#and apologized for giving her any other idea

[gunthermunch]

[Transcript under the cut]

Girlie: Dude I don’t do night shifts, I have no idea what you’re yapping about. We don’t even really tattoo past midnight. Max: okay then can I talk to any other degenerate that’s available to fix my mistakes? Girlie: …other than you? Max: dude Girlie: Thought we were on joking terms. He’s tattooing, he’s almost done tho so- Dude: SHIT!!!!! ?: Sorry!! Sorry. Max: hey you owe me a new wrist ?: uhhh [under his breath] I’m a little busy over here… Max: I’ll shake this cheap looking clearly thrifted portable massage table if you don’t cover the shit work you did on me last night right now ?:Alright that’s… ?:convincing. ?:hey do you think you can give me five? Dude: do i? ?:oh hi. You’re Billie’s friend. Yeah I suppose I do owe you a new wrist Max: …of course she knows you. ?: listen, I know it wasn’t very ethical of me to pour ink on you guys, but I owed her one. And to be fair… you two seemed very happy about getting those tattooed ?: So, how about a free cover up? Max: sounds good to me. But… ?: You like matching with her Max: …maybe. ?: Well, how about a… free tattoo? And an apology. Max: [sigh] yeah yeah, sounds great. ?: Atta boy Oscar: I’m Oscar, by the way. Pleased to meet you Max: Max. And you don’t do shit linework every time, right? Oscar: [chuckles] only on special occasions.

[platypus-brained]

Do you have any aroace Phineas headcanons? Or just in general? It's just this Phineas and Ferb revival renewed my fixation on this show and it caused me to re-evaluate some of the takes I used to have and developed after the show ended like wanting to see some new dynamics (like maybe seeing Vanessa, Stacy, and Perry all interacting together) or getting really into the aroace Phineas headcanons to explain his lack of interest in romance instead of him being dense. That one really resonated with me when I first saw it.

Thanks for the ask! You have come to the right blog! -> Here’s my Phineas headcanons post (you can also find some other headcanons underneath -> ❀primrose’s pnf headcanon❀ tag or -> #[ ]”> tag for all my original pnf posts)

And I definitely recommend checking out my friend @sharkbill for aroace Phineas content if you haven’t already! Anyway, I will not apologize for the can of worms (angst) you have opened

↓ My Aroace Phineas Headcanons/Ideas ↓

❀ Phineas doesn’t mind listening to “love songs” since he definitely seems like someone that would explore all music genres to broaden his musical knowledge

❀ Young Phineas was always confused when he saw kids his age play pretend by being “boyfriend and girlfriend,” or stuff like that. Mostly because he found pretending to be aliens and dinosaurs or aliens that look like dinosaurs so much more fun

❀ While kids can experience their first crush as early as Pre-school (which is considered a developmental milestone) young Phineas never had one. When adults asked, “Do you have a crush on anyone?” He’d respond with an eyebrow raised, “Aren’t I a little young for that?” And the adults would blink dumbly at him and awkwardly go, “Uhh, yes. Yes, you are.” (hate when adults ask little kids that)

❀ But since Candace is older, little Phineas had curiously asked his big sis, “What’s a crush like?” And Candace said, “Well, sometimes a crush literally CRUSHES you! But it also feels like butterflies in your stomach.” But this was the wrong thing to say to a toddler because the next time Phineas saw a butterfly he tried to eat it to see what “butterflies” felt like and Linda scolded Candace for putting the idea in his head (at least he didn’t try the other one about being crushed)

❀ When Phineas was in Elementary School the “young” excuse stopped being effective since crushes are more common during that age group. Baljeet in particular would talk the most about who he was crushing on, which earned him a lot of eye rolls and teasing “they’re out of your league” comments. But Phineas didn’t really have anything to add to those types of conversations. When they talked about who the “cutest” girl or boy was, he was always objective. Even Ferb had more to say than Phineas did and that was rare

❀ Phineas never had to desire to search for a girlfriend or boyfriend or soulmate because the relationships he already had with his friends and family fulfill that “requirement.” Especially, the bond he has with Ferb since despite being step-brothers they are cut from the same cloth. They’re “twins” without needing to be biological twins

❀ Teen Phineas had mixed feelings when he found out Isabella had a crush on him. She’s one of his best, closest friends and she’s already deeply intertwined in his life! He already enjoys spending time with her, whether it’s going on adventures around the world or just hanging out in the backyard. So he doesn’t say no to dating and being called her boyfriend

But when it starts going beyond that into “serious territory” and Phineas is expected to give Isabella all his attention that’s when things go south. Suddenly, Phineas can’t build anything with Ferb without feeling guilty that he’s doing that instead of going on a date with Isabella. He starts to unconsciously push both her and Ferb away. He’s not made for these “expectations” of putting one person over another and he feels like he’s been torn in half. Who’s more important? His brother or his girlfriend? But more importantly Phineas is already known to put the needs of others before his own

The dates that felt fun start to feel like obligations and Phineas gets frustrated and starts to snap at Isabella more and more often. When Isabella tries to hold his hand now, Phineas instinctively tenses or flinches away. He’s uncomfortable in his own skin and he doesn’t understand why because he loves Isabella! But does he love her in the way she and society seem to expect him to? He likes the kisses but they don’t give him butterflies in his stomach like Candace said they should...

Isabella immediately notices, don’t get her wrong. Phineas isn’t singing or humming like he used to. He’s not infodumping anymore. He goes quiet but not “Ferb quiet” it’s more like the quiet before the storm or like a bomb is about to go off. Neither of them really know what to do about it and they don’t talk it over because Phineas feels like he’s about to explode whenever he opens his mouth

❀ Phineas eventually builds a device to “fix” him because he starts to think that something’s wrong with him, that he’s b r o k e n. Why doesn’t he feel what Candace and Ferb feel? All three of them were raised by the same parents. So what’s he missing? Why the lack or insufficient amount of romantic interest? Why can’t he be the boyfriend that Isabella wants him to be?

The device sorta looks like a Cupid’s arrow and he points it at his chest, directly above his heart, trying to convince himself that he needs to do this to be “normal.” But… his hands won’t stop shaking and it feels more like a death sentence. Besides, he’s Phineas Flynn, “normal” isn’t in his vocabulary! He can build a rocket and so much more with his eyes closed! With that thought in mind, Phineas snaps it in half instead of using it and expects to feel relieved!

But he just feels mentally/emotionally empty and drained. He’s been feeling like that for a long time now. When Ferb walks into the room, he finds a distraught, crying Phineas. Ferb looks at the broken device and immediately pieces together what just happened. Because Ferb understands Phineas better than anyone and they have a long conversation about it before having an even longer conversation with Isabella

[batsandbirdbrains]

so I was wondering if you could do something where nobody realizes how much Dick hates Talia if they knew at all but then something happens so people find out/learn the full extent of Dick’s hate toward her how it’s not a little dislike but he hates her with a burning passion maybe they find out when the JL recruit some villains to help stop some big threat and they’re paired together and outwards he has zero reaction but internally he is freaking out like full blown meltdown because it’s Talia like I hate her so much plz anyone but her and then after the Thing is handled people find Nightwing in Talia Al Ghul in a full blown screaming match about who knows what nasty insults are thrown on both sides nobodies seen Nightwing like this either ever or in a really long time

on another note I think your amazing like these ideas are so good

Okay but imagine the hatred is very mutual. They both despise each other. It started when Bruce first took Dick in, because he’d been on and off with Talia for years. And Talia hated that Bruce committed to a child but not to her. A child who isn’t even his blood.

She told Dick from the moment they first met that one day she would marry Bruce, and she’d ship Dick off to boarding school the first chance she got. That she’d have a real child with Bruce, and Bruce would forget all about Dick. That Dick was a fleeting fancy and soon enough, Bruce would be done playing with his new toy.

And Dick is nothing if not petty. He becomes a stage 5 clinger with Bruce, never letting go, making Bruce carry him, hold him, play with him. He screams and cries and begs if Bruce doesn’t stay with him. And Bruce is so freaked out, so worried, so afraid of screwing up Dick’s childhood that he gives in to any little request. He carries Dick around everywhere. They’re always holding hands. Dick barely gives him a moment’s peace.

And after a gala where Talia managed to get Dick alone long enough to threaten him (again), Dick is now resting snugly in Bruce’s arms, his own arms wrapped around Bruce’s neck, and he sends a cheeky little wave at Talia as they’re leaving. Then he quickly follows it up with making the rudest faces and gestures towards her, but no one else is around to see it. No one will ever believe her.

They both drive each other nuts.

Fast forward several years, and the JL is teaming up with a few rogues for whatever reason. And Nightwing and Talia get paired up. They’re outwardly pleasant, but they’re both saying horrible things to each other under the breath when everyone is distracted.

Then they get back, and even though their part arguably went the smoothest, they enter the Watchtower just screaming at each other.

“You’re an evil fucking bitch, you know that?” he snaps. “I’m still not entirely convinced Damian is even yours, no way a kid like that came from a wicked witch like you!”

“You will not speak of my son, you little circus rat!”

“You’re just jealous he likes me better! Just like B; that really must grind your gears, always coming in second place to such a rotten little interloper like myself. Isn’t that what you always called me?”

“I ought to pull your intestines out through your bellybutton and hang you with them.”

“I’d like to see you try!”

Their argument devolves into name calling, shouting, rude gestures, and Nightwing actually sticking his tongue out at her.

When they hear Talia call him, “a rotten little boy who should’ve fallen with his parents,” Damian finally puts a stop to it. He stands in front of Dick and glares at his mother, barking at her to cease this behavior and apologize for saying such an awful thing.

“It’s alright, Dami, it’s fine,” Dick is quick to say, tugging Damian away, holding him close. “She’s said way worse, don’t worry about it. Let’s go home. Do you want to get Batburger with me?”

Damian is horrified to learn his mother has said such terrible things to Dick. He’s even more horrified when Dick lets it slip that they’ve been at each others throats since Bruce first adopted him. He holds on tightly to Dick’s hand, saying in a weak little voice that that’s an abhorrent way for an adult to treat a child. Dick just laughs it off, but he squeezes Damian’s hand and tries to change the subject.

They eat Batburger on top of a tall building in Gotham, looking out at all the lights.

Everyone else was also horrified, but they knew to give Dick his space. Bruce will ask him about it later, once he’s cooled down.

[charlie-shmarlie]

hi 😊

i was wondering if i could request loki x reader headcanons where the reader tends to be more quiet/averse to affection and loki kind of helps her to be more open/comfortable with it?

Hi there! I'd love to write that! I'll get working on it ASAP. I hope you enjoy!💜🌸

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Getting you used to affection: Loki Laufeyson headcanons

How Loki would help reader start to open up and enjoy affection ♡

Fluff ☁️

TW: none

Requested <3

I am currently taking headcanon and oneshot requests!

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You, being such a quiet and even somewhat standoffish person, made the task of getting you to be his a bit difficult for Loki in the first place. Not that he minded, of course. Naturally, when he realized you weren't really one for affection, he wasn't surprised in the least. You aren't exactly Ms. Huggable, no offense.

But does that deter him?? Absolutely not.

Despite you not being an openly affectionate person, he knows you love him just as much as he loves you-- you just have your own way of showing it, and that's okay.

However, even if YOU don't like to show affection in a conventional way, he sure does (in private,) but he wants you to be comfortable with it. So, with your permission, he takes it upon himself to slowly help you get used to his affections.

He'll start off slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you. You'll begin to notice him occasionally finding small ways to touch you, whether if that's by keeping a hand on your shoulder, straightening out a piece of your clothing, guiding you through a busy room with his hand on your lower back, or simply just interlocking his pinky finger with yours when walking together.

It's torturous for him not to be able to touch you like he really wants to, but he knows that he has to be patient and mindful of what you feel comfortable with, and he also understands what it's like to not be used to affection, especially physical affection.

Gradually, he'll help you get used to such simple and sweet touches before moving onto something bigger, like gentle embraces and light kisses on the forehead.

If you don't want to go past there, he's completely fine with that. For you, he can be content with anything. But of course, if you want to dive a little deeper, he's more than willing to help you step by step.

He would never want to push you to do anything you're not okay with doing yet, so if you ever get overwhelmed, he'll immediately back off and apologize and likely try to make it up to you in his own way. How? He has no idea, but he'll figure it out.

Loki is incredibly observant, and that means he notices when you're uncomfortable with someone else touching you/being in your personal space, and boy, is he ever protective.

One way or another, that person will not be touching you anymore. That's all I'll say.

But anyways--

You know what he does love? Seeing you open up to him, even if it's only gradually and slowly. He doesn't care if it takes you years. You are well worth the wait. Even in just the smallest, simplest signs that you're getting more and more comfortable with his affections, his heart flutters.

Loki cares very deeply about you, so being able to help you feel more at ease with him is a top priority-- plus it makes him feel good, like he's finally doing something right.

In any case, just remember this: Loki's main love languages are quality time and gift giving, so even if you're not 100% on board with physical touch, he will always find other ways to spoil you <3

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[strawberriesandhotmen]

Ruin Me: Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n: This took way too long for me to get out babies, I apologize sincerely. However, I’m pretty happy with these ONE THOUSAND EIGHT HUNDRED WORDS OF PURE FLITH 😊so I hope y’all enjoy and feel it was worth the wait. Much love to all y’all, I appreciate the consistent support so much!

pairing: Shane Walsh x fem!reader

CW +18 SMUT: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up), oral (f!recieving), fingering, multiple positions (all day all night amiright), reader and Shane unfortunately traumatize a precious member of the group (that’s what you public sex fiends get [affectionate]), total disregard for safety or privacy of any kind (yeah, this is def in character for our bb)

word count: 1.8k

“Ruin me.”

You didn’t have to tell Shane twice. Within moments, any weapons the two of you had were strewn about the grass, forgotten and out of the way. After all, you couldn’t very well strip with a rifle slung over your shoulder, could you?

“Too many damn clothes on, princess.” His words escaped him sounding like a growl, his fingers already hooked through your belt loops to tug you closer to him. You tugged impatiently on the hem of his shirt, and he let out a deep chuckle.

“Go on, baby, I ain’t stoppin’ you.” You smiled, feeling like a kid in a candy store as you pulled off his shirt to reveal the hard planes of his muscled torso. God, he really was too sexy for his shirt.

“Jesus Christ, Shane. You’re never wearing clothes again.” He barked out a laugh at your announcement, his hands already pushing your shirt up and off.

“Well shit, princess, neither are you.” Your lips were locked once again, tongues tangling with each other as articles of clothing fell to the ground piece by piece. It was exactly practical for the two of you to be butt-naked where either a walker or member of your group could stumble upon you at any given moment, but practicality was the last thing either of you cared about right now.

You let out a soft moan as his hands cupped the back of your thighs, laying you in the grass as gently as possible. It felt surprisingly plush beneath your bare back as he settled between your legs, your hands finding his hair.

He blindly explored your curves with his calloused hand, the roughness of his skin contrasting starkly with the smoothness of yours. Yes, lotion was one of your top priorities, even during the apocalypse.

“So fuckin’ soft, baby, v’got no idea how you do it.” He muttered as his lips and tongue drew wet shapes against your neck, leaving behind little red reminders as he went. You just let out a breathy chuckle, allowing yourself to melt into his touch.

“A woman must never reveal her secrets, Shane.” You felt his lips pull into a smile at your words, a shiver running down your spine as he paused to let his breath ghost over your skin. Knowing no response was needed, he continued his ministrations, making the barren hellscape that was your camp feel like heaven above.

His hands on your body, his lips on yours, it was everything you ever wanted and nothing you thought you needed. He was so much more than your wildest dream. The man who was once your antithesis, he was gone. Now?

Shane was your everything.

You let out a gasp as two dirt-stained fingers rolled your nipple between them, sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to your core. You arched off the grass beneath you, your hands now gripping his shoulders tightly.

“That’s it, princess, let me hear you. Wanna hear all of it.” Shane kissed a trail down your body, and just when he passed your navel, his eyes flicked up to yours, and you swore you saw the very sun in them. His hands continued to toy with your breasts as he mouthed at the sensitive skin of your stomach, now moving back towards your chest.

“Need to give these beauties some attention.” You would’ve rolled your eyes at his choice of words had he not already given you more pleasure than any man you had been with in the past.

And he hadn’t even fucked you yet.

“Shane, quit teasin’.” You complained, writhing underneath his torturous touch. He dismissed your pleas, occupying himself entirely with swirling his tongue around your peaked nipples as he felt the weight of your breasts in his palm. He felt that you were truly the most perfect woman, that he had never seen someone so beautiful.

He made a mental note to tell you just that after he finished thoroughly ravaging you. Or, in your words, ruining you.

He reveled in the soft moans that left your plump lips as he again descended down your body, his hands spreading your thighs just before his face slotted between them.

He moaned, actually moaned at the sight of you, pink and dripping just for him. He used his thumbs to spread you apart, salivating at the mere suggestion of tasting you.

“Jesus, princess. So fuckin’ pretty. She’s cryin’ already, ain’t she?” He smirked at the desperate mewls that left your throat, the same throat just begging for his hand to be wrapped around it like the necklace it deserved.

Another mental note for later.

He couldn’t hold back for long before he practically dove in, flattening his tongue to lick a long stripe along your cunt. A strangled gasp echoed from you at the feeling, your hips jutting upwards as his nose caught just right on your pulsing clit.

“Oh, God.” You moaned, nails dragging along his scalp and drawing a deep groan from him. Your hips twitch at the intense sensation his tongue gives you, grinding against his mouth because you need more. More what? More fucking anything.

Shane hears your wordless plea, and you can already feel his fingers dancing along your inner thigh before he shoves one thick finger knuckle-deep inside you. His free hand moves to knead your breast as his fingers and tongue work magic down below, and you're a moaning mess beneath him. Of course you were. Who wouldn’t be?

It felt like he was between your legs for hours, like tasting you was getting him off by the way he rutted his hips into the hard ground. Truthfully, it was getting him off, and he was so painfully hard he thought he might burst if he wasn’t inside you in the next five seconds.

“Shane, Shane.” You gasped out, wrapping your small hand around his bicep and tugging upwards. He pulled back, an immediate look of concern pulling at his features.

“What’s wrong? I hurt you or somethin’?” He panted, moving back up your body so your faces were level again. You just smiled, shaking your head breathlessly.

“No, no, just…need you inside.”  His eyes darkened further, if that was possible, with desire at your words.

“Fuck.” He muttered, suddenly exceedingly grateful he had the foresight to undress earlier. He didn’t think he could’ve stood keeping you waiting any longer. He wasted no time in lining himself up with your dripping entrance, groaning as he thrust in to the hilt.

You cried out, legs immediately wrapping around his hips as his tip kissed your cervix. The stretch was fucking delicious, and you couldn’t help but wish you had given into your desires sooner. Shit, he was perfect.

“Shit, s’fuckin’ tight, baby.” He grunted, slamming into you at a relentless pace, splitting you open mercilessly as you lay there powerless beneath him. And you wished in that moment to always be powerless with him, to forever be under his control if it felt like this every time. Because it was heaven.

He was heaven.

Without warning, he flipped you over with his cock still inside, propping your ass up in the air as his hand in between your shoulder blades kept you on your forearms. Your moans grew louder at the feeling of him hitting impossibly deeper, and you arched for him as best you could. It only got better when he messily fisted your hair, yanking your body upwards to be flush with his. The feeling of his broad chest against your back was so intimate, seemed so tender in contrast to how disgustingly he was fucking you.

It was hurried, raw, filthy, and more than you ever imagined. You could feel that pulsing vein along the underside of his cock drag along your slick walls, and you reveled in the sounds he made when you clenched around his length. When he finally brought one hand around to your front to draw tight circles on your clit, you were sure stars were falling from the sky.

His name left your lips in a desperate plea, your own hands flitting between your breasts and the air in search of something to hold onto. The space beside you devoid of any support, you settled for kneading your breasts and pinching your sore nipples as you grew closer to the edge.

A string of curses left Shane’s lips at the placement of your hands, the way you were taking your pleasure into your own hands (literally) turning him on more than he thought possible.

“That’s it, baby, make yourself feel good. I know you’re so close, so close f’me. Wanna feel you come undone, princess. Come all over my cock.” Jesus, he was a talker.

“Shane, gonna come.” You whined, the sound lewd and high pitched. The both of you groaned at the pornographic sounds of skin on skin, wet on wet as his hips snapped faster. Shane nearly lost it as you clenched around him, gripping him like a vice as you tumbled straight over the edge. Both arms wrapped around you as you came down from your high, and he pulled out just in time to release over your back.

That was a sight to see.

“That’s my girl, did so well f’me, princess. Took me so well.” He muttered endless praises into your ear, carding his fingers through your tangled locks as he laid the both of you back in the grass. He tugged your spent frame close, enveloping you in those muscular arms of his.

“You alright, baby? Didn’t ruin you too much, did I?” He smiled, looking down at you half-asleep already in his embrace. You chuckled lightly with the energy you had left, humming with a shake of your head.

“No, just the right amount.” Shane pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, and the two of you laid in silence for quite some time. I could get used to this, Shane thought. The idea of having you in his arms, all sweaty and spent and beautiful…it was perfect. Just before he closed his eyes and drifted off into the forgiving scape of ‘dreamland,’ you were both jolted to attention at a sharp voice from a few meters in the distance.

“What the fuck?” Well shit.

Glenn.

───── ⟡ 𖥸𖥸𖥸 ⟡ ─────

tags: @its-in-the-woods, @b-a-l-d, @ur-candy-gurl

[habaritess]

Season 4 Relationship Issues

Now I want to talk about the lack of progression in Carmy and Sydney's relationship in season 4 and why it creates a big problem with the story and maybe leading The Bear down a bad rabbit hole. The thing about their relationship is that they are the solution to each other’s most pressing problems. This has been established many times throughout The Bear. It’s why the show started off with Sydney's first day at The Bear and not Carmy’s first day. Carmy has what Sydney lacks and Sydney has what Carmy lacks. Carmy has the restaurant and the wealthy investor family member,  while Sydney has the business knowledge and is a natural born leader. Together, they are at peace. This was shown most prominently in season 2, episode 2. This scene, with the blue light hitting on the side, showed the two of them where they were most at peace. What Sydney desires is an equally skilled partner to brainstorm menus together. Due to her past business failures, she does not want to go into any business by herself.  While Carmy’s love of cooking is directly tied to who he does it with. It was originally going to be his brother, but now it became Sydney.

Due to certain factors, Claire being the main one, they both got away from what they truly desired, which was what they found in each other. Carmy, in reaction to his own failures after he locked himself in the freezer during the restaurant opening, became this unfeeling, closed minded, aggressive individual who put his own desires for the restaurant above everyone else’s. This put him in direct conflict with Sydney who wanted a partner she can bounce off ideas with, not someone who she had to follow. But their natural state is this moment, right here. They naturally work well with one another. They just have to get back to it.

Watching season 4, at first it seems like that is exactly where they were heading- Carmy getting away from that negative headspace and going back to how he used to be. Sydney learning to trust him again so that she can start making the decisions. It’s all going well, except that instead of giving the relationship a natural progression to that conclusion, the show chooses to stale the relationship, in preference of keeping the same factors that got in the way in season 2.

Claire. Oh Claire. Carmy chooses to confront how terribly he ended it with her and goes to apologize. This was good and necessary. Claire was the conflict that got in the way of their partnership in season 2, and his guilt over her helped lead him to spiraling in season 3. The apology scene should have been it. Them leaving each other in mutual understanding that they weren’t the best for one another, should have been it. Claire was too triggering for Carmy, and I wrote down my reasons for why I think that was the case, but whatever reason it was the show never gave it. Carmy described the feeling like being on fire. They broke up, they weren’t good, that should be the end of it… but it wasn’t! Instead of allowing Claire to fade into obscurity, the show brings Claire back! Three times. She danced with Carmy in the wedding. Claire comforted Sydney at the hospital. Carmy called Claire before he met his mother. Claire, who was the obstacle between the two main character's path, now seems more prominent than ever and is now a potential future partner for Carmy.

And that doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make any sense to the narrative established in 4 fricken seasons. Carmy can not have The Bear and Claire. Carmy is much too scatter brained for that. He actually can’t have any romantic relationships outside of someone already working in The Bear because of the amount of time the business takes. Sydney put her foot down with that. In season 2, she told Carmy how she needed his full focus, and did not want to share it. Sydney pretty much told Carmy no romantic relationships...one, it wouldn’t work with how busy they are, and two, she wanted to be his full focus. Carmy recognized that too. They didn’t bother to say to give the restaurant your full focus. No, it’s give each other that focus. This means that, other than finding partners from people they hired, which is inappropriate, the ONLY possible romance is with one another.

And both Carmy and Sydney are down with that. It’s been well established that they both share a romantic interest in one another. This is going to anger some folks, but I’m speaking purely about what the story has given. Now mind you, I love me some good, close platonic heterofriendships, and would have been happy to accept that for them, but the way it was portrayed showed that it isn’t.  In the beginning of season 2, Carmy tried asking Sydney out at the end of episode one, but couldn’t do it, but then planned to take Sydney out on a work “date” , this was after giving Claire the fake number. Sydney showed obvious jealousy whenever Claire came into the picture, or was mentioned by Carmy. Sydney doesn’t want to share Carmy. The feelings are there for both of them, so why did season 4 go in the direction that it did?

First, keeping Claire around when she should have gone on her merry way. Second, by Carmy choosing to leave The Bear altogether. Now, one of my predictions for the show was Carmy stepping down as “head” in some form or fashion and letting Sydney take the lead. Carmy is just way too internally chaotic to ever be a good leader, and that has been established well in 3 seasons. He freaks out over stressful situations. I suspected that allowing Sydney to run The Bear was going to be his way of keeping her. Him stepping down and being just one of the cooks, would have been better for his mental state while being able to still do what he loves, which is cooking with the people he loves. What I didn’t expect was there EVER going to be a choice of him leaving The Bear entirely.

For one, leaving The Bear means that Carmy completely went back on everything he had told and promised Sydney. “I wont let you fail” “ We will work on it” “I don’t want to do this without you” All these promises and declarations, and he wants to leave The Bear, and leave Sydney. The ONLY reason Sydney came to The Beef and dealt with all the bullshit there, including the low pay, the aggressive coworkers, the constant instability, was because she wanted to be with Carmy. That’s it. Yes, she absolutely considered leaving The Bear for the opportunity of a lifetime, only after Carmy went a full 180 on her and became a tyrant rather than a partner, but she ultimately chose to stay despite the stakes, and she stayed for the hope for him to be better and become that partner she desired. Sydney doesn’t want to go it alone, same thing goes for Carmy, and that’s what makes their partnership so special..

..but now that is over with. Carmy destroyed any amount of trust that he gained with Sydney. He wants to leave her behind despite telling her that she wasn’t alone. And for what exactly? An ending where he goes to find himself with Claire now by his side, now that he doesn’t have a restaurant to run? And the way this season was set up, it SEEMS like it is headed in that direction. There are far less friendly moments in between them, despite this season being the one where Carmy is trying to repair their relationship. The thing is, they gave many different scenarios where they could have gotten closer to one another, but the show instead stubbornly had them have those moments with others. Richie takes Sydney to the wedding and dances with her. Sydney refuses to allow Carmy to come with her to be with her at the hospital, and Carmy chooses to talk with Claire versus Sydney when going to meet his mom. The few moments they had between them are nothing like the friendly banter they used to have, which is understandable given the circumstances. But it also feels like the show has given up on them as a partnership.

If the show backs away from this partnership, the story is absolutely going to suffer from it. It already did by choosing to go down the route where Carmy breaks every promise he made to Sydney and chooses to leave The Bear. It already did when they decided to keep Claire around after Carmy apologizes, and had the usually tight lipped Syd, who doesn’t even show her vulnerability to The Bear crew, cry her heart out to Claire. When characters start acting against their own characterization just to make an ending work, then that’s when you know that someone has lost the plot.

[fan-a-saurus-rex]

How would Joaquin Torres react to his younger friend/sister having a sugar daddy? Like she doesnt even tell him but he somehow finds out

I hope you don’t mind but I’m writing this as smut cause I had an idea 😂

——————————————————————————

Mr. Brightside

Plot: Torres finds out that you’ve secretly had a sugar daddy for the past few months and he doesn’t react the way you expected.

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Reader

Requested: Yes! (Make a request here)

Warnings: smut (mentions of casual sex w/other people, unprotected sex [wrap it up friends, stay safe!])

Masterlist

You hadn’t meant for it to happen. Actually, you hadn’t meant for anything in the past few years of your life to happen.

Back in 2019 you blipped, just like billions of others. Five years later you come back to find your friends had aged normally and you were still the same as you’d been when you turned to dust. The only friend who didn’t give up on you at that time was Joaquin Torres.

It was weird to be younger than him now. You were at different stages of life now, but your bond with him was just as close as it always had been.

After losing five years of life, you started to become more bold. You were unapologetically yourself and not afraid to tell people what you thought.

In the past few months you had ended up in a situationship of sorts….with Jason, a much older rich guy. He was basically your on-and-off sugar daddy. You hadn’t told anyone about him, not even Torres, especially not Torres. He was so protective of you that you didn’t know he’d react to you sleeping with a guy 20 years older than you.

What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

But, as if the universe was trying to punish you, Torres and Jason crossed paths. You had been upstairs showering while Torres was visiting and Jason stopped by your apartment.

“Who are you?” Torres asked the much older guy.

“Jason, I’m…friends with {y/n}. She left her sweater at my place. Just wanted to return it” he said

“Friends? You’re a lot older than her” Torres said, wondering if maybe he was a family friend of her dad.

“Yeah um…we’ve actually been hooking up” he said nervously. “I like my woman younger. It’s not serious though, if you’re into her then she’s all yours…I don’t mind” he confessed.

He was into you. More than he cared to admit.

“I’ll let her know you stopped by” Torres said before closing the door.

He was seething.

Ten minutes later you came back into the living room and saw your sweater laying on the couch.

“Oh, I’ve been looking for this! Where did you find it?” You asked.

“I didn’t. Jason did, you left it at his place” he said flatly.

Your face dropped and turned beat red.

“No….no no no, Torres. This is not what it looks like” you said

“He told me you two had been hooking up” he said.

You sighed “yeah. And then he buys me nice things to apologize for the shitty sex cause he’s in his 40’s and he can’t always keep it up” you said rolling your eyes.

If you were being honest, it hadn’t been the greatest for you. He had no stamina and always finished too quickly leaving you unsatisfied, or just not being able to stay hard long enough to get you off. It sucked, so he bought you expensive gifts to make up for it.

“Really?” He asked, a smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

“I kinda wanna break it off. It’s not like it’s serious”

“That’s what he told me”

“I just don’t wanna be lonely, but I’m so sexually frustrated I might explode!” You said, you hated this situation.

“You don’t have to be lonely” he said calmly

“Oh really? Do you see any other guys lining up to be with me?!” You asked loudly

“Yeah” he said

“Who?!” You asked irritated.

“Me”

“What?”

“Open your eyes {y/n}! I’ve been here the whole time. Before the blip, after the blip! I’ve been in love with you since we were in high school back in Miami. I waited five years for you to come back to me and now that I’ve finally got you back you’re secretly sleeping with some rich guy”

You looked at him with your mouth wide open, but no words came out.

“I’m right here babygirl” he said moving closer to you. “You never have to be lonely…or unsatisfied”

“Joaquin?” You finally asked feeling confused and turned on at the same time.

He came over and moved a piece of hair out of your face “we don’t have to, but I’d rather have you then watch you waste your time with an insufficient man twice your age.”

You looked up into his dark eyes as his hand caressed your cheek. You couldn’t deny it, he was hot, always had been. You could remember a few times where you thought maybe you liked him as more than a friend, this was another one of those times.

Suddenly, your bravery took over and you found yourself pressing your lips to his gently. His lips moved against yours slowly and if you were being honest, you were feeling things you never thought you would. It felt like his lips were made for yours. Like he was made for you.

His hands moved to your hips as yours snaked around his neck pulling him closer.

* * * * *

It had been a few weeks since Joaquin found out about your sugar daddy situationship and the kiss you two shared.

You had never expected to react the way he did. You thought he’d be mad at you. And he was mad, but more at himself. You hadn’t expected his true feelings for you to come out.

You had called things off with Jason, who didn’t mind at all. It wasn’t serious anyway and he could find some other pretty young thing anyway.

Tonight you were at Joaquin’s apartment. He wanted to have an intimate stay-in date. He had cooked you dinner and you ate on the floor, surrounded by pillows and blankets, while watching an old movie.

After dinner the two of you just laid on the floor talking and just soaking up each other’s presence. You were fidgeting with Joaquin’s hands as you talked.

“You like my hands or something?” He said chuckling

“Mhm” you said smiling “something about them is really attractive to me”

He grinned at you “wanna see what I can do with them?” He whispered softly

You blushed and nodded, biting your lip.

He rolled you over onto your back and straddled your lap gently. He let his hands roam up and down your sides and thighs before resting them on your cheeks. He leaned down and kissed you softly. You arched into his kiss. After the first kiss you shared at your apartment, the day Jason came over unannounced, it just felt so effortless to be with Joaquin like this. Kissing him just felt so right.

After a short time the kiss got a bit more heated and you could feel your hips instinctively bucking up to reach his.

He chuckled, pulling g away from your lips “needy girl” he whispered.

You smirked “so needy”

He tugged at the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it off slowly. You reached up and pulled off his shirt before running your hands down his toned chest. Sure, you’d seen him shirtless before. But you would never get used to how fit and sexy he was.

You sat up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your chest to his. The skin to skin contact made electricity run through your veins.

He smirked and picked up, carrying you to his bedroom where he laid you down on the bed. He kissed down your neck and chest, down to the hem of your leggings. He looked up at you, silently asked permission. You nodded and he proceeded to pull them off, before tugging off his basketball shorts.

You were trying to be patient. You knew Joaquin wanted to take his time. But you had so much pent up frustration from months of shitty sex with Jason that you were finding it hard to contain yourself.

Joaquin took notice and ran his hands over your sides gently “don’t worry babygirl, you’ll get what you need from me. I won’t leave you wanting” he said softly.

You nodded and allowed him to slip off your bra and panties. He slipped out of his boxers then reached over to his bedside table to grab a condom. You reached out to stop him “no…I wanna feel you…” you whispered.

“You sure babygirl?” He asked

You nodded “I need it so bad”

His breath hitched and he looked like he was short circuiting “okay baby”

He lined up to your center, teasing you with his tip “fuck, you’re soaked” he groaned.

You whimpered a bit, you needed him so bad “Joaquin please?” You begged

He smirked and slid into you slowly. You both gasped at the sudden contact.

He was bigger than Jason, so it took some time to adjust, but once you did you wanted all of him “Torres…move” you whimpered wanting it so bad.

He started thrusting slowly, letting you feel him in you. It drove you insane “oh god, feels so good” you moaned.

“You take me so well” he groaned, picking up the pace.

The room soon filled with your moans and the sound of skin slapping skin. You hadn’t felt this good in months and you never wanted it to end, but your climax was approaching quickly.

“Fuck, I’m close!” You moaned

“Let go baby, cum for me” he groaned in your ear, taking you over the edge.

You moaned his name loudly as you released hard. You’d never cum so hard.

His high was approaching quickly “want me to pull out?” He groaned.

“No…fill me…please?” You begged breathlessly.

“Oh fuck!” He groaned as his high hit quicker than expected. You could feel his hot load dumping deep inside you.

You rode out your highs until you were a panting mess, laying next to each other trying to catch your breath.

“Joaquin?”

“Hmm?”

“That was amazing” you said breathlessly.

He leaned over and kissed your cheek softly “told you I wouldn’t leave you unsatisfied” he said smiling.

You smiled and turned your head to kiss his lips softly. He pulled you closer and you cuddled into him.

“I’m never gonna make you feel like you don’t matter. I’ll never neglect your needs. You deserve the world baby” he whispered, playing with your hair.

“I know” you said softly, looking up at him through your lashes. “No more sugar daddies for me” you said giggling.

“I’ll let you call me papi if you’d like” he said grinning.

You giggled and nudged him “shut up, no” you said “gross, I’m not into that”

He chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

You thought about everything that had happened since you came back from the blip, all the stupid mistakes you’d made. The only one you didn’t make was keeping Joaquin close, but you wished you’d kept him closer. You loved being with him like this.

You cuddled for a while until you rolled over, lying on his chest. You smiling down at him.

“What’s up babygirl?” He asked

“Ready for round two?” You asked smirking.

“Oh hell yes” he said flipping you over so he was hovering over you.

“Do your worst papi” you said sarcastically.

[npookie0]

Bath time with Angel fic :3 nothing sexual, just warm water, rose petals, beeswax candles, and pretty bubbles! Pretty please 👉👈 (yes this is based on the new "watered up" art HEHEH)

Heavenly Moments

It's been a long week for you and your girlfriend, work was a torture for the two of you, giving you barely any time to spend together So why not relax on a Friday evening?

words [ 900 ] fanfic inspired by @munstxr newst angel art ! go check it out ^^

cws: spoilers for angel's story and real name ^^

It's been a week since you and your girlfriend, Angel, could spend some cozy couple time together. You were too busy trying to catch up with your journalist job and writing poetry about a certain angelic girl, while the girl in question had to manage a whole youtube channel, modeling and getting to know her new manager all at once.

You missed the warm embrace of her and chatting until the sunlight about all sorts of things, your poetry, her ballet, your past, her perfectionism. You loved listening to her stories and the questions she asked when something in your story caught your attention.

"She's coming late today." You mumbled when you read a text from Angel decorated with dozens of apologies.

You clicked your tongue and thought for a bit. She's going to be too tired to chat with you when she's back and you didn't have the energy to make a dinner for the two of you to enjoy. Something else had to serve the purpose of getting you and your girlfriend to spend time together after so long.

Then the perfect idea came to your mind.

<mc.username> [22:03] Come to the bathroom when you're back <3

With no time to waste you began preparations. Bath bombs, face masks, rose petals, flower scented candles, wine, calm and cosy music. You looked at the dimly lit and beautifully decorated bathroom proudly. That's your creation and you can say so with a smile.

When you heard the front door opening you fixed your bath robe and waited for Angel to enter the bathroom, it took her steps to come closer, she went to the bedroom first, then to the kitchen and finally to the room that you asked her to come to.

"Oh my, sweetheart that's just beautiful." She said, standing in the doorframe stunned and in awe. You saw some energy wash through her as her excitement to enjoy a relaxing bath with you filled her mind.

"Hehe, I'm glad you like this. I wanted to spend time with you and I didn't know what else we could do so late into the night." You chuckled nervously.

She walked up to you, dropping her pink jacket to the floor, she cupped your face between her hands and kissed you sweetly. "This is just perfect, thank you." She whispered and placed another kiss on your cheek.

Angel stripped down and you both entered the tub, sitting on opposite sides to be able to look at each other.

"This feels nice." Angel exhaled and titled her head back.

"Day's been that hard, huh?" You asked, pouring her a glass of wine and hanging it to her.

She accepted the wine with a warm smile and took a sip. "Don't even mention it. This shoot was the worst I ever had. My new manager, as sweet as they are, completely don't know how to talk to people so most of the time it was them trying to plead with the photographers to let me rest or pass me water."

"Ah, still, they care about you at the very least. Give them time and they'll get used to the big bad celebrity world."

She chuckled at your response and, still holding the wine in one hand, started to move a rose petal between her fingers with a slight smile. "I suppose so, I'm happy that it's not Finian anymore, that I don't need to be a perfect and sweet Maria de la Rosa when I'm just with my manager and I'm tired or else I'll be called spoiled rotten."

"You know, according to Ronin we're all rot, so maybe Finian was right with just one tiny part." You said jokingly for what you for splashed with the foamy water "Hey! I'm just saying what Ronin said."

"It's exactly why I splashed you." She scoffed and splashed you again. "As much as I love Ronin, please give me an evening without him, he's been spamming me with Like and Subscribe! all day. I thought I'd kill him" She groaned.

"That does sound like a nightmare."

"Don't even tell me about it." No matter how hard she fought, Angel still couldn't hide the small smile that creeped on her lips. Ronin could annoy her, but she was still glad for all the messages he sent her.

"That aside~! Now I get to enjoy a nice warm bath with my adorable partner and after that snuggle in bed and sleep. That's a perfect night for me."

You got flustered when she called you adorable. "Oh, stop. It's just something small I wanted to make for the two of us... Though sniggling does sound perfect."

"Why should I stop? You're just the cutest and you deserve praise for your efforts." She giggled seeing how flustered you were getting. "Okay, okay~. I'll stop for the sake of your poor little heart."

"Thank you, you really are an angel."

"You're so funny." She flicked to foam at you. "I will tell Ronin to find a partner of his own if he'll keep coming to your dms I swear to god."

"You just don't get the beauty of our jokes."

"And I'm afraid I never will. Now, let's really change the topic and tell me about..."

You enjoyed the rest of the bath chatting and drinking wine, then you went to bed and snuggled until you fell asleep cuddles up.

Meow! 900 is a perf number for me to say that it's enough words ^^ (and the fact that it's midnight and I don't have more things to add here)

goodnight pookies <3

Nathan :p

[obibail]

didn’t realize how shitty my mood was until i finally cut off the girl who was (lacking a better word) parasocially attracted to me and was actively making me miserable because i didn’t reciprocate her feelings

[luvuomi]

༄˖°. 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍.

゛i am yours. even in this waiting, i am yours ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

“i love you.”

kazuha had never known such a feeling could exist in the great mystery that is love. he’s read the many prose that describe declarations of love akin to the first blossoms of spring or the explosion of fireworks crackling in the night skies. all this time, he was convinced he knew what it felt like to love and to be loved.

their love had always existed behind the veil of fate, existing in the form of an intricately embroidered thread that held together the bonds of promise and devotion between two souls that recognized a home in each other.

though it was buried beneath years of longing and pining, it was always there with him. from the moment their paths converged—carmine eyes meeting the honeycombed ones of another—kazuha would never know what it meant to be “alone,” so long as he was tethered to the one he believed he could never go on living without. but being together with her was painful, in its own twisted yet beautiful way. despite loathing himself to think as such, it was almost a burden to remain at her side and not ever feel a need for something more. even when all kazuha ever wanted was just that.

he should be happy, overfilled with a joy that is beyond measure, right? so why — why is there a heartache dwelling deep inside him?

the truth is.. the wandering ronin now cannot bear to fathom the thought of leaving behind his beloved to continue his travels, knowing that every view he’ll see will feel incomplete without her. a heart truly is a heavy burden.

🎨 →⠀﹐⠀╱⠀thank you so much to @scarameownya for this beautiful and heart-wrenching ( /pos ) commission🥹🤍 !! i absolutely LOVE how everything turned out and omg.. zuzu’s expression 💔💔 IM CRYING IK I ASKED FOR THIS SPECIFICALLY BUT IT STILL HURTS OKAY? and then coupled with had i not seen the sun ?? yea im gonna go dark for the next few hours chat /j /lh also yes i did cry while writing out this blurb leave me alone-

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Maybe the truth at the heart of Shadowstruck is the importance of family. Because the most compelling stories in this universe are about what happens when you tell parents that some of their children have no right to their love, care, and protection. It destroys what should be the strongest and most natural bonds of love, and that simple horrible thing leads to all the complicated problems in their oppressive society.

[altruistic-meme]

ohhh why does it have to be me why can't it be anyone but me

[butyoudidthis4what]

No Man's Land Part 2

Jack Abbot x f!reader || Part 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Coming here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack isn’t here. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scared. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long was I out?’’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleepy?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I promise.”

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

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

“You’re welcome, Doll.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

Your brows furrow. “For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh a little. “That tracks then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mentally, however, things are devolving. Rapidly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He furrows his brows. “Like what?”

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

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

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

Ah. Depression. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack nods. “Okay. Okay, yeah.”

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

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

Hours pass. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sleep well.

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

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

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

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

Jack. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tomorrow. 

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

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

It’s your perfect day. 

Jack thinks that’s real fucking ironic. 

Sleep well. 

Jack was right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All your vitals are normal. Stable.

Your eyes remain closed. Comatose. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t need babysat.” Jack huffs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You haven’t woken up. 

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

He shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Dana nods a bit and walks out. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you’re awake. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleep well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re dancing at the wedding.”

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

Days blur together. 

Your Pitt family rallies around both of you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack chokes, starts coughing and it makes you giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Home. 

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

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

He gives you a very pointed look. 

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

“No.” 

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

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

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

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

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

He nods because he knows it’s true. 

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

Discharge instructions. 

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

You ask about sex. 

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

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

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

“Oh my god,” he mutters. 

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

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

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

“They’re very nice b-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hospital policy.” Jack shrugs. 

“Hospital policy or Jack policy?”

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

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

And then he wheels you out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack gets the box from his pocket and opens it.

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

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

“Yes.” 

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

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

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

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

The entirety of the proposal is perfect. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 3 is up!

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

Thank you again for reading and your support!

[ghostedbunnie]

trouble comes in fours

tf141 x fem!reader reader wants to get rid of her ex and tf141 might have the perfect scare factor

imagine that your ex simply can't take a hint and keeps creeping on your social media so in a desperate attempt to get rid of him the only way you know is gonna work is to scare him off with a new guy. someone he can't even think off challenging.

on a night out with your friends you are venting out your frustrations about it. while you are in the middle of retelling the last time he tried to slide into your DMs the door to the bar open and you can feel the air shift.

the group of 4 guys walk in. most of them have to duck their heads through the doorway. when they settle into a quieter corner that seems to have a great vantage point to overlook the entirety of the bar your friend nudges you. "looks like 4 possible solutions to your problem just walked in."

your eyes go wide and you sputter out that there is no way. the thought of sending a drink to any of them is almost as terrifying as shoving your head into a tank full of piranhas.

the night continues and with every drink, your fear gives into curiousity. what's the worst thing they could do? bring it back? you can just leave before that happens. the alcohol and your friends chip away at you for few minutes before you gather up the courage. you honestly don't even know which one of them you're sending the drink to.

there's a loud pretty boy with a slightly overgrown mohawk wildly gesturing and retelling some story from the looks of it. when the dim light catch his eyes just right they almost glint silver.

another one but great deal calmer sits opposite, he has a killer smile with slight dimples. just the sight of those dimples could make panties drop.

next to him is a possibly older guy around 40s you'd wager, you can't see his face clearly because half of it is hidden underneath a hat and the other under a very impressive beard. but even from the little you can see the rug burn from that beard would definitely be worth it. simply based on the commanding air around him.

in the corner next to the loud-mouth sits a shadow. honestly in your slight drunk daze you almost missed him in his dark hoodie, pants and face mask. you don't see him drink but the drink in front of him does magically disappear anyway. and whenever you turn around from gawking you swear you can feel someone's stare. but as you get the chills you tell yourself it's probably the a/c blaring.

imagine your surprise when the bartender sends 4 drinks to the table and when you look back to asses the situation you have 4 (well 3 as the big boy in the corner doesn't touch the drink but inclines his head at you) miming a clinking motion while sipping on the drinks.

the mortification doesn't end because when your friends abandon you for some more dance time and you turn to get up to the bathroom you walk straight into a hard chest of the pretty boy. he calms your apologies from running into him with a smile. "wanted ta thank you for the drink, bonnie."

heat rushes to your face as you try to somehow talk your way out of this mess because what seemed like a great idea when your head was swimming with 9 drinks is starting to seem a lot worse now that you are slowly sobering up.

"nothing ta worry 'bout. come sit with us. it feels wrong to keep a bonnie lass like yerself all alone."

next up: simon's ver. // others are coming soon

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The Reader gets jealous/upset because Sukuna gets Concubines, with a happy ending though. pleaseeeee

Wish I didn’t care

Tags: true form!Sukuna x fem!Reader, king!Sukuna, royal au (?), angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending i promise

An: Ooo, this was such a good idea. Thank you for requesting it from me!! I hope it’s everything you wanted!!

Sukuna never felt the need to give you a title for being in his life. To him, titles were superficial… There wasn’t a title in the world that could explain or encompass the complexities of his relationship with you.

However, you, coming from the mortal realm, wanted a title. It’s not that you wanted the power that was associated with being the betrothed of the King of Curses. You just wanted to feel.. irreplaceable to him.

So, to make you happy, you were his wife.

Kings rarely ever are allowed the luxury of marrying for love. Most kings marry daughters of other powerful kings to create allies between nations. However, Sukuna didn’t need allies. He didn’t need to marry for power when he had more power than he knew what to even do with.

Everything was simply child’s play for him. He even stopped trying to conquer the mortal realm because it was just too damn easy for him. The “sorcerers” could barely even put up a fight. It was embarrassing.

Life was truly becoming boring for him.

That was, until a female curse was delivered straight to his chamber. He was confused and honestly pissed that Uraume would simply guide this harlot into his chambers without his permission. Only you were granted such luxuries.

He was leisurely splayed in his bed with no cloth to cover himself. He truly appreciated the concept of being completely in his own skin at all times, and he often encouraged you to do the same. Though, he also learned to appreciate your more modest approach. You didn’t have to show any skin to get Sukuna riled up.

“State your purpose.” His voice was low and menacing as he spoke to the woman. He slipped his robes on over his shoulders, tying it in the front so he was no longer exposing himself.

“My father sends his regards. Says that a newly wedded king deserves a ‘fresh’ concubine.” The girl spoke with no humility towards him.

Sukuna’s face twisted in disgust that her dad would even suggest such a thing. He was even more put off that she described herself as ‘fresh’ as if she were a type of vegetable in the garden.

“Your father can kindly go fuck himself. I’m not interested.” He responds coldly, and his large palm grabs onto her shoulder with the intention of throwing her out of his chambers. He knew that if you saw her here, you’d probably be devastated.

“My lord-“

“I am not your anything. You address me as Lord or King, but make no mistake. I am not your lord.” He rudely cuts her off, not letting her think she has any sort of claim to him.

“Okay, Lord Sukuna, when’s the last time she’s fulfilled her wifely duties? I can see she’s not in here tending to you now, right? She’d probably feel grateful that you’re being satisfied around the clock.” The concubine’s voice was like a purr, and she looked up at him with eyes that’d rival a siren’s.

And for a split second, Sukuna almost considers her offer.

“You’ll never believe it, Kuna!” Your happy voice fills the air, and the door swings open to reveal you holding a small flower in your hand. “I got a jasmine to bl-“ Your eyes fall upon to scene in front of you.

Sukuna’s towering over an unfamiliar woman. His hand is touching her neck and shoulder area, while she has her hand leisurely pressed against his bicep.

“Who’s.. this?” You quietly ask, and immediately, Sukuna can feel a strange feeling pour into him. It feels like… guilt? He regrets even momentarily entertaining the idea about this harlot occupying his bed.

“Nobody-“

“Oh my lady, it’s nice to meet you. I apologize. Lord Sukuna and I were just getting aquatinted with each other since we’ll be seeing each other a lot from now on.” The serpent of a female cuts him off, and he immediately realizes just what this is. Whichever king decided to send her is hoping to ruin his marriage. She’s quite literally a snake in his garden, trying to ward his wife away from him.

“I don’t… understand.” The way your voice sounds so small. The small pout upon your lips. The way the flower you were once carrying with such confidence is now sagging in your hand. Fuck. Sukuna felt like a complete imbecile.

“Oh, come on now. You know he has needs that are beyond your abilities. I’ll lay with him when you’re too-“

“Enough.” Sukuna’s voice snaps. His teeth grit together as he practically drags the woman out of his chambers. “Go fuck off for a while. I’ll deal with you later.” The door immediately slams in her face.

After a moment of trying to comprehend what just happened and how it all happened so quickly, Sukuna slowly turns to you. It feels like a gut punch once he sees the tears brimming in your eyes.

“That wasn’t…”

“You took up a concubine?” You ask in a sniffle. Your hands are barely even holding the jasmine that’s you were once so excited to show him. Flowers rarely ever bloom in Sukuna’s desolate kingdom, but with hard work and determination, you had gotten a jasmine to bloom in his kingdom.

“No, she was sent to me. I didn’t seek her out.” He tries to dispel the claims while he slowly approaches you. His chest aches as he watches you take a step back away from him. “Do not cower from me, woman.”

“Was I not good enough? Was I not doing enough for you..? I thought… I thought it was good, b-but I can try harder.” Your voice is so shaky, and you won’t even look him in the eye. What has he done?

“Silence. You will not speak of yourself like that to me.” Sukuna orders, and he takes another step forward. You take another step back with another sniffle. Your tears are streaming down your cheeks.

“Please…” The word sounds foreign on his tongue. He’s never ever pleaded for anything in his life. He could simply take what he wants, but he doesn’t want to hurt his delicate flower. He wants her to seek out comfort in him. “Please don’t cower. It was not like that. She showed up at my door, spoke of lies and filth, and I was trying to throw her out when you walked in.”

“So you didn’t even con..consider taking her on as a concubine?” You ask while you rub the tears away with the back of your hands. Hopefully, this was all just a poorly timed miscommunication.

Sukuna takes a moment before responding. He has two options. He could tell you a white lie that would instantly comfort you, but it would be a lie. Or he could tell you the truth and face the consequences of his actions.

“It was one moment of weakness.” He replies carefully.

He instantly wishes he just lied from the way your face immediately twisted in disappointment and pure hurt. The jasmine falls from your hands, and your footsteps trail away from his chambers, leaving him dumbfounded.

Sukuna is immediately on your trail, unable to let you be. He needs to fix this. His dear wife is upset, and it’s all his fault.

A pair of hands slither up his arm as he walks. He already knows who’s touching him based off the nasty feeling from their contact. “My lord, let her be. She needs to-“

“Dismantle.” The concubine’s body drops to the floor in two, split directly at her waist. He had warned her already about referring to him as her lord. She didn’t deserve to speak of you so carelessly, and she didn’t deserve to live after causing this rift in his marriage.

Sukuna continues on his hunt for you without another hitch, leaving the harlot’s body right where she once stood for one of the servants to clean up.

He searches for you in all your usual spots: the gardens, the kitchen, the library, the rooftop. You’re no where to be found. You don’t want to be found. He starts to wonder around his perimeter. The longer he goes without finding you; the more his heart starts to race.

Did you leave him? Did he lose you for good?

The thought of not having his delicate flower by his side makes his body feel ill. You must’ve placed some sort of binding curse on him, but he didn’t necessarily mind.

He’s close to waging war when he finally sees your small human body tucked underneath a weeping willow on a bed of grass. His body moves on it’s own: running to you. When’s the last time he’s ran like this?

Crouching over you, he can see no visible injuries on your body, but he knows he’s wounded your heart with his foolish actions. How could he ever have a wandering eye when you were the real prize?

His four arms carefully scoop you up and cradle your body as he takes a seat underneath the willow. Your poor cheeks are flushed and tear stained. Your eyes and lips are so puffy. You must’ve tired yourself out from crying.

“I’m sorry, flower.” He whispers softly, even if your eyes are still resting. He pulls your body closer to his chest, and he contemplates when he started becoming so soft for you.

A part of him hates it. That small unconscious voice of his telling him that he shouldn’t concern himself with the feelings of a mere mortal, but the bigger part of him knows that he can’t just ignore you. He cares far too much for you.

“Kuna..?” You murmur as your hands rub your eyes. You’re immediately met with remembering just why you had fallen asleep. “I do not wish to see you right now.”

Sukuna chuckles quietly from your defiant little comment. It reminds him of when you first arrived to his estate. “Then close your eyes.” He simply states as one of his hands start to comb through your hair. “Woman, tell me what to do to fix this.”

You shift your gaze away from him with a small huff. If he wasn’t so much bigger than you, you’d try to wiggle away from him. However, you know it is of no use. “I don’t know, Kuna.” Your words are sharp and still so full of emotion. “Imagine how you’d feel if I told you I contemplated sleeping with someone else… in a moment of weakness.”

The sheer thought of it has Sukuna’s anger burning up like an inferno. You’re his delicate flower. No one would even know how to take care of you like he can. His arms subtly tighten around your frame. “I’d kill every man you gaze at.”

“Well, men can rest easy because I only have eyes for you.” You mutter while rolling your eyes. “I love you so much that the thought of being with someone else repulses me, and it… just really hurts that you don’t feel the same.”

“Flower, I took you for granted. It was a brief moment of contemplation, but I instantly decided against it. I did not desire her in the slightest.” Sukuna tries to explain, and his hand gently brushes against your soft cheek.

“You still don’t deny that you don’t feel the same for me.” You respond quietly, still not giving him the satisfaction of you looking at him.

“You are everything to me. I will not lose sight of what’s important again.”

“Kuna.” You finally look up at him, and you frown slightly. Sukuna secretly adores the little nicknames you have adorned him with, but he’d never admit it.

“What is it, woman?” He asks, titling his head to the side a bit to get a better look at your face. You’re so pretty in his lap like this.

“Do you love me?” You quietly ask, even if you can already hear his voice telling you ‘do not ask questions you don’t want answers to’… because even if he’s the incarnate of evil, Sukuna will not lie. Liars are weak cowards who can’t get jobs done by being upfront. Sukuna isn’t afraid of what the truth is.

Your husband contemplates your question for a moment. He thinks about how disgusting that wannabe concubine was. He thinks about how you preoccupy his mind majority of the time. He thinks about the weird mix of feelings he has felt today in your absence.

“What I feel for you… is probably the closest to love that I’ll ever get.” Sukuna responds, carefully choosing his words. “You, my flower, are the only thing that keeps me grounded to the mortal plains.”

You give him the best smile you can muster despite the disappointment that you feel since he won’t tell you that he loves you. You suppose you have no one to blame other than yourself. Sukuna told you when he married you not to get your hopes up for love, but you still can’t help but crave that sort of affection from him.

“I don’t like seeing you upset, flower.” He speaks tenderly as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. “If I could, I’d snap my fingers and assure you that I love you whole heartedly. It just not in my genetic code.”

“I know… I’m grateful for your effort at least.” You murmur as you wrap your arms around his neck.

His arms wrap around you, cradling you to his chest. He inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent that he enjoys so much. “Am I forgiven, woman?”

“Mmm, no.” You smile cheekily in his embrace, and Sukuna chuckles heartily.

“Oh? Is someone going to use this blunder to her advantage?” When you nod in his shoulder, Sukuna lays back against the soft pillowy grass. “That’s my girl. Go on. Make me work for your forgiveness.”

On a completely unrelated note, Sukuna had that harlot’s body mailed back to her father as a ‘thank you’ for sending a whore to his kingdom.

[qiu-yan]

stupid idea for a MDZS fanmade visual novel:

you play as jin zixuan. after a long series of various events and misunderstandings, you come to understand that your acquaintance jiang yanli, who you once wrote off as average, is in fact a perfect soul who you desperately want to marry. the only problem now is that she 1. is still convinced that you hate her, 2. probably hates your loser ass too, and 3. is surrounded by men and women who are far more qualified to date her than you are. #1 and #2 can hopefully be resolved eventually with enough time, effort, and apologies.....but #3 seems to render that impossible, since if you're not careful any one of these "more qualified" bachelor/ettes might snap her up first!!!!!

you immediately identifies wei wuxian as your biggest threat, because from your (jin zixuan's) pov, wei wuxian is jiang yanli's male childhood friend who she super dotes on. after seeing how close they are, you are initially almost ready to give up - except then you find out that lan wangji is gay and in love with wei wuxian, and thus realize that you can eliminate wei wuxian as a threat if wangxian get together. 

you then realize that this also applies to everyone else you see as a romantic threat. so, because you are a problem solver, you come up with a solution: before any of jiang yanli's friends can make a move on her, you will find a way to pair them all off with each other. that way, they will all be too busy dating each other and your path to yanli's heart will be (relatively) clear. 

so instead of being a dating sim, the objective of the visual novel is to help all the various side couples involving yanli's friends get together, so none of them can threaten xuanli. 

ideally, the game will let you freely choose which couples to push together, so there will be a wide variety of routes and endings.

("jiang yanli's friends" in this game is just the set that includes all the mdzs characters more commonly shipped with each other. jiang cheng is there, but he's yanli's brother so he's not a threat. so zixuan's strategy for him is just to keep him available on the side, so he can be paired up with whoever's left over after all the other matches have been made but is still a high enough threat.)

jin zixuan's threat assessments (accuracy not guaranteed):

extremely high:

wei wuxian

high:

nie mingjue (bc of his muscles)

lan xichen (bc he's popular)

wen qing (bc even straight girls would go lesbian for her)

medium:

wen ning (he seems too timid for dating)

nie huaisang (he seems more interested in hookups than dating)

jin guangyao (my own half-brother wouldnt betray me....right?)

low:

mianmian (she's my friend so she wouldn't betray me. also she seems interested in someone else (mr. mianmian))

lan wangji (gay, uninterested in women)

su minshan (too much of a hater)

jiang cheng (brother) 

conditions for victory:

wei wuxian must be paired with someone.

everyone from the high-risk group is paired off.

a maximum of 1 person from the medium-risk group is left unpaired; everyone else from the medium-risk group is paired off.

yanli approval score (explained below) is above a certain threshold.

you do not need to pair up anyone from the low-risk group in order to win; the low-risk group is there purely to help you. pairing off people in the high- and medium-risk group is necessary not because they are actually a threat to xuanli, but rather because jin zixuan will only feel secure enough to confess once almost all of his perceived romantic rivals have been removed.

some game notes:

throuples are allowed.

while wangxian is the most straightforward way to eliminate wei wuxian as a threat, the game also allows for other wei wuxian pairings. in other words, you as the player can betray lan wangji by pairing wei wuxian up with someone else instead - in which case the game is still winnable (ie. jin zixuan can still get together with jiang yanli, which is the victory condition), but you also unlock a special CG of lan wangji crying.

the achievement of the victory condition is decided not just by whether or not you successfully pair everyone else up, but also by a hidden metric called the yanli approval score. this is calculated by your interactions with wei wuxian, jiang cheng, and jiang yanli herself as the game continues: if you are kind to them, then the score goes up, and if you are rude to them, then the score goes down. if your yanli approval score is low enough upon the game's end, then yanli will still refuse to date zixuan even if you've successfully paired everyone else off.

notably, attempting to pair jiang cheng up with someone and then failing nets you a severe yanli approval score demerit, while successfully pairing up jiang cheng with someone nets you a high yanli approval score increase. interestingly, pairing chengxian together nets you the highest increase in yanli approval score.

if you get nielan together and then do not pair up jin guangyao with anyone, then the game gives you the option of putting in the hard work to help him network. it is highly recommended that you take this option, as if you do not, jin guangyao will expose to jiang yanli everything you as jin zixuan have done in the least flattering terms possible, which will make yanli unwilling to date zixuan and will net you a game over.

if you get xiyao together and then do not pair up nie mingjue with anyone, then the game gives you the option of putting in the hard work to find him a hobby. it is highly recommended that you take this option, as if you do not, nie huaisang will push jin zixuan into the traffic and you will get a game over.

if you intend on pairing up jiang cheng with anyone other than wei wuxian himself, then wei wuxian will run interference against you; a successful strategy therefore must include anti-wei-wuxian measures. this remains true even if you previously helped wangxian get together, because wei wuxian is an ungrateful bastard.

if you intend on pairing up jiang cheng with lan xichen, then both wei wuxian and lan wangji will run interference. because of this, the xicheng route is probably the hardest route involving jiang cheng in the entire game; to compensate for this, the xicheng route also has the second-most CGs (after wangxian).

if you get jin guangyao together with someone, then he will offer his assistance to you for the rest of the game. this translates into additional stats, intel, and information on who likes who the most, which will make the rest of your run easier.

if you get nie mingjue together with someone, then nie huaisang will offer his assistance to you for the rest of the game as well. nie huaisang offers the same assistance as jin guangyao above, but he also includes his own commentary and opinions.

you (as jin zixuan) cannot date anyone else. sorry zixuan x other shippers, this is a xuanli game.