” Robby sings a little as he walks in holding up the paper. 

All of you sign it, Dana and your friend acting as your two witnesses. You say goodbye and they head back to cocktail hour while you get your makeup touched up and you and Jack meet with your photographer for photos, take what feels like a thousand all over the place. You both know it’s going to be hard to choose which ones to get printed and hang. 

Just before you finish taking photos your wedding coordinator gets everyone to the reception space and seated for dinner. When you do finish she lets Robby know and hands him the mic. You’d also roped him in to quasi-emceeing for you. 

He introduces you as you and Jack walk into the reception space. “Alright everybody, for the second ever time, let’s give a warm welcome to the Abbots!” Your guests all cheer and clap for you as you and Jack make your way over to your sweetheart table and sit down, Jack pulling your chair out and offering you his hand to help you sit like he always does. 

“Okay, so,” Robby starts as dinner begins to be served. “Obviously dinner is being served. The bride and groom decided to let whoever wants to give a speech give one during dinner. But you have to give it before they give their own right before the first dance.” 

“I’m not going to give a full one since I really already got to at the altar. But, I just want to say again that you both mean so much to me and I am so happy for you guys. I wish you all the happiness in the world, you both deserve it so so much and deserve each other and your love. So here’s to the Abbot’s,” Robby raises his glass and everyone follows, “I love you both dearly.” He tilts his glass at you and the sound of glasses clinking together fills the room for a few seconds before it stops when sips are taken. 

Quite a few people give speeches over the course of dinner, Dana, Heather, your friend, Jack’s unit gets up and gives one together, some of the Pitt crew copying and getting up in small groups to say a few words. You and Jack laugh and chat together in between them, stay close to each other and pick off each other’s plates. You’d deliberately gotten different options so you could share, something you frequently do when you eat out. 

Once you’re done eating and signal to Robby he gets up and calls out to see if there are any last speeches and hands you and Jack the microphone when everyone stays seated. You and Jack take turns speaking to all of your friends and family, keep it short because you know everyone’s attention spans for speeches are worn by this point. 

After you finish Robby takes the microphone back, gives you and Jack a second to get out on the dance floor. He keeps the introduction simple. “And now we get to watch them have their first dance as husband and wife.”

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” you whisper to Jack as you start to dance when your song begins playing. 

“I know,” he murmurs back as he beams at you. “After all the planning and waiting for this day to come here we are.” You and Jack are really swaying to the music more than anything. You didn’t learn a dance or really practice. It just wasn’t your style as a couple. 

“You know I’ve been thinking about this moment since you danced with me up on the roof.” Your eyes start to grow a little shiny. 

Jack smirks a little and flicks his eyebrows up. “We weren’t even engaged then.”

You shake your head. “No, we weren’t. But I hoped and dreamed we would be one day and while we were dancing and ever since then I had moments where I really thought about it and what it would be like. Our first dance at our wedding.” 

“You wanna know a secret?” Jack’s grinning at you. 

“Always.”

“I came about three seconds away from proposing up there on the roof that night,” he admits with a little laugh. 

Your jaw falls open a little. “Really?” Jack nods at you with an amused smile. “Why didn’t you?” You’re smiling back at him now that you’ve gotten over the initial shock of his unexpected revelation. 

Jack hums for a second. “I didn’t think the roof of the hospital I work at and you were currently a patient at really screamed romantic or place to propose. And you were in the hospital. You’d been shot and almost died and I didn’t want it to feel like that’s why I was proposing. Because of what happened or because I felt like I had to or anything along those lines.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that,” you murmur. Jack nods. He knows. He knew then too, but it still worried him and at the end of the day he didn’t want to propose on the roof of the hospital. “Did you have the ring with you?”

“No,” he laughs, “nope, I was just going to get down on one knee and do it and promise you there was a ring waiting at home and send Robby to go get it.” He pauses for a second. “I was also worried you would get so excited you’d somehow manage to accidentally pull your central line out and it would go from cute date night scene to bloody crime scene with my hand clamped over your neck real quick.” 

“That would not have been ideal.” Jack spins you at the right point in the music and it and his words make you giggle a bit. “Would have been a hell of a story though.” 

“Oh, it would have been something,” he laughs. You both smile at each other fondly, glad you’ve gotten to a point where you can talk about what happened with some humor and not feel a total ache inside. 

“I love you,” you whisper to him, “more than anything.” You stick your lips out and Jack leans down as you continue to dance and gives you the kiss you ask for. 

“I love you too,” he whispers against your lips, “more than anything.” He steals another couple of kisses from you before straightening back up as the song starts to end. “I’m going to dip you,” he murmurs quickly.

And as the music ends Jack dips you and kisses you again, just like he did at the altar. You smile into it before the kiss breaks and you keep your foreheads together as Jack brings you back upright. “Always so smooth,” you laugh. 

“Only for you, Doll,” he murmurs, pulling his forehead from yours and giving you a quick forehead kiss while your guests clap and the DJ puts on a fast song, everyone heading to the dance floor.

The party really starts then, the DJ doing a great job of playing all the right songs to get people dancing and having a good time with you and Jack out on the dance floor. He mixes in a few slow songs and you and Jack enjoy watching who pairs up with who and getting to take a few minutes to focus back on each other and check in. 

“I’ll be right back,” Jack tells you with a quick kiss after a slower song finishes and a fast one starts. 

“You better be,” you say with mock sternness in your tone and on your face, Jack rolling his eyes playfully at you. He walks off the dance floor and shrugs his jacket off and lays it over his chair at the sweetheart table and undoes a button of his shirt. 

Jack keeps his promise, making his way back to you from behind and pulling you close as he starts dancing with you again. “Fast enough?” He yells over the music. 

“I suppose.” You turn your head up to look back at him, huge smile on your face. Your eyebrows raise and you spin in his arms when you notice the lack of jacket and open button. “Hot?”

“Not anymore.” Jack smirks at you and pulls you back close to him to dance. 

You and Jack get separated a bit as you dance. And when another slow song starts Robby cuts in just before Jack can get to you. “May I have this dance?” He offers you his hand. “Don’t even start Jack, the officiant is allowed a dance with the bride, it’s just the rules.” Robby smirks, giving Jack a look.  

You laugh softly at Robby’s playful over-formalness. “You may,” you nod at him, take his hand. “Next one, Peter.” You wink at Jack.

“It’s true Jack, Robby’s right,” Dana playfully chides him. “Plus I think you owe me a dance.” 

“I suppose you did walk me down the aisle.” Jack smiles and steps away from you and Robby before offering his hand to Dana. 

You and Robby start dancing, really just swaying around the dance floor more than anything. “I had an interesting conversation with your husband while he was getting ready earlier.” 

You’re smiling at Robby the entire time, but your eyes light up and you beam at him when he calls Jack your husband. “My husband,” you just have to say the words, make a little face of excitement. “And what did you and my husband talk about?”  

Robby’s quiet for a moment as he thinks of what exactly he wants to say. “I started by telling him that the two of you were idiots for thinking you don’t deserve each other and your love, because I know you have the same thoughts as him at times.” Your mouth drops open a little and you scoff playfully. It’s definitely not what you expected him to say. “And then I said some rendition of this. You said he’s your everything and I know he is. Everyone here knows he is, we all believe you. I see the way you look at him and hear the way you talk about him. But, you have to know that you are everything to Jack in that same way, that same capacity. He looks at you and talks about you in the same way you do about him. The way that you love him and feel about him and the intensity of your love for him, it’s all exactly the same as how Jack loves you and feels about you and how intense his love for you is. You think he deserves your love, right?” 

“He does,” you affirm quietly as you nod. 

“Yeah,” Robby nods, “he does. And you deserve his love just the same. I told Jack that I think today, on the day of your wedding, would be a really good day to let yourself accept it. That you deserve Jack and his love and to be loved at the same intensity with which you love Jack.” Robby’s giving you a small, knowing smile, eyebrows slightly raised as he nods just a little at you. 

You have to look away for a moment. “Robby, I,”  you start, but never finish. His words hit you just as hard as they hit Jack. As hard as it is for you to believe and admit you know Robby is right. 

“It’s okay,” you can hear the smile in Robby’s voice and you look back at him. “You don’t have to say anything. I just told Jack I’d give you the same spiel.” 

You laugh softly. “What was his reaction? It had to involve your therapist.”

Robby laughs properly at that. “Yeah, you know him well. He said our therapist was rubbing off on me and asked if I was thinking of leaving him to become a psychologist.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Sounds like him.” You and Robby share a quiet laugh together, your eyes drifting across the dance floor until you spot Jack. You watch him and Dana dance for a moment, both of them smiling and laughing. It makes your heart warm. 

“You’re really good for him, you know?” Robby watches you watch Jack. You pull your eyes back to him and flash an apologetic smile for ignoring him a little for a second there. “I’ve never really had the chance to tell you that. But you’re really really good for him. You’re what he needed.” 

You give Robby a small smile. “Yeah, he was what I needed too. What I need.”

“I know it sounds like something people say just to say, but please try to believe me when I tell you that I have never seen that man happier than I have since you’ve been in his life.” Robby smiles and tilts his head. “And thank you. For loving and helping the people around him too.” 

“You’re family. All of you. And thank you, Michael,” your voice shakes just slightly. “For everything.” 

Robby huffs a laugh and looks away from you for a second. “That was a very targeted use of Michael meant to make me cry again.”  

You both laugh as the song ends and move towards the edge of the dance floor. “It wasn’t deliberate,” you whisper as you hug him and give him a kiss on the cheek. “It just felt like the right moment.” 

“Am I allowed to have my wife back now?” 

“Of course,” Robby tells him as you both turn to greet Jack and it’s almost like you’re magnetized the way you both seamlessly move towards each other, your hand sliding to rest on Jack’s back as his arm wraps around your waist. He gives you a reassuring little squeeze and kiss to your temple and you rest your other hand on his chest. 

“He gave me the spiel.” You look up at Jack with a gentle smile. 

“Ah,” Jack nods, “good. You should listen to him.” 

“You both should listen to me!” Robby scoffs playfully. “Once again, you’re both idiots sometimes.” 

“Thank you for not putting that in your ceremony opening or your speech.” Jack flicks his eyebrows up and nods at Robby with a fake grimace and ire. 

Robby rolls his eyes. “Just try, yeah? That’s all. Just try to accept you deserve each other and your love, okay?”

You and Jack share a look and exchange soft smiles before turning to Robby. “We are,” Jack assures him. 

“Promise,” you add. 

Robby looks between the two of you before nodding. “Alright. Good.” He looks back at the dance floor. The music is fast again, the majority of your guests out dancing. It makes you and Jack happy, seeing all of your friends and family blending together like they’ve known each other forever. “You guys should get back to dancing with your guests.”

“You,” you point at Robby, smile growing, “should come with us!”

He laughs, shakes his head. “Maybe in a bit, I’m going to take advantage of your open bar and go get a drink, sit for a minute.”

You boo him teasingly. “No, no, Doll,” Jack starts as Robby turns and starts walking away, “if the old man needs a rest, we have to let him. Don’t want him straining himself, do we?” You bite your lip and turn your head into Jack’s chest a little as you fight back a laugh.

Robby stops walking and gives a singular hummed laugh before turning to look back at you and Jack. “You just really had to go there, huh?”

Jack presses his lips together and pulls them up a bit in a not quite smirk, as he shrugs and starts pulling you towards the center of the dance floor. “I didn’t go anywhere but the truth.” 

You giggle as you and Jack turn and let yourselves get pulled back into the middle of things, starting to dance with your friends again. Jack doesn’t let you get separated this time, he wants you close, keeps a hand wrapped around your waist and you pulled back close to him. You share a laugh when you see Robby there with you, getting pulled in by Heather and Santos. 

A few songs later and the DJ announces that the cake will be cut in ten minutes. You spin so that you and Jack are chest to chest. “Guess we should go sit and cool down and I should touch my makeup up before that.”

Jack nods at you and laces your hand with his. The two of you walk back over to your sweetheart table and Jack pulls your chair back for you, helps you sit before he takes his own seat. “Thank you.” You lean over and give him a quick kiss on the cheek before grabbing the makeup bag staged under the table. 

“For?” 

“For getting my chair and helping me into my seat.” You throw him a smile as you start to pull things out of the bag. “And don’t say I don’t need to thank you for it because that’s what a gentleman does or whatever variation thereof you were about to say. I do need to thank you for it because I appreciate it and you and want you to always know that and that I don’t take you for granted. And most men don’t do things like that anymore, Jack. So it is special to me.” 

Jack laughs to himself. “You’re welcome. I enjoy doing those kinds of little things for you.” 

“I know, because you’re the best.” You pull a couple of oil blotting papers out from the pack in your makeup bag. “Sh.” You hold your index finger up to Jack’s lips. “Just accept that you are.” You pull your finger away and replace it quickly with your lips. 

Jack deepens the kiss more than he generally would in public and you let him. You’re effectively alone right now, everyone having so much fun dancing or sitting around the other tables and laughing that nobody is looking at you. Even then it’s not like you’re fully making out. Jack’s tongue just presses against your lips a little and you open your mouth just a little for him, just enough for his tongue to slip into your mouth and taste you for the briefest of seconds.

“You taste like expensive champagne,” he groans against your lips before pulling away. “I love it.” 

You hum at him and Jack says nothing, doesn’t flinch or blink as you start to blot at his face with the papers, just lets you do your thing, both of you equally sweaty. It’s a better look on him though. You only blot a few more places and then pull away, deciding it’s okay if he looks a little sweaty. Just makes him more attractive to you if you’re honest. “I enjoy expensive champagne,” you smirk at him as you shrug, “actually I’d like more expensive champagne. We should go get some.”

“I’ll go get us some, okay? While you touch yourself up or whatever it is you believe you need to do, because I personally think you look gorgeous just as you are right now.” He leans in and steals a kiss before you can argue with him. 

“I look sweaty and shiny.” Your eyes track him as he stands up.  

Jack stoops and kisses the top of your hair carefully. “Gorgeous,” he whispers as he walks away, walking backwards for a few paces to wink at you before turning. 

You shake your head at him affectionately and go back to blotting your face and touching up your makeup so that your lipstick is fresh and your face perfectly between matte and dewy. You know your photographer can edit things but you also know other people will be taking photos. It really hits you once you close your compact and aren’t focused on your face anymore. You and Jack are married. You’re about to cut the cake at your wedding. 

Jack’s thinking the same thing as he walks to the bar and in the moment he waits for the bartender to pour the two glasses of champagne and one of water. He thumbs at his wedding ring, opens and closes his fist. He’s not used to it, wearing a ring, and so it’s a constant reminder. You’re married. He’s bringing his wife back champagne for you to enjoy together before you cut the cake at your wedding. 

“Okay, more expensive champagne as requested.” Jack hands you your flute before he sits and sets down his flute and the glass of water. “And some water. We should both have some.” He gives you a little no arguing look. 

“I wasn’t going to argue, I was going to say thank you and that I meant to ask you to get some before you walked away but forgot.” You grab the glass and take a couple sips. “So thank you. I needed it.” You hold the glass out to him. 

“Course, Doll.” He takes it from you, has a couple of sips himself before setting it down. You both pick up your champagne flutes and take a sip. 

You hum as you let the bubbles rest in your mouth for a few seconds before swallowing. “You have to admit it’s really fucking good champagne.”

Jack laughs. “I never said it wasn’t! I think it’s very good.” He stops speaking but his lips twitch like he wants to say more, eyes glint a little mischievously. 

You narrow your eyes at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, “I was just thinking about how I was never a big champagne fan before you.” You raise your eyebrows at him asking that so? as you take another sip. “Tasting it on you though… changed my opinion. Now I love it.”  

You cough a little as you finish your sip, not expecting him to say that. “Probably less tasting it on me and more me making us always get expensive real champagne.” 

“No, I’m quite certain it was tasting it on you.” You give him a look. “It was. The first time we shared a bottle of one of your favorite expensive real champagnes we were at your apartment because your week had been long and you wanted to celebrate it being over and the fact that I had a full weekend off so we could spend the entire weekend together. I had a glass and thought it was better than champagne I’d had before, yes, but I didn’t love it really. And then we started making out on your couch and I tasted it on you and my eyes were opened. Ever since then I really have come to enjoy it. But it was tasting it on you that made me start to enjoy it.”

You nod at him, the slight grin you’re wearing telling Jack that while you struggle to believe it, you do believe him. “I’m equal parts wooed and turned on by that little confession, Peter.”

Jack laughs at that, properly, because it was such a you thing to say. “You are…” he shakes his head and looks around while he tries to find the right word. “You.” His eyes crinkle and his lips pull up, “you’re so you sometimes, Doll, and I love it so much. I’m sure that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense but-” 

“It does,” you cut in to reassure him. “I know what you mean. You have moments where you say or do something and I think to myself that was such a Jack thing of him to say or do. I get it, and I love it too.” You give Jack the same loving smile he’s giving you. “A toast.” You raise your champagne flute, Jack following your lead. “To a long lifetime of expensive champagne together.”

Jack shakes his head at you, still smiling at you like he’s drowning in love. “Here, here,” he murmurs before you clink your glasses and take a sip. “You done touching up?”

“I am,” you nod. “We still have some time.”

“I know, come here.” Jack beckons you with his fingers, his other hand patting his lap. You giggle as you comply with his request, sliding your flute of champagne over next to his before sitting on his lap, one arm wrapping behind his neck so you can scratch at the nape of his neck how he loves. “That’s better.” One arm comes around you to hold you close while his other hand rests in your lap and starts to play with your hand that rests there too.

You let yourself lean into him. Let yourself lean into your husband as you take a moment together and watch the room, sip on champagne and water. “I can’t believe it’s almost over.”

“I know,” Jack agrees. His hand squeezes your hip and you look down at him. “Thank you.”

You smile at him curiously. “For what?” 

“Everything.” He shrugs, looking into your eyes. “Marrying me. Being my best friend. Making me laugh. Taking care of me. Loving me.” There’s a little pause between each one so they all sink in. Jack glances away from you and you can tell from that and his expression that there’s one he’s fighting with himself about saying. When he looks back up at you he’s clearly more emotional. “Waking up,” he whispers so quietly you would’ve missed it if you weren’t looking right at him. 

“Jack-”

“No,” he shakes his head, clearing his throat. “No, I don’t want us to go there or dwell on it or any of that, I just wanted to say it, felt like we should acknowledge it quickly somehow.” 

You give him a soft smile, bring your hands to cup his face. “I’ll always wake up for you,” you murmur as you look him in the eyes and lean in to give him a series of painfully soft and sweet kisses. 

“Good.” He smirks at you. “If you don’t I’ll just pinch your ass awake.” 

“Ha!” you laugh triumphantly. “So you admit it! You did pinch my ass awake on the day of our third anniversary and wedding.” Jack starts laughing because the way you said it was so you again and he loves you so much and you’re his fucking wife now. You shake your head at him in mock upset.

Jack keeps laughing, his laugh so contagious it makes you start to laugh with him. He’s overwhelmed. “I love you so fucking much I want to squeeze you and bite you and kiss you and also just fuck you right here on this table, god.” He leans in and steals a kiss from you, longer this time. 

“I love when I bring out the cuteness aggression in you,” you giggle as he pulls away. Jack shakes his head at you and laughs softly. “But hey,” you grow a little serious again. “Thank you too. For everything. Marrying me, being my best friend, making me laugh. Loving me.” Your voice gets a little like Jack’s did and you tilt your head at him a little. “Taking care of me. Never leaving my side. Never letting me feel alone.” 

“Always, Doll.” Jack’s eyes crinkle just a little more than normal with his soft smile that you return. You just look at each other for a moment, let it all fade away and rest your foreheads together. 

“Here.” You pull your forehead from Jack’s and grab a napkin, dip a little piece in the glass of water. “Let me make sure you don’t have any lipstick on you.” 

“Not my color?” He smirks. 

“Not there it isn’t.” You look him in the eyes and smirk harder, the quickest and slightest raise of your brows.

Jack lets out a single choked laugh as you bring the napkin to his lips and rub gently. “Are you trying to have me hard in the cake cutting photos?”

You roll your eyes at him affectionately as you finish wiping off his lips. “I’m sitting on your lap Peter, I can assure you that if I wanted you hard in the cake cutting photos I wouldn’t be using my words to achieve that.” You boop his nose on the last word and die a little inside at how cute he looks when he scrunches his nose at it. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he playfully grumbles as you grab your lipstick and compact to check if you need to touch up from the kisses. “Do you want me to put my jacket back on while we cut the cake for the photos?” 

“Up to you,” you shrug at him. “I want you to be happy and look how you want to look in our wedding photos. It’s not all about what I want.” 

“No, I know, I just didn’t know if you had a preference because I don’t really care strongly one way or the other,” Jack explains. “I just want you to be happy.”

You tilt your head at him and give him a small smile. “As long as you’re up there cutting the cake with me Jack, I’m going to be happy. Jacket or not. All I need is you.” Jack makes a little noise of protest and you laugh softly. “Why don’t you leave it off? We have lots of photos of you with it on and I don’t know, you have the jacket off for a reason. Because you got hot while dancing and having fun at our wedding before we even made it to cutting the cake. I like the idea of the photos reflecting that. But truly, it’s up to you.” 

“Alright, I’ll leave it off.” A beat passes and Jack doesn’t quite stifle his smirk fast enough so you catch a glimpse of it. “Do you want me to undo one more button for the photos?” 

Your heart races a bit just at the thought of him with two buttons undone. “That would be very slutty of you Peter,” you hum. 

“Slutty?” Jack barks out a laugh. “Are you saying I’ve looked slutty every time I’ve worn a dress shirt like that?”

“Why do you think I never want you wearing two undone in public? I’d have to fight everyone off.” You shrug.

“So you’re saying I’m a slut?” He raises his eyebrows, amused smile ghosting his lips as he tries to keep it from pulling up. But you can see it, especially in his eyes.

“No.” You shake your head slowly and finish off your champagne, set the empty flute on the table. You lean in close enough for your breath to ghost across his lips, drop your voice to just above a whisper. “I’m saying you’re my slut,” you pull back and give him a dazzling smile, “Dr. Abbot.”

“Jesus,” Jack mutters under his breath, shaking his head and looking away from you. “You’re ending up using your words to achieve it without trying.” You giggle at his reference to your earlier discussion. “Doctor was so on purpose.” 

You tug just sharply enough on the curls at the nape of his neck to pull a little sharp breath from him. “You started it my love, making me think about you with two buttons open. I merely finished it.” You steal a quick kiss from him. “You know you can call me it now.” 

Jack is focusing so intensely on not getting any harder than the semi he currently has that he’s a little too distracted to truly think about your words. His eyebrows raise a little. “Call you what?”

Your eyes flick away from him for a second before returning. You hum softly, the faintest smirk and lean back in close. “Abbot.”

Jack groans low, right from the center of his chest and the sound makes you shiver as you stand up. “No no no, where do do you think you’re going? You don’t get to drop that and run.”

“Yes yes yes. We’re being summoned to cut the cake.” You nod over at where the wedding coordinator is waving you over. 

“Okay, well I’m going to need a minute here,” Jack huffs under his breath. 

“Oh?” You feign innocence. “Something the matter, dear?” Jack looks at you stone faced and shaking his head slightly. “Come on,” you hold your hands out for him. “Just stay behind me until you’re good.” 

“Alright, but don’t ‘accidentally’ lean back into me and rub your ass all over me.” Jack takes your hands and stands, walks a step behind you just to the side when you begin walking. 

“I would never, I can’t believe you’d accuse me of doing such a thing.” You click your tongue at him.

“Ha!” Jack scoffs a laugh. “You would, multiple times. And I’m serious, if you do I’ll have no choice but to drag you to the nearest bathroom.”

You tilt your head and he can feel your smirk even if he can’t see it. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” 

“Oh that’s not a threat Doll,” Jack murmurs, all gravel and lust. He rests a hand on your hip once you arrive in front of the cake and squeezes. “It’s a promise.” 

You glance back up at him and the hunger he’s staring down at you with almost makes you say you need a minute and grab his hand and run to the nearest bathroom. Instead you just stare back at him for a moment before he nods to the cake and you turn back around. 

The cutting itself is fairly quick and easy. Jack’s steady emergency room physician hands are able to hold yours still as you cut into the cake and pull a slice out. He holds the plate as you each feed each other a little bite and kiss once you’re done. There’s no smashing of any kind, you know Jack would never and neither would you. It’s sweet and the love is palpable as your friends and family watch, photographer snapping away. 

The dance floor clears for the most part as everyone grabs cake and takes a breather. You and Jack take your piece and return back to your sweetheart table, but just about as soon as you’re finished you’re dragged back onto the dance floor together by Dana and Parker. 

You and Jack get a little separated but are still pretty close and it’s easy for you to dance your way back over to him. “Hey!” You give him a quick kiss to the cheek. “I’m going to the bathroom. It’ll take a second with the dress. Try not to have too much fun without me.” You wink at Jack before turning around and grabbing your friend’s hand for help with your dress. 

He watches you walk away and link arms with your friend, lean into each other as you walk and giggle together. Jack intends on slinking off the dance floor since he really only wants to be here with you. 

“Nope!” He’s caught by Santos and McKay. “She’ll be back soon enough, you can stay out here with us.” Santos raises her eyebrows at him almost as a little challenge and Jack rolls his eyes but lets them pull him back in. 

He’s always aware of you though, always wants to know where you are in case he needs to get to you immediately. So he sees when you walk out of the bathroom, you and your friend still giggling. He shakes his head and smiles at the two of you, focusing back where he is. 

But when your friend appears without you he looks around. He stops dancing without fully realizing it once he spots you. You’re sitting at a table with a bunch of the men from his unit and their significant others. You feel his gaze on you, you always do, and look over at him, give him a quick wave and a smile but don’t go to move at all, just return to your conversation. 

You had met them before the wedding since they all flew in a day early, had a nice dinner all together, so it’s not like they were literal strangers at your wedding. But still. You don’t have to be over there sitting with them and talking to them and getting to know them. Yet you are. Because like everyone else important in his life you want to do more than just know them cursorily. You want to be friends. You want them to know they’re just as important to you as they are to Jack. You want them to know that they can call you and you’ll help just like Jack would and that your and Jack’s place is open to them whenever they might need. 

“You good?” Dana yells over the music at Jack, grabs a hand to get him dancing again. He smiles and nods at her, his mind still on you and how amazing and perfect you are and how fucking lucky he is. 

A couple of songs pass and Jack watches you and a few of those who you’d been talking with make your way back to the dance floor. Jack manages to slip off the dance floor finally. He walks up to the DJ. “Can you play this song?” He shows the DJ his phone.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I’ll play it next.”

“Perfect, thanks.” Jack smiles to himself as he moves around the dance floor to be close enough to you but far enough away that you don’t really see him as you dance.   

The current song ends and everyone is thrown for a second by the instrumental piano opening. It takes you five or six seconds to fully clock it, laughing to yourself and starting to look for Jack when you realize. 

He slips up right behind you, one hand on your waist as his front presses into your back. “Hi, Doll,” he murmurs, the cheeky grin he’s wearing clear in his voice. He presses a teasing kiss to your neck. 

You spin so that you’re chest to chest now, hands going just where they need to so that you can start slightly faster slow dancing. “Hi Peter.” You lean up for a quick kiss. “As Time Goes By. How coincidental.” You arch a brow at him in playful accusation.

“It felt right,” Jack admits to requesting it, shrugging, “since I wouldn’t sing it for you in Paris.” While other couples are dancing the two of you can feel lots of eyes on you. It’s clearly a song that’s playing specifically for you and Jack. He gives you a slightly sly smile and your brows raise in anticipation. “Of all the bookstores in all the towns in all the world, you walked into mine.” 

You press your lips together and smile as you hold back a laugh. “I can’t decide if that was really bad or really good.” You and Jack share a laugh. “It was very romantic. This whole thing, requesting the song and sneaking up behind me, because I know that was deliberate too,” you nod your head a little at him as you say it, “and the line.” Your eyes grow a little glassy at the sentiment. “I like to think we were fated too.” 

“I know we were,” Jack nods, “I know the world brought you to me on purpose.” His eyes are a little glassy now too. 

You push your lips out a little and Jack leans down to kiss you. “I love you,” you murmur against his lips. 

Jack hums a little laugh, lips pulling up into a smile against yours. “I love you too.”

The final hour or so of the wedding goes fast and yet slow. You and Jack both don’t want it to end but at the same time you’re a little desperate to finally be alone together for the night. It’s been a beautiful and perfect long day. Your and Jack’s perfect day. 

You say goodbye to everyone as they all walk over towards the car you and Jack will be leaving in. There’s hugs and a few tears and promises to see each other soon and text and call and send photos from the honeymoon. 

And then you and Jack are finally in the town car and being driven away. 

“That was really the perfect day,” you sigh as you lean into Jack. You’re happy that Robby was able to check you into the hotel earlier before the wedding and drop your stuff so that you and Jack can just run through the lobby to the elevators and get to your room as quick as possible.

“Yes it was.” Jack moves his arm around you and pulls you even closer. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” You tilt your head up as Jack leans down and kisses you. 

It devolves so very quickly. You and Jack makeout effectively the entire rest of the way to the hotel. Jack gropes at your breasts over your dress, sucks bruises into your neck and collarbones and chest now that he finally can again. The last two weeks of being unable to mark you anywhere that could be visible in your dress were torturous even if he understood why and completely respected it. 

You undo another button of his shirt and kiss at his chest, lick your lips to wet your lipstick before you do so that you leave lip prints behind on his chest and his neck. You wrap your hand around Jack as best you can over his pants and rub at him. Both of you happily swallow down the quiet moans you pull from each other, knowing that the screen dividing you from the driver is not soundproof. 

“Do you want to stop?” you pant softly against Jack’s lips, moaning softly as he squeezes one of your breasts and nibbles at your jaw. 

“Why would I ever want to do that?” His lips are back on your neck the second he’s done speaking, kissing and sucking lightly, smiling to himself when you squirm a little from how good it feels. 

“So that you’re not hard walking to the elevator.” You barely get ‘elevator’ out before Jack’s back to kissing you. 

“If you think,” he pauses so that he can kiss you again, “that I’m going to be anything,” another kiss and a nip to your bottom lip, “other than painfully fucking hard for you,” another kiss, “until I’ve finally come inside of you,” Jack groans as your thumb flicks over his head in just the right spot, “come inside my fucking wife,” those words steal your breath even harder and Jack moves to suck on that spot on your neck he knows is extra sensitive, “you’re fucking insane Doll.” 

“Fuck, okay,” you gasp, as he sucks that spot again, “just wanted to check.” 

He hums a thank you against your lips and you continue like you are until the car starts to slow as you arrive at the hotel. Jack’s quick to slide out of the car and then help you out before you both make a walking sprint to the elevator, the late hour meaning the lobby is pretty much empty. You giggle to yourself as Jack presses you up against the wall of the elevator, your very own movie moment. He groans into your mouth in relief a little now that he can finally grind his hips against yours. 

Jack forces himself to pull away from you as the elevator slows to a stop. Robby already gave him instructions to the room so he doesn’t have to stop and read the signs. He laces your fingers together and leads you to the room, fishing the key from his pocket and opening the door. 

Even with as absolutely fucking wired as you both are for each other, the day catches up with you once you step in the room and see the bed in the honeymoon suite of the fancy downtown hotel you’re staying at for the night. You leave for your honeymoon tomorrow. You’re so fucking ready to know where you’re going. 

You’re both tired and there’s a bit of a lull in the making out and groping as you walk in and both look over the room, though Jack stands right behind you, hands squeezing your hips over your dress and keeping your ass flush against him. He sets both of your phones on the dresser next to you before you take a few more steps in so that you’re almost right at the edge of the bed.

“Can I?” Jack leans into you and murmurs against your neck, fingers running over the part of your dress that will let him start to take you out of it. 

“Please,” you breathe, voice shaking just slightly in anticipation. You had decided on no wedding lingerie that required changing, only what would fit under your dress. Jack wanted the opportunity to slowly strip you out of your wedding dress, said it’s something he’ll only get the chance to do once. And what you have on under your dress is pretty, very bridal, while still practical enough to get you through the wedding. But you have lots of lingerie for the honeymoon all in the carry-on suitcase you packed, including a pair of lacy underwear with his name embroidered in the gusset. 

Jack’s hands tremble a little as he starts to get your dress off you. He takes his time, every movement purposeful and designed to tease both of you a little bit, his fingertips ghosting over the skin of your back, lips trailing along your spine and shoulders. He’s careful not to rip anything as he helps the dress fall down your figure and pulls it out from under you once you step out, helps you out of your shoes. He doesn’t let himself look up because he knows if he does he won’t lay your dress out nicely on the couch. You turn as he lays it on the couch so when he turns back to you Jack he’s met with your eyes on him. 

His eyes don’t stay on yours for long though, dropping down and running over your body, stopping for a second at the blue garter on your thigh. 

“I know it’s not proper wedding lingerie, except for the something blue. I suppose it is,” you laugh breathlessly. 

Jack shakes his head slowly. You’re unreal, far and away the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His cock strains against his boxer briefs painfully. “Fuck me,” he groans as he palms himself over his pants, desperate for any friction he can get. “You’re stunning.” Jack walks over to you, pulls his hand off himself only so that he can get his hands on you, let them glide over your bare skin.

“Your turn.” Your trembling hands come to the buttons at Jack’s chest and start unbuttoning them, a few a little more difficult when your hands shake worse as Jack squeezes at your ass and one of your breasts. He pops the clasp of your bra as you finish the last button of his shirt, both of you shrugging out of the items and tossing them aside. Your eyes rake over his chest and arms, pussy throbbing as you do. He’s so handsome you can hardly stand it. “You’re so perfect, Jack.”

You lick your lips to wet your lipstick again and kiss at his collarbones and chest as your nails drag lightly down his stomach. “Fuck,” Jack grunts at the sensation. He rolls one of your nipples in between his thumb and forefinger and kneads at your other breast as your fingers get his belt and pants undone. 

You hook your thumbs in the waistbands of his pants and boxer briefs, rewet your lips and slowly kiss down his stomach and leave lip prints in your wake. “Doll,” Jack husks as you sink to your knees. 

Once you settle on them your thumbs finally drag Jack’s pants and boxer briefs down, his cock springing free and slapping against his stomach as he shivers. “Peter,” you sigh back at him as you take him in your hand and slowly pump him. Your mouth kisses around the base of him, his balls and inner thighs and lines of his hips, lip prints decorating his skin as Jack groans loudly, eyes unable to leave you. “See?” Your breath fans across his skin as you look up at him through your lashes. “It is your color here.” 

Jack chokes on the laugh your words pull for him when you take his head in your mouth, humming happily as you swirl your tongue around him before taking more of him. “Fucking christ!” Jack grunts, lets his head tip back and eyes flutter closed to focus on the feeling of you bobbing up and down him. 

You hum around him at times, usually when you pull another deep groan from him. You love having Jack in your mouth. Few things make you feel as powerful and sexy. 

Jack’s close. He’s been wound tight for you all day, especially since after the ceremony. He lowers his head back down and opens his eyes. Two fingers hook under your chin. “Up.” 

You pull off him and pout. “Jack,” you whine a little. “Wanna make you come like this.” 

“Next time.” He offers you his hands which you take and stand up. Jack kisses you hard. “The first place I’m coming for my wife is inside her,” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Fuck,” you whimper as Jack starts kissing you again. 

“On the bed,” Jack instructs as he pulls his lips off yours. “If you have anything in your hair, take it out so it won’t hurt you.” You do as he asks, situating your hair and then crawling to the middle of the bed and leaning back on your hands so you can watch him. Jack gets his shoes off and then gets on the bed on his knees. He grabs your feet and holds them up, lips finding one of your ankles and starting to kiss up the inside of your legs, head moving back and forth between both legs until he grows closer to the garter. 

His lips stay on the thigh it’s on, kissing around it. “It’s very pretty,” he murmurs, lips teasing your skin. 

“I thought you’d like it,” you pant.

“Love it Doll.” Jack nibbles at the skin of your inner thigh just below your garter and then takes the material between his teeth and pulls it down off your leg. 

“Fuck Jack!” you moan. It’s such a simple move but the way he keeps his eyes on yours the entire time makes it one of the most erotic things he’s ever done for you. 

He’s quick to make his way back up you, grabs the waistband of your underwear and quickly gets them off. You think he’s going to settle with his face in between your thighs but he doesn’t. He nods at you and you lay back on the bed while he kisses up your tummy and chest, stopping to lavish your breasts with attention from his mouth and hands. “Fucking love your tits,” Jack groans against one of your nipples. You thread your hands through his hair and tug a little as your back arches at the feeling of his tongue swirling around it.  

“Jack, please,” you beg, for what you’re not sure. He just feels too good, his hot skin that’s pressing against yours and his mouth on your breasts. 

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, “I’ve always got you Doll.” Jack kisses his way up your chest to your neck and jaw and then finally your lips. Your legs spread further apart for him and as he makes his way up his right hand slides down and slips between your lips. Jack feels how wet you are the second his middle finger hits your clit. “You’re fucking soaked,” he rasps against your lips, fingers still moving down to feel just how wet you really are. 

“I have been all night,” you admit through a little moan, the palm of his hand rubbing against your clit as his fingers tease your cunt, circling around your entrance but never slipping inside. “For my husband. Have needed you all night.”

“Yeah?” Jack pulls back from you a little. “I’ve needed you too.” His hand pulls away from you and you whine at loss. Jack offers you his index and middle finger, the two most coated in you. You maintain eye contact as you open your mouth and let him slide them inside before you suck them clean, running your tongue up and down each finger, moaning softly. Jack’s hips grind into you without conscious thought, his cock hard and heavy against you. “Such a good girl for me,” he coos as he pulls his fingers from your mouth. “Let me taste you.”

Jack kisses you, licking into your mouth and groaning as he tastes you on your tongue. He shifts a little as he devours you, kissing you with just the right pressure to tease. He doesn’t stop kissing you as the fingers of his left hand trail down you and make you shiver. He’s careful how he does it, keeps all but his fingertips off you until his middle and ring finger tease you again, pressing into you shallowly and withdrawing a few times. “Please Jack!” you keen for him. “Please, need it, need you.”

“Okay, Doll.” Jack’s lips are back on yours as he arches his wrist a little further and slides his two fingers all the way inside of you, curling them perfectly over that spongy spot inside of you.

And you feel it. The cool press of metal against the outside of your pussy. “Jack!” you gasp his name, fingers tugging even harder at the salt and pepper curls you love so much. 

“Yes Doll?” He smirks at you, fingers dragging back out of you before plunging right back in. 

“Your- oh!” Jack steals your breath and your train of thought as he changes his pace and hooks his fingers just a little bit more, fucks you with them a little harder. “Your ring, your wedding ring. I can feel it.” 

“Can you?” Jack hums at you, “Well how about that?” You whimper at his words, know he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing. He kisses you again but it doesn’t last particularly long because the feeling of his ring against you and his fingers fucking you perfectly completely steals your ability to kiss him back in any meaningful way, your mouth hanging open a bit as you let out breathy higher pitched moans with each pass of Jack’s fingers. 

“Jack I need you inside me,” you rush out in a single exhale, still moaning intermittently. “Need it. Your cock. Not your fingers. Please.” One of your hands grabs at the wrist of his left hand to still him. And Jack does stop, smirking a little at your desperation. You take a few breaths before looking Jack in the eyes. “First place I’m coming for my husband is on his cock.”

Jack stills and growls at your words as he pulls his fingers from you, rolling a bit so that he’s back properly on top of you and not rolled to the side slightly. He should have seen that one coming, he set himself right up for it with what he said to you. Jack doesn’t offer you his fingers this time, bringing them to his own mouth and sucking them clean. “God!” he groans as he finishes. “You taste so fucking good. My wife tastes so fucking good.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You nod at him, hands slipping between your bodies and grabbing at his cock, trying in vain to guide him inside of you. “Fuck me Jack, please. Fuck your wife!” Your words make Jack shudder. He pulls back so he can watch as he runs his cock through you, letting out a shuddering breath as he does. “Jack, I need you,” you whine at him. 

“I know, Doll, I know. I need you too.” Jack takes himself in his hand and watches as he lines himself up. His chest heaves slightly as he drags his eyes back up to yours and then pushes into you almost agonizingly slow. “Fuck,” Jack draws the word out as slow as he pushes inside of you, both of you fighting through the pleasure to keep your eyes open. 

“Oh, Jack” you moan softly, “more, please more.” 

Jack groans as he leans down and kisses you, sucking on your bottom lip and pulling it taut as you flutter around him. “Shit, you’re so fucking perfect,” he pants against your lips. “My perfect wife.” His arms slip under your shoulders so his hands can cradle your face as he pulls his hips back just as slow as he pushed into you. 

“My husband.” Your lips graze his as you breathe the words out. You roll your hips in tandem with Jack so that he’s fucking you a little harder, cunt wrapping around him so tight Jack swears it takes a little more force to pull himself out of you. “Fuck Jack!” you mewl, one hand clawing at his shoulder and the other at his ass cheek for a moment before your fingers squeeze at his muscle.

Jack hisses at the feeling, kissing you passionately, tongue exploring your mouth as though he doesn’t already have you memorized. He keeps his pace languid for now, wants to drag this out for the both of you. You love it, wouldn't have it any other way right now as you drown in Jack and his love and this moment.

The room is filled with the lewd wet sound of your pussy and heavy pants against skin as Jack ceases his greediness and lets your tongue into his mouth. He instinctively chuckles a little with how eagerly you take advantage of the opportunity, head lifting off the bed a little for a few seconds as you kiss him.   

As much as he doesn’t want to Jack pulls apart so you both can breathe. “What are you?” He asks through heaving breaths, eyes reflecting how on fire he is for you, practically pinning you to the bed. “Tell me what you are.” 

“Your- fuck Jack!” He changes his rhythm on you just slightly and it has you stuttering. “Your, your wife.” Tears of pleasure start to burn behind your eyes.

“Good girl,” he praises you, words pulling a loud moan from you just like he knew they would. Jack fucks you with his whole body, hunched over and using his hips and back and thighs to drive himself into you, muscles rippling under your fingertips. He can’t get deep enough, can’t feel enough of you, can’t be close enough to you. “That’s fucking right you are. My wife. All fucking mine.” 

“Say it for me,” you plead with Jack, tears of pleasure finally dripping down the sides of your face. “Tell me what you are.” 

Jack laughs softly against your lips as he pulls your legs up around his waist to change the angle. “Your husband,” he rasps at your ear. “I’m your husband.”  

You whine as he says it, trail off into a breathy moan of his name. “Jack!” Your nails claw into his skin, leaving trails of red marks in their wake as one hand slides down his back and the other up his ass cheek to his hip, pulling a choked groan from the back of Jack’s throat. “I’m so close. So close baby, please!” It’s not often you call him baby, and something about the word always makes him short circuit a bit. 

He picks his pace up, snaps his hips a bit harder, sucking and nibbling at your neck as he buries his face there for a moment as he gets lost in the feeling of you, breath hot against your skin. Fucking you and making love to you is always mindblowing, but this is different, this has an edge, for both of you. Because you’re married. Because it feels like your first time all over again in a way. 

“Just like that, yes! Don’t stop!” you moan, voice high-pitched and breathy.

Jack’s just as desperate for your orgasm as you are, breath heavy and hot against your lips. “Come for me Doll, come for me.” Jack’s voice is strained with his desperation, hips driving him into you over and over while his fingers circle your clit. “Come on my cock, come on your husband’s cock. Make me come.” 

“I will, I will,” you cry for him, eyes fluttering closed and sending more tears down your face as the pleasure overwhelms you and builds to a breaking point.

“Look at me,” Jack pants, voice cracking on the last word. “Look at me while you come for your husband.” You force your eyes open and Jack’s staring down at you intensely. “Be my good little wife and come for me.”

His command and the way he’s looking at you like he needs you so desperately he’d do anything for you, like you’re the only thing that matters, like the most beautiful and precious thing to him that he has to protect, and like he needs this, you to come, are more than enough to make you shatter beneath him.

“Jack!” You get a single cry of his name out before all words fall out of your mind, completely overwhelmed by Jack, by your husband, as your orgasm sears through what feels like every nerve in your body. Your nails drag along Jack’s back so hard you might have broken skin in a few places but he doesn’t care, it just shoves him closer to the edge. “Oh fuck Jack, please!” you moan once words return, again unsure of what you’re begging him for.

“Shit! So fucking tight”! Jack struggles to hold himself off, does only for thirty or so seconds so that he can drink in your face as you come for him while he fucks you through it. “My wife’s so fucking tight, so fucking wet for me.” He pulls his hand away from your clit before you hit painful overstimulation. “Fuck, Doll, I’m gonna come, pussy’s squeezing me so tight, gonna come for you, fill you up, and you’ll be so good for me and take it all.” He starts to babble and his hips start to falter, a clear sign he’s right at the edge. 

“Come for me Jack,” you purr at him, hands threading back into his hair and tugging at the root just to give him a little shock of pain opposite the pleasure how you know he loves. You’re looking at Jack much the same as he looked at you, like you love him so much it hurts sometimes, like you’d walk straight through a wall of flames for him. Your love overwhelms him, you overwhelm him. And then you say it as a soft moan and he’s gone. “Come for your wife.”

Jack comes with the most erotic, carnal groan of your name that you’ve ever heard from him. His orgasm rips through him, tears through him so intensely it steals his breath for a moment before a slurry of curse words and my wife and so perfect fall off his tongue like a hymn he’s composed just for you. His hips still but you roll yours up against him and clench around him deliberately. “Fucking shit, Doll! Fuck!” Jack groans, voice and neck and face strained as you prolong his orgasm, somehow pull a bit more cum from him. 

“Feels so good when you come in me,” you hum all pleasure-drunk and breathy at Jack. Your face matches your voice. You look so fucked out and beautiful below him, his girl. His woman. His wife. 

“Oh fuck!” Jack grunts, a shiver running up his spine hard as an aftershock hits him. “Fuck, Doll, you’re so fucking good.” He collapses on top of you carefully. 

You tremble under him a little, arms and legs wrapping around him and holding him to you tight. “You’re not so bad yourself, Dr. Abbot.” It’s almost a little slurred as you come back down from your orgasm.

Another shiver races up Jack’s spine at doctor. “Never had a title kink before you.” His lips brush against your chest as he speaks before nuzzling against you. It’s not the first time he’s told you that, but you still love to hear it.

You can only hum in acknowledgment, let your hands find his hair and run through his curls, scratch at his scalp intermittently. The two of you lay there in a comfortable silence, murmuring soft words to each other. Jack nuzzles into you and kisses at your chest wherever he can reach, enjoys listening to your heartbeat and how it slowly returns to something closer to normal. 

After a while Jack nuzzles into your chest one last time before pulling his head up. You open your eyes knowing he’ll be looking down at you. He’s smiling when he comes into focus. “How’s my wife?”

“I’m pretty fucking great,” you murmur, blissed out smile on your face. “Feeling very, very well and thoroughly fucked by my husband. A little sleepy.” You bring your hand up and run your fingers through Jack’s curls, push back a few that sweat has stuck to his forehead. “How’s my husband?”

Jack chuckles at you. You’re so adorable when you’re all fucked out like this. “Oh, I’m pretty fucking great too, Doll.” He leans down and kisses you. “Feeling very, very lucky to call you my wife. And I’m with you on the sleepy.” 

You already know what he’s going to say based on the look on his face. “No!” you whine, wrap your arms and legs around him tight. “Let’s just stay right here. It’ll be fine this one time, we can just curl up like this and fall asleep.”

Jack laughs and shakes his head at you. “I’m not sure now’s the time to risk it, baby. You don’t want to start our honeymoon with a UTI.” He takes another kiss. “And we both know you’ll be upset with yourself in the morning if you don’t take all your makeup off. Plus I should really wipe the lipstick off.” 

You groan but loosen your grip on him when he pulls away, both of you hissing a little as he slips out of you. Jack holds his hands out for you and helps you up and off the bed. His hands find a hip and your waist quickly once you’re standing, ready to grab you and keep you from falling if your legs are too weak. You lean into him for just a second while you get your legs steady back under you and then nod at Jack. 

He keeps an arm around your waist anyway, just to keep you close. You realize step into the bathroom and Jack flicks the light on, leads you over to the toilet. He walks to the sink as you go to the bathroom, wetting a washcloth and wiping the lipstick from his skin. 

You join him when you’re done, washing your hands as he washes his face. You make a face of consideration as he pats his face dry. “I could just leave it for one night, I’m tired.”

Jack shakes his head at you and you know he’s right, you’re just not in the mood. It’s been a long day and you just want to curl up in bed with your husband. Jack puts a towel on the sink counter, and pats it. “Up.” 

You debate fighting him because you know what’s about to happen. But you also know that Jack loves this part and it’s not something that happens frequently because you normally take your makeup off as soon as you get home. You slide yourself onto the towel as Jack pulls out your makeup remover wipes from the toiletry bag you packed. “Probably going to have to scrub pretty good,” you tell him, “she used the good setting spray.” 

Jack nods as he starts to wipe your face. “Very good setting spray,” he notes absentmindedly as he works. He does have to use more pressure than normal. “Tell me if I start hurting you.” 

“I will, but you won’t.” You give him a sleepy smile and Jack’s heart aches with how cute you are. 

Once he’s gotten everything off your face he’s weary as he eyes your lashes. “Are these the lashes designed to stay on or? How do I get them off?”

“You’re so cute,” you giggle at him, beaming at him because they’re such Jack questions. He’s always curious, especially when it comes to you and things he can do to take care of you. 

“What?” he drags the word out. “I don’t want to accidentally rip off all your eyelashes!”

“I know, you’re just the cutest, wanting to know. Caring enough to want to know.” You push your lips out and he gives you the quick kiss you’re seeking. “These ones aren’t designed to stay on, no. There’s some cotton balls and makeup remover in the bag. Just put some on two of them and hold them on for a minute and they should peel right off.”

“Can do, Doll.” Jack nods. He does and goes to take them off but hesitates. “Okay, maybe you should at least do one. So I can see.” 

Even with your eyes closed you smirk. “See one, do one, teach one?” Jack huffs at you and you know he’s rolling his eyes. “You have to admit that was pretty good.” You slowly peel one off. 

“It was,” Jack agrees with fake begrudging. He loves it. Loves how you listen and really take in what he says whether it’s when he’s directly speaking to you or if you happen to be watching him from just within earshot at work. “Okay. Please tell me if you feel me pulling your actual lashes.” 

“Were you this scared when you first did sutures on someone?” 

“Doll.”

“Yes, yes I’ll tell you,” you reassure him.

“Okay.” Jack grabs the other lash and pulls it off without issue, like you knew he would. 

“See? Nothing to it.” You squint at him to avoid getting the makeup remover in your eyes. “We’ll make you a makeup artist yet, Peter.” Your squinting kills any power the smirk you try to give him might have had.

He ignores your comment with a little shake of his head and smile. “To answer your question, no, I wasn’t because you spend time practicing on fake skin before you go to a real human.”

You hum at him and slip off the counter. It’s going to be easier and quicker for you to wash your face and brush your teeth. “Thank you. For taking my makeup off and learning about eyelashes for me. I love you.” You wrap your arms around the middle of him and rest your head on his chest. 

“Always, Doll.” Jack bows his head and leans a little to press his lips to the top of your head. “And I love you too.” 

The two of you stand like that for a moment before you pull away and quickly wash your face before you and Jack brush your teeth at the same time. You say fuck it to your skin care for one night and just put some face lotion on, offer some to Jack. Once you’re done Jack turns around and after a second you do too. 

Your stomach drops a little. “Oh my god Jack!” His back is covered in scratches from your nails that are really more raised welts at this point. It looks incredibly painful and your head starts to spin because you feel so bad for doing that to him.

“What?” He spins quickly, brows furrowed and lips pulled down, concern all over his face. 

“Your back! That’s what!” You gesture with your finger and he spins for you again. “Jack, it has to hurt. Why didn’t you say anything?”

He turns back to look at you. He doesn’t like your expression, the sadness in your eyes and your frown and the way your brows are furrowed so close together. You’re upset and Jack can tell your mind is starting to swirl. “Hey, hey hey. I promise you I didn’t even notice. I promise. I wouldn’t have even known if you hadn’t said anything.”

“But Jack, it’s bad. I did a good number to you. They’re welts, not just scratches.” Your frown deepens. 

He steps closer to you and cups your face with his hands. “Doll, I promise you it felt so fucking good when you were making them in the moment but they haven’t bothered me at all since.” 

“You promise?” you whisper. You know he would never lie to you and you can see the earnestness in his eyes. It slows your mind, as do his hands holding your face.

“I promise.” He nods. His eyes drop to your neck and chest, hands letting go of your face. “Have you really looked in the mirror yet Doll?”

“Kind of?” Your brows are still drawn together but Jack’s relieved it’s in confusion this time and that your upset has faded. 

“You should. Because I did a good number on your neck and chest too,” Jack grimaces a little. “And it feels much worse than some scratches now that I’m really looking at them.”

You turn and look in the mirror. “Oh,” you breathe. Jack’s head starts to spin now. But then a smile grows on your face. “I love this.” You run your fingertips over some of them. 

“What?” Jack gives a small incredulous laugh. 

You turn around to look at him and see the way he’s still spinning out a little like you were. “Jack, I love this shit. I love wearing your marks. And you gave me them as my husband and I get to have them on our honeymoon.”

“They’ll darken and be worse tomorrow.” He still eyes you a little wearily. 

You meet his eyes in the mirror, can see he’s still spinning out a little like you were. “Good. I hope they get darker the day after that.”

“Yeah?” It’s the same as you asking if he promised. He knows you wouldn’t lie and can tell you’re not but he just needs to hear it again. 

“Yeah.” You nod with a small smile. “Very fucking yeah.”

That makes him crack a smile, yours widening in turn, his mind slowing. You turn back to face him. “Are they going to be all on display for the honeymoon?” You press yourself up against him. 

Jack laughs. You’re trying to get a hint as to where you’re going on your honeymoon, hoping he’ll answer and it’ll give you insight as to whether you’ll be spending a lot of time with your chest not covered by a shirt in a swimsuit. 

He gives you a self-satisfied grin and you start pouting before he even says anything. “That’s for me to know and you to find out babygirl.”

You roll your eyes at him affectionately but it turns into a big yawn that has you covering your mouth. Jack laughs softly. “Come on sleepy girl, lets get into bed.” He fights back his own yawn while following you as you walk back to bed, flicking the light off. 

You climb in under the covers while Jack sits on the edge of the bed and takes his prosthetic off. Once it’s off he flips the lamp off and slides in beside you, hands on your waist and pulling you close as you move toward him. You snuggle together on your sides, limbs tangling as you get as close as possible while still able to see each other. “Hi handsome.” You smile up at Jack and kiss up his chest and neck to his lips. 

“Hi beautiful,” Jack murmurs against your lips. “My beautiful wife. Today was pretty perfect.” Jack takes another couple of kisses from you before pulling away and looking back at you. He swallows thickly. “A little surreal. We’re married.” He’s not dwelling, he’s really not.

But Jack lived in a world where he never even got to ask you to marry him, where he wore his dress blues not to wait for you at the end of an aisle on an altar but to watch them lower you six feet into the ground, even if it was only in his mind. He just has to acknowledge it one last time. It makes him appreciate this, appreciate you all the more. 

“Sure was. My handsome husband.” You giggle against Jack’s lips. “But it’s real. We’re married.” You look at Jack and smile as he smiles back at you. 

Your smiles and crinkles in the corners of your eyes say everything to each other. Thank you, you’re perfect, you’re my best friend and soulmate and the love of my life, you’re my everything, my whole world and my home, I meant every word I said today and will be faithful to the vows we took. I love you. 

Your eyelids get heavy fast as Jack’s warmth seeps into you, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. You can only fight it for so long as it gets harder and harder to open your eyes with every slow blink. There’s so much you want to say to him even now at the end of your wedding day when it feels like you’ve already said it all to each other. But there’s no way you’ll get anything coherent out. So you kiss Jack one more time and settle for the words you hope convey it all.

“I love you, Peter.” 

Jack hums a little laugh to himself because you’re adorable and precious and beautiful and his. His wife.

“I love you more, Doll.”

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

If you made it this far, again, thank you so so much! I hope you enjoyed this part and the series. As much as this is the end of the kind of main story, I don’t think this is truly the end for them. Certainly I have a whole list of other ideas that I’d like to work through first, but I have a couple of ideas for shorter one-shot style fics for these two. If you have anything in particular you'd like to see from them feel free to drop me a note wherever!! And I would love to hear your comments and thoughts on Part 5 and their ending!♥️

Quiet Part 2 is up next. I should have more free time this week and don't plan on making those parts as long so hopefully something will be out towards the end of the week!

Also, a huge huge shoutout to @loveyhoneydovey for beta-ing at times, talking me off a thousand ledges per part, and listening to me go on and on about these two and different ideas. This story is better because of your help. ♥️

Want more Jack? Find my masterlist here!

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[cloudedangels]

Dr’s Orders 18+

⋆⁺₊❅。

You (f reader) are ovulating, but you can't bring yourself to request what you really need… Dr. Zayne has a treatment plan for that... luckily! ● ≈4,025 words ughggh ● probably needs proofreading ● adult!!! ● mdni!!!

Tags and cw: ovulation!: the plot device, zayne, dr zayne cures you of your horny disease kinda, piv, oral (f receiving), mostly sex no plot, in the hospital of all places!, creampie, multiple rounds, fingering, established relationship implied, self indulgent smut— you know the drill

a/n: this SUCKED to write omg omg im freee you can probably tell my sauce was running out... this mostly SUCKED to write bc I am on my period a week and a half early (???) & I have 1 endometriosis (,: this is also my first time writing zayne which i hope gets better bc he's my pretty lil baby, I need him [redacted].

Go bunnie.

▪︎ next up:

☆caleb's very late birthday fic

☆extended leave pt six

☆hubby!zayne drabble

vibrator series pt 3 and pt 4

⋆⁺₊❅。

⋆⁺₊❅。⋆⁺₊❅。⋆⁺₊❅。⋆⁺₊❅。

Zayne isn’t blind.

He sees the way your legs cross tighter than usual, the way your hand lingers too long on the hem of your sleeve, picking at threads like you're trying not to crawl out of your skin.

You’d stared at the closed door to his office ten times today. Every time you almost knocked, your throat had closed up. Your fingers fiddle with the edge of your sleeve again, tugging it just a little too hard until it bunches in your palm. The scent of antiseptic clings to the air, mixing with your own faint perfume, and it makes your stomach twist like a knot you can’t undo.

You'll just sit in his office and wait for him to get off as always.

And... when you see him, you're all off.

Zayne however… he knows exactly what day it is. Five days post-period. Right on schedule. He does the math in his head because, well, of course he does. He’s a surgeon. He keeps track of things.

He doesn’t mention it, not aloud. He just watches you try to wrestle yourself into stillness like you're trying to outwit your own body. He can feel it in the air—how needy you are, how tightly wound. You think you're subtle, but Zayne knows tension better than most. He lives in it and operates through it. And you're practically vibrating with it. The sterile, slightly cold office smells faintly of antiseptic and leather. Outside, the dull hum of hospital noises lingers beyond the closed door.

You won’t ask him. Not directly. Maybe you think you’re being polite. Maybe you're afraid he’ll be embarrassed. But he’s not the one squirming in a rolling chair in his office, trying to fight biology and failing.

Still, you don’t ask. You want to ask, but your voice feels small, unsure. You’ve always tried not to be a bother, this relationship is only recently sexual... but now, not asking feels like self-denial. But you can't.

So he shifts his strategy. If you won't ask him, shouldn't he ask you for a favor? That'd work wouldn't it?

He’s quiet for too long. Not in the usual way. In the way that makes your stomach twist. He’s calculating something, staring at your lips like they hold some equation he hasn’t quite solved. You feel it before he speaks—something shifting in him. Something about to snap loose? He flushes as he turns to you, words falling out like dominos.

“I need to finger you.”

His words hang in the air, clinical but sudden... like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. His jaw's tightening briefly, a twitch of the muscle betraying the calm he’s trying to maintain. His eyes flicker down to your lips like he’s memorizing their shape… a calculation paused mid-equation.

You blink. “What?”

Your heart hammers a little faster. You want to protest, but your throat feels dry and thick, and your body answers before your brain can catch up. There's heat pooling low and insistent.

Zayne clears his throat lightly, deadpan as ever. “Desperately. I'm, ah—struggling. It’s been difficult to focus. All I can think about is the sound you make when you come. So.” He tilts his head slightly. “This is for medical reasons. Mine. Urgent.”

You're trying to make sense of this, he's usually so much more put together than this… you're so horny you don't want to deny him but… You’ve never heard him stumble like this—not even when talking you through surgical risks or listing medications. Zayne is precision incarnate. So when his voice falters, it knocks the air out of you.

“I mean… if you want, I could give you—”

“No.” He cuts you off, eyes narrowing slightly. The room seems to shrink around you. The hum of the fluorescent light overhead blurs into a steady drone as your pulse hammers in your ears. His steady gaze pins you in place, and your breath catches.

“I’m not joking. The only thing that's going to help me is your thighs on my shoulders and my fingers inside you. Repeatedly. I need to make you come, and I need to taste you while I do it. That’s the only thing that’s going to help.”

You stare at him, throat dry. “You... need... that.”

“Yes,” he says, perfectly serious. “Badly. Like, clinically.”

A beat passes. Then another.

“You’re—” you try to say something clever, but it falls flat against the heat surging in your gut.

“I’m what?” he murmurs, stepping closer. “Depraved? Professional? Pathetic?”

You whisper, “Perfect.”

Zayne exhales once through his nose, the closest he gets to smiling when he’s trying not to lose composure. There’s a twitch in the corner of his mouth, and his hand comes up—Hesitant and precise, it brushes your cheek.

“So it’s alright, then?” he says, voice softer now. “If I... lose control. Just a little… With you...”

You nod before he even finishes the sentence.

And just like that, your quiet, unbearable need—masked in silence and polite restraint—crashes into his own. His eyes flicker with something unreadable—pain, longing, something deeper. For a moment, neither of you move. Then, slow and deliberate, his fingers curl around your wrist, pulling you closer. The sharp tang of antiseptic mingles with the warm, powdery scent of his cologne, a strange but intoxicating combination that makes your breath hitch.

His lips press into yours soft and patient, and with the easy state you're in, you're already letting out a soft whimper when he kisses you with such gentleness... touches you with such wanting. You're caving into him as he pulls back, begging silently for more of his lips and the powdery scent of his cologne.

He sinks to his knees, not because you asked, but because he did. Thank God.

You’re still blinking down at him, standing with your breath shallowed, as if waiting for him to laugh and walk out. But he doesn’t. He just reaches—fingers confident, deliberate—and taps once against your knee.

“Up,” he says softly. “Come on. Be good for me. Legs over the exam table.”

You obey because you always do. But also because the way he looks at you—precise, studied, patient—makes disobedience feel impossible. Punishable, even. You scoot back on the padded surface, letting your legs fall apart, and you swear his pupils dilate just slightly.

The paper beneath your thighs crinkles loudly—embarrassingly—like it dislikes what you’re doing. The scent of antiseptic cuts through the heat in your blood. Even your shirt feels too tight, too rough. The overhead lights hum, too bright, too sterile. You feel exposed and examined. Everything feels like too much… except him.

He hums. It’s not amusement, not quite. It’s approval.

“Perfect positioning. Should’ve let me do this days ago. You’re—” He clicks his tongue once. “Edging into clinical negligence, keeping me from a treatment this vital.”

His hands are warm. Sterile. Methodical. He touches you like he’s mapping nerve endings. His thumbs press into the crease of your thighs, spreading you further. He studies you like you’re a case study, a problem he already knows how to solve but enjoys solving again anyway.

You're shaking. “And this… is... for you?” You mutter, a whisper of disbelief mixed with pleasure.

“Yes. Yes, and I want you to know,” he murmurs as he leans in, “that I’m not improvising. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Thoroughly.”

Then he licks. Just once—slow, flat-tongued, exploratory. You jerk. He doesn’t flinch. Just shifts closer.

“Mhm,” he murmurs clinically, like he’s tasting for acidity in a dish. “As suspected.”

Another swipe. This time more pressure, more purpose. His hands keep you open, one sliding up to rest gently over your abdomen, steadying you. He moans low in his throat—not theatrical, not showy. A slip of sound, as if he forgot he could be heard.

“You’re already so sensitive,” he mutters, kissing you now, more deliberately. “This’ll take a while. Let me work. I will get everything I need from you soon enough.”

His tongue moves in slow, studied patterns. Up. Down. Spiral. Pause. A flick. A suck. He’s collecting data—what makes you twitch, what makes you sigh, what makes you gasp and grab at the table’s edges. Every time you make a sound, he shifts technique slightly. Filing it away. Adjusting. Repeating.

He doesn’t speak much. When he does, it’s all under his breath—clinical, praising, a little condescending, always devoted.

“There you go. That’s it.”

“More of that, Yes?”

“Don’t hold your breath so much. Let it happen.”

When you finally whimper out a guttural, cracked open sound, he looks up. His lips and chin glisten as he simply says, “Good. That’s one.”

As if you’re just getting started. (Because you are.) He doesn’t let up. Not even close.

He pushes in slow, deliberate. Controlled. Like he’s watching a monitor for vitals, measuring every reaction, every tremor in your body.

You gasp, nails curling against the padded table. He groans softly—a man adjusting to pressure, to heat, to you.

“God,” you whisper, already clenching. “I needed this. I—fuck, Zayne, I needed this so bad—”

“I can tell,” he murmurs, calm as ever, even as his hips settle flush against yours. “Should’ve said something sooner.”

You moan, full of frustration and want and something dangerously close to tears.

“I couldn’t. I didn’t wanna be—” You break off, panting. “Didn’t wanna bother you.”

He stills inside you. Eyes sharp. Lips parted. And then he exhales—long and quiet, like he’s biting back some deeper emotion. Maybe regret. Maybe guilt.

“You’re not a bother,” he says, low. “You never are.”

His hips roll just slightly, testing, coaxing, sending heat racing up your spine.

“If anything...” His hand slides up your side, over your ribs, soothing, grounding. “I should’ve made time for this earlier. This…” he thrusts a little deeper, “...this seems like an urgent need.”

You whimper under him. “Zayne, I—fuck, I want—”

“What do you want?”

Your face burns. Your voice shakes. But you can’t keep it in anymore.

“I want you… you to breed me... please.”

The silence after is thick.

He’s still.

Something unravels in his expression then. It’s not just arousal—it’s longing. A wish he hadn’t let himself form until you gave it voice, like he almost wants your regret. But he nods, like that need—raw, hormonal, messy—isn’t foreign to him. Like it’s the same one clawing up his own spine.

Then, slowly—gently—he fucks into you harder. Once. Twice.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “That’s what this is about...”

You’re babbling now, eyes glassy, breath hitching.

“I—I want it. I want to feel full, I want you to come inside, I want to know it’s yours—even if it’s stupid, even if it’s just my body wanting—I don’t care, I need it, please—”

Zayne brushes a hand over your cheek, thumb catching your tears before they can fall.

“It’s not stupid.”

His voice is calm. Assured. Loving in a way that makes your chest ache.

“You’re ovulating. Your hormones are spiking. Your body’s wired for this. And you’re safe with me.”

He leans over you, mouth brushing your ear.

“Anything you ever need,” he murmurs, voice rough now, strained with emotion and restraint, “you can ask me for it. Anything.”

He pulls almost all the way out, then pushes in deep—slow, worshipping.

“Especially this.”

You cry out for him again, voice cracking, and he just keeps moving, steady and full, fucking you like it’s a promise. His body warm, his voice steady, his heart loud in your ear.

“You feel so good… you wanna be bred, my love?” he whispers. “I’ll give you everything. Fill you up so deep your body won’t know anything else but mine. I like being the only one… who can fix this… problem for you.”

That's spins you undone, and when you come again—hard, sobbing his name, clenching around him like your body’s trying to keep him inside—he follows: gasping once, then going silent as he spills into you, deep and long, trembling.

Helping.

Fixing the problem.

He stays inside you for a while. Long enough that the tremble in your thighs evens out, that the ache in your belly softens from frantic to full. His hand is on your hip, steady, his breath slowing against your neck. You feel him soften inside you, but he doesn’t move to pull out, he just wraps his hand around your thigh, thumb tracing light circles. It’s as if he is still measuring your pulse through your skin.

You’re dazed. Fucked open and flushed and barely remembering where you are. He presses a kiss just below your ear. Quiet and close.

“Still with me?” he murmurs, one hand stroking your thigh like he’s grounding both of you. “Let me know if you’re dizzy. I got you.”

You nod, finally feeling like you can think with more than that warm beat between your thighs.

“…Fixed it,” he murmurs after a moment.

You let out a small, breathless laugh. “That was your treatment plan?”

“Highly effective,” he says, deadpan. “Minimal side effects. Patient satisfaction… presumed high.”

You hum and blink up at him, lips still parted. He’s looking at you, really looking, and not in the way doctors are trained to. There’s nothing detached about it now.

Then, with that surgeon’s steadiness, he pulls out slowly—so careful it makes you ache all over again—and reaches for the drawer on the wall behind you. Pulls out a warm towel like this is just another cleanup post-op.

You twitch when he touches you. Sensitive. Spent. He murmurs a soft apology, even as his hands stay precise, wiping you clean with unhurried tenderness.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” you whisper.

He glances at you. “You didn’t ask. So I had to improvise.”

You smile faintly. “You’re not mad I didn’t say anything?”

He tosses the towel aside. “I’m not mad.”

Then, more softly:

“However…I just wish you trusted me to help you. Even with this. Especially with this.”

His hand brushes your thigh again, this time more to comfort than assess. “You never have to handle it alone.”

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly thick.

“I didn’t know how,” you say.

“I’ll teach you,” Zayne murmurs. “Next time, say what you need. I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of you. Maybe not of everything but… what I can.”

You nod, quiet.

Then he leans in again, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. A prescription written into the touch of your skin.

And beneath it all, his voice—calm, knowing, clinical as ever:

“This appointment is incomplete, but before I continue, let's plan? Follow-up appointment… same time next cycle?”

He’s hardening again, the heat of him pressing against you, but his lips stay impossibly soft where they meet your skin. His fingers glide over you with such careful tenderness it almost aches, like he’s afraid to break something fragile inside you. His breath stutters in his throat, and when he finally looks up at you, his eyes are full of something quiet, something desperate.

“What do you want?” he asks, voice low and steady, his fingers curling around yours as if to anchor your body to him.

You swallow, heart pounding in your chest, the moment making your voice shaky. “Please… don’t stop. Not yet. Let me have this—let me have you—while you’re here, before you go back to work... before the surgeries take you away again.”

He nods slowly, swallowing hard, as if hearing that pulls something out of him. You’re full of his cum, in his office, and yet still... you want more.

“I want to care for you,” he says softly, almost like a prayer. “Let me take care of you—let me make you feel okay…”

Your breath catches, your eyes stinging. There's something in his voice—something soft, like you're worshipped. It undoes you. You nod, too overcome to speak, and he leans in to kiss you again, slower this time. A worshipful kind of kiss, one that tells you that he means it. All of it.

His hand slides between your legs, gentle, deliberate. He murmurs something you don’t catch against your cheek, and then his fingers are inside you—slow, coaxing, curling just right—and the stretch pulls a gasp from your throat.

“You’re still so wet,” he whispers, half in awe. “Still so full of my seed… and you want more?”

You whimper, your head tipping back against the couch. The way he touches you now feels different—like it’s not just about pleasure anymore, but about memory. Preservation.

“I don’t wanna forget how you feel,” he says, thumb brushing over your clit in slow, hypnotic circles. Your hips twitch under his hand, overwhelmed by the desire he builds in you. It's all too much—his voice, his touch, the heat of his body wrapped around yours—but you don’t want him to stop. God, you never want him to stop.

“I won’t let you,” you breathe. “I’ll remember for both of us.”

His mouth is on you again, but not your lips this time—his head drops lower, kissing a trail down your sternum, your stomach, until he’s kneeling between your legs.

“I want to taste you,” he says, voice rough with need. “Let me show you how good you are. How much I want you…You're doing me a favor really…”

He slips his fingers deeper, slow, deliberate, curling gently as he watches your breath hitch. You’re trembling under his touch, the way you’re spread out like a secret made just for him. His mouth moves close, breath hot against your skin.

“You’re the softest, sweetest flower,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with something between awe and need. “And I’m the luckiest man, right here, right now.”

His fingers flex inside you, teasing the spots that make you catch your breath and squeeze your thighs tight. Even after he’s already filled you once, the way he strokes and presses—there’s no doubt his desire is just as alive as yours, hungry and aching. He’s hard beneath you, the heat pressing close as he lets you feel it, a teasing promise of everything he wants.

“I told you it was for me,” he breathes, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “But really... this? It’s for both of us.” His hips shift, grinding slowly against you, the movement sending a new wave of fire through your body.

He leans down, mouth tracing a slow, burning path from your collarbone to your shoulder, lips parting just to whisper, “You make me need you. God, you make me need you so bad.”

His hands tighten around your hips as he pulls you just a little closer, filling the space between you with a quiet, fierce hunger. His fingers don’t stop, circling, curling, coaxing your body to respond again and again.

“Keep still for me,” he commands softly, voice rough like he’s holding back something fierce. “You’re mine right now. Every sigh, every shiver... it’s mine to take… I will be… your medicine…”

You’re gasping by the time he lowers his head again, mouth capturing yours in a deep, consuming kiss, and the taste of him—wanting, claiming—makes you lose the last grip you had on control.

His body is all fire and weight pressing down on you, filling the spaces inside you you didn’t even know were empty until now.

“More,” he whispers between kisses. “Always more.”

And you’re his, completely. The ache inside you answered at last.

His rhythm builds, fingers still buried deep while his other hand cradles your face—thumb brushing slow circles across your cheek, grounding you in the chaos he’s coaxing from your body. Every stroke inside you is purposeful, practiced, but full of reverence, like he’s trying to memorize you from the inside out.

“Look at me,” he says, not quite a whisper, not quite a command. Just enough to send heat licking down your spine. “I want to see you when you come undone.”

And you do—eyes wide and glassy, lashes fluttering as your breath stutters. The sight of you like this makes him groan, low and hoarse, hips jerking just slightly, betraying how close he is to the edge too, even though he hasn’t taken you fully again yet.

His fingers still, just enough to make you whimper. He presses a kiss to your jaw, then your mouth, as if that could quiet the ache.

“I could live here,” he murmurs into your lips. “Right here, inside you, around you... forever.”

Then he shifts, slow and careful, pulling his fingers free with a wet sound that makes your whole body tighten. He holds your gaze as he brings those same fingers to his mouth, tongue curling around them with a filthy sort of tenderness, eyes half-lidded, like tasting you is sacred.

“You, my dear, officially drive me undeniably insane,” he says, voice wrecked with want. “And I don’t wanna be sane again. Not so soon...”

When he finally sinks into you, it’s with a desperate groan that breaks right through you—thick and deep, every inch stretching you open like a promise. The burn is beautiful, the pressure perfect, and your body arches to meet him like it was made to.

He doesn’t rush. He moves—slow, rolling thrusts that keep you trembling, pinned under him and worshiped at once. His forehead presses to yours, sweat-slick and trembling, and for a moment he just stays there—buried inside you, eyes fluttering shut as your pulse thrums between you.

“You feel like heaven,” he breathes, and then again, “Mine.” Like he needs you to hear it more than once.

And when he starts to move in earnest, it’s with the kind of slow devastation that leaves nothing untouched. Every stroke drags a sound from your throat, every grind of his hips makes your legs shake. He’s whispering again, praise and filth mixing on his tongue:

“So tight for me. So fucking good, after this you'll learn to ask, okay? I could stay like this all night. Just you. Just us. I'll spend every break just like this, or with a mind filled with it.”

And maybe that’s exactly what you want too—him, again and again, until the world fades and all that’s left is the rhythm of his body in yours and the fire he keeps stoking, endless and aching.

He moves again, deeper this time, more sure. Not fast—not yet. But he rocks into you with the patience of a man obsessed with detail, addicted to the small shifts of your body around him, attuned to every gasp and flutter.

Your eyes roll back as you clench down, and he groans—sharp and breathless, the only crack in his otherwise impenetrable restraint.

“Fuck—tight,” he mutters, head bowing slightly. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let me feel it. That’s what I need.”

There’s nothing clinical in his voice now. It’s reverent. Hungry.

His hands are everywhere—on your hip, your thigh, pressed over your chest like he wants to memorize the stutter of your heart. You’ve never seen him like this—undone and focused, devoted. Not just having sex with you, but learning you, like you’re anatomy he wants to master, muscle and nerve and heat.

Your orgasm builds again—second? third? You’ve lost count—rising fast like a tidal wave you can’t hold back.

Zayne notices. Of course he does.

“You’re close.” It’s not a question. “Let it happen. You’re safe. You’re good. You’re mine to take care of.”

That breaks you.

You cry out, raw and sharp, body arching under him as you fall apart with a helpless sob. He takes all of it—every pulse and tremor—and doesn’t stop moving, like your pleasure is the only thing keeping him alive.

He presses his forehead to yours as you shake, still holding you, still inside.

You barely have breath to whisper it: “You really needed this?”

He laughs softly—warm, breathless, wrecked. “No... yes but,” he kisses your knuckles as he admits. “But you did.”

He kisses you—slow, deep, filled with a sweetness that makes your chest ache.

Then he adds, quiet and unshakable: “But I wanted to be the one who gave it to you.”

You blink up at him, throat tight.

“Was that... alright with you?” he asks softly. “Dr’s orders... and all.”

You smile, dazed. “Might need a follow-up appointment.”

His smirk—barely there, tired, pleased—makes your heart flutter.

“I’ll clear my schedule.” ⋆⁺₊❅。

MASTERLIST WITH ALL MY FICS

🐇my bunnies: ((comment or reblog with a 🐇 emoji to get added to the taglist for everything I write)): @starryeyed-apple @asiatic-apple

☃️snowflakes: ((just comment or reblog with a ☃️ emoji of you only want the Zayne fics only taglist)):

[luludeluluramblings]

SugarBaby!Reader (Neglected!Bat!Sibling) x Tony Stark - Falling in Love

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part Two

A/N: Someone wanted more fluff of this and I had thoughts about it last night. Tony isn’t my favorite, but I kinda wanted to challenge myself with this and see if I could try it writing some romance.

A/N: Smalltown!Reader is still coming. Pregnant!Reader will be getting a part 2 at some point. Might post another series, the one army dreamer inspired, because why not? Gonna have sooo many WIPs. But, maybe they’ll give y’all some delight.

Warnings: GN!Reader, Mentions of bedroom activities, fluffy, not edited, hardly anything Yandere. Intended to be

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

When you and Tony started dating it had been after he had wooed you at some gala. Something for a long forgotten charity. You had initially been hesitant, knowing his play boy reputation. The one so eerily similar to your father’s Brucie Wayne persona.

Still he was charming, good looking, and had convinced you that one night wouldn’t hurt.

And, it hadn’t. The next day when you were about to crawl out of bed and begin your walk of shame, he had dragged you back. Taking his time repeating the night before and with an encore.

By the time you had finally been allowed to leave the bed, your stomach had let out an embarrassing growl that made your cooling skin flush once more.

Of course, Tony wasn’t going to let anyone he spent such a good time with go hungry. Ordering the two of you room service and a giant spread of breakfast.

It’s in that moment things start to shift. You were a good lay for Tony. A young pretty little thing that was some of the best he had had in a while. (Due to him mellowing out with age, not that he’d ever admit that.) But, it’s the way you look at him, shyly and with such genuine gratitude just for him buying to brunch that makes him stop.

Not pause. Because pause means he’ll end up playing again. And, he’s fairly certain he’s done playing. Because, when you happily sit in his button down shirt, munching on the food he bought you, and listen to him talk about an old project (he wasn’t dumb enough to share anything new he’d been working on) with such bright eyes and enthusiasm he realizes this might be trouble for him. It’s even cuter because he knows you don’t understand a single thing he’s saying, but you’re trying. You’re trying so hard and it’s so cute.

It keeps going on like that. Passionate nights and slow talkative mornings that morph into date nights and fun trips and days lounging together. You’re still honestly convinced it could all end at any moment. Nothing good last in your life. And, despite how desperately you want this to last you know it probably won’t. Still you swear to hold on. To take everything he’ll offers. Even if it’s not much and he leaves you in the end. You’re going to appreciate how full and fulfilled her makes you feel.

For you, you fall in love slow and overtime. It a soft and startling realization when you realize you love Tony. You love him dearly and he could break your heart into a million pieces. But, it would be worth it.

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Loving him and waiting for him. To leave.

For Tony, it’s similar. He spoils you he does. He loves the way you look at him when he does. But, as he unknowingly starts to settle, the realization that he’s not showing you off in public as much anymore and that he enjoys just being near even when there’s nothing to talk about hits him in the chest. And, in a Tony Stark like fashion, he spirals for a bit.

It causes him to spend three full days in his lab avoiding the world and his problems. Not sleeping, hardly eating, ignoring Jarvis.

When he finally does emerge, he’s covered in sweat and grease. He aches. He’s tired. He’s irritable. His fully expecting you to be mad he missed your fancy date he had planned. But, when he looks up at you and see’s that exact same grateful look in your eyes, it clicks. You give him that same look of gratitude and adoration every time he does something for you. He’s not doing anything other than being here with you. And, that’s enough for you. You’re in love with him, and he’s in love with you. And your willing to love him as his is and with what ever he gives.

Tony doesn’t confess though. To cliche. Instead he proposes. With no ring, no plan, and covered in grease. But, completely serious. It isn’t long until you understand he really means it, that he wants you for you and you’re leaping in his arms crying, yes. Yes. And the. You tell him to shower, because despite the love you feel and your happiness, he smells ripe.

He chases you around instead, before dragging you into the shower with him.

It isn’t until you both have a small private court house ceremony and he’s dragging you on to a luxury honeymoon that he leans over and confesses. Casually. Like it was a stray fact.

“Oh, hey, by the way, I love you.”

It makes you squawk that he has the audacity to do such a thing, but you lean into him and say it back.

“I love you, too… Silly old man.”

“Hey! That’s not what you were saying when I-“

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You hadn’t even thought about you family with Tony. Hadn’t thought to invite them to the wedding. You did call Alfred as soon as you got back though. Telling him the good news with so much happiness that the old Bulter cried when the call ended. You had sounded radiant, and it broke his heart.

Broke his heart that no one in the family had seen just how beautiful your joy was and that they had never bothered to cause it.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Based off this ask.