#~abi writes

[lavenderdaisychain]

Wondering Why

Summary: When someone you love gets in an accident your parents are forced to come see you. Jack sees why you don’t talk to them, you wonder what you did to deserve him as he continues to pick up your broken pieces

Jack AbbotXfem!reader - established relationship (married)

wc:7.7k

tags: Prosthetic!Jack Abbot, age gap(like late 20s/mid 40s probs)Death, gore, angst, medical innacuracies, descriptions of suicidal tendencies, cursing, fighting, smut, literally SO MUCH PLOT w/happy ending porn, hurt/comfort, Jack going soldier mode and being defensive against your asshole dad

This fic had been living in my head all week so you KNOW I had to post it before tonight!!! Hope y'all enjoy!

December in Pittsburg meant snow and ice, and black ice. On top of your nightly regulars you now had to worry about car wrecks. Junkies, slip and falls, college kids coming home from break and doing stupid shit never phased you. Emergency medicine was your life. But you’d never admit that you lived for the thrill, so quiet nights were absolutely grueling. 

Hour 10

“Mmmm, it’s too qui-” Shen began as he set your coffee down.

“Shen I am not in the fucking mood,” you counter with a deadly tone. Jack giggled from his station, reaching somewhere for Shen’s banned words jar. One dollar for saying any of the banned words but he had to pay 5 bucks if a banned word flipped the whole shift. Thankfully before he could finish the sentence you were whisked away. Shen shrank under your glare as he dumped a couple bills in the Jar.

“Doc…do you have to tell my mom about this?” The 19 year old boy asked sheepishly as you stitched up his leg.

“As long as you can hide the stitch and come up with an excuse for the scar then no,” you placed a gentle hand on his leg as he flinched, “but you probably shouldn’t be stealing vapes and running off. The black ice will kill you before the vapor does.” He rubbed his hands against the back of his head and nodded solemnly as you gave him his care instructions and sent him on his way. You rolled your eyes and let out a small scoff, at least he seemed to understand your tone. Kids these days. Jeez. A knock broke you from your thoughts. 

“Doctor Abbot?” Macie Spencer leaned in the doorway, her usual sunny demeanor had a cloud over it. 

“Hey Macie, what’s up?” you stood from your chair coming to meet her. Kiara was the day shift social worker and a wonderful woman, but Robby’s daughter Macie was the human embodiment of sunshine and kindness no matter what. Seeing her shaken bothered you.

“Dr. Jack is looking for you, I’m gonna keep the family occupied as long as I can but it’s, it’s bad.” You trashed your gloves and ripped a new pair from the box on the wall before rushing to the commotion. Two nurses and security had a man and a woman separated, though the separation just made them shout louder. Jack was on the ground doing compressions on a teenager…whose mouth was covered in blood. You fell next to him, taking over compressions so he could run to grab what he needed. Jack kept asking what she took with no answer from either parent, they were in hysterics. You couldn’t help but stare at the girl’s father, he seemed disoriented, almost like his body was there but he wasn’t. 

“Gurney?!”

“Need to try to get her back first.” 

The mother screamed and cried in Bridget's arms, yelling about how ‘it’ was all her husband's fault, her husband took her daughter away. You tried to hold back your own familial feelings as you continued to do your job, stopping and continuing as Jack instructed. After getting a line in, you moved the girl to a gurney, tubes were everywhere and monitors beeped and blared off and on. You weren’t losing her but you weren’t getting her back either. Her BP and heart rate were high but her blood ox was dangerously low, her lips beginning to turn an odd shade of purple.  

“Macie, find out what the hell she took!” You yelled out into the hall, praying Macie would hear you over the yelling. After a few minutes of needed silence, she slid into the room. 

“Dad said it could be ketamine….or antifreeze.” What. The. Fuck.

“We gotta-,” You looked to Jack, eyes wide with horror. He’d already read your mind and was setting the pump up, after prepping the girl he turned the machine on. Her stomach contents were a sickly green, chunks of her stomach lining coming out with it. You pressed the back of your hand to your mouth to hold back your gag, Jack's hand lingering over the small of your back. After pumping her stomach you pushed charcoal into her IV. Your team worked for another thirty minutes before you would have to deliver the news that she likely wouldn’t be coming off of a ventilator. You ripped your gloves off, in what scenario would she be drinking fucking antifreeze?! Tears began to prick in your eyes but you forced them away, you were prepared to go to that father with a face of stone. 

“I’ll talk to dad, you talk to mom. Keep them separated.” You stated, Jack shot up a brow in your direction, until he caught onto what you were thinking. He squeezed your hand tightly, his wedding band pushed into the flesh of your palm, grounding you. Dad seemed disoriented as you delivered the news, it wasn’t shock but pure denial. You tried to press him for more details but the death of his daughter seemed to be the final crack in the wall, you gripped his elbow, catching him as his knees buckled. “Sir, I am so sorry. This is unimaginable. If she took something that she bought and you knew..I need you to tell me. Help me save someone's son or daughter?” He looked to you with wide, bloodshot eyes, and solemnly shook his head no. 

“It’s too late.” Was all he said. You took a deep breath and let him know that Macie would lead him through the next steps with the police. 

You sat at your station, dragging your hands up and down your face before going back to charting the experiences of the night. A car flew into the ambulance bay, you sighed deeply. What disaster was making its appearance now? The car sped off as you reached the trauma bay doors, yet another homeboy ambulance dumping someone off in the cold. The woman was gaunt, her thin clothes not doing much to shield her from the weather. 

“Need some help!” You hollered, carrying the woman into the ED. Jack ran up to you, taking the woman from your tight grasp. The two of you ran to the closest trauma bay and after stripping and gowning her you began to assess. Her skin was pale and taut, lips turning an odd shade of purplish blue. Her veins were bright against her skin, you pulled her lid up, shining a small flashlight in her eyes. “Mmm, pupils aren’t reactive to light..”

“Blood ox is low, her BP is 86/60, systolic is 10mgs, lets see if we can wake her up.” Jack moved quickly to the front of the patient, rubbing her chest roughly with no response. Jack poked at the taut skin, a thin line pressed into his lips. He was worried about something but keeping it to himself. “Push warm fluids, and get her some warming blankets, I’m worried it could be hypotension caused by hypothermia. Keep a close eye on her, page Dr. Abbot as soon as she wakes up.” 

Jesse nodded as Taylor ran off to get warming blankets, you collected the woman's things that Chase had left and walked back to your station. Your frown deepened as you found nothing to identify her. “Gotta Jane Doe,” you announced as you started a chart on your laptop. The hospital began to buzz as day shift started to come in, the sun hid away as the day started without her. Jack came up behind you placing a kiss to the top of your head.

7am-Hour 12

“I’m so mad you get to go home while I have to work a double,” you grumbled, Jack laughed into  your hair as he leaned down to clock out. How could you stay mad at him when he was just so perfect. He placed a hand on your bicep gingerly and pulled you from your station, before you could protest you were out of the ED and inside the main hospital. Jack slipped your jacket on before following suit, his hand interlacing with your own. His calluses were rough, but a physical attribute of his you loved as he rubbed small circles over your thumb. The two of you were on the roof before you even realized it, sitting against the cold concrete you leaned into your husband. 

“Wanna talk about it?” He played with your hair with one hand and rubbed the other one up and down your waist, using enough pressure to keep you awake. You hummed into his neck, just wanting to share a moment alone before you were thrown back to the wolves. The light scruff on his jaw tickled your lips as you pressed in a kiss, bringing a smile to his face, “I wish I could take you home with me…mmm maybe I could convince Robby to cover,” he mused, pressing kisses into your neck. But you knew that wouldn’t happen, Gloria would chew all of your heads off considering you’d already gotten Jack out of working Christmas Eve AND Christmas. Jack had invited guests so PTMC would have to wait. Your silent bliss was interrupted by the snow that began to fall, Jack kissed you deeply, cupping both sides of your jaw before leaving, he’d be back later to pick you up.

Text me if anything comes up, you know i’ll wake up for you.

Your heart swelled as you walked back into the ER with a fresh cup of coffee, that man would truly give the world for you. And you would let him. Dana pulled you into a tight hug as you gave her an update on the teenage girl in South 10 and the Jane Doe in 15.

“Macie is a natural,” you commented to Robby as he sat next to you, your breakfast in hand. “It’s not an easy case but she’s being wonderful, amazing Macie!” Robby smiled and nodded as he slid your breakfast wrap onto a plate.

“Couldn’t be prouder. Make sure you eat. I already watched too many close call collisions on my walk here, could get busy.”

“I can’t believe you still walk in the snow,” you mumbled through chewing, “I swear you’re like part bear!” Robby decided to ignore the bear comment as he got up to do rounds, you scarfed the rest of your burrito down before checking the board. Triage the waiting room, simple enough and a nice buffer from how your night shift ended. Working a double was never fun when you’d already been working 12 hours but you prayed your shift would go smoothly. But there was one of Shen’s banned phrases popping into your head: smooth shift. 

Between food poisoning, kids with colds and broken limbs from ice, you checked in on your two night patients. Jane Doe’s condition had improved slightly, and Macie was in a heated discussion with the teenage girl's father. You started to walk towards her, feeling the need to protect her when you were pulled away once again.

“The Cracken is back.” You huffed, hands on your hips as you watched the man thrash in his restraints. Robby rolled his eyes at the nickname, he really didn’t like that ‘the cracken’ had become the patient’s name around the ER.

“Should we sedate him?” Dr. Whitaker asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. 

“If you wanna jump in there be my guest but they ace’d him on the ride over,” you flipped your wrist to check your watch. “Give 'em 10 minutes, if he’s still causing problems, come find me.” You clapped his shoulder and went to check in on more patients, confiring with Robby when cases got tough. When the ER seemed to fall into its usual chaos, you took a moment to check on the teenage patient and her parents. When you walked into- Maddy Nichols- room, her mother sat with her holding her hand.

“Hi Mrs. Nichols I haven’t been able to speak with you but I'm Dr. Abbot, my husband and I triaged your daughter last night.” Maddy’s mother looked up to you briefly, her eyes bloodshot and brimmed with tears. You sat beside her, placing your hand over hers. “Maddy’s tox screen came back…do you know why there was antifreeze in her system? I heard you yell that all of this was your husband's fault.” You watched as the young mothers face fell, tears beginning to fall freely.

“He was trying to...to do it himself. He’d blended it in a smoothie so I wouldn’t know but left it out. Maddy saw his and made a fresh one- wa-wanting to sit with her dad and share smoothies. He didn’t clean the blender out…Maddy was just trying to love, love him!” The woman turned and crumpled into your arms. You rubbed her back gently, holding your gaze on Maddy’s gentle face. This poor girl had been taken away from the poor choices of her hurting father. Kiara came in and sat across from the two of you, but you weren’t going to leave until this mother had let out her grief. Robby was on call, the ER could live with one attending for a few minutes.

“I- I’m sorry Dr. Abbot,” Maddy’s mother sniffled, pulling away from you.

“Never, never, apologize for needing to take a minute to grieve. I am so sorry we couldn’t save Maddy, but keep honoring her, talk about her everywhere you go. Listen to her music, watch her favorite movies, and eat her favorite foods when you go out. If you honor her that way she will never leave you.” You squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. 

You introduced her to Kiara and explained why she was there and what her purpose was. “If you want me here when you let her go, I will be.” She nodded silently, turning back to her daughter and softly grazing her face. You took a mental picture of the girl with the note of ‘Maddy Nichols, accidental death, beautiful soul. 

You would honor her.

Hour 17

The Pitt made it to noon when shit really hit the fan. Dana stood on the nurses station, pulling the intercom phone up with her. 

“Code triage, 50 car pileup on the I-, multiple patients are about to be headed this way, move whoever you can upstairs!” Like a well oiled machine everyone worked to move as  many healthy people as possible. You were now jumping from patient to patient, trauma’s varied from case to case but your mortality rate was low: for now. You’d just finished relocating a man’s shoulder when Dr. Vienna Summers walked in.

“I’ll finish this, you need to go,” She stepped in, slowly bringing the man's arm down and placing it into a sling.

“Vi, what are you talking about? Are you leaching my patients?” You joked half heartedly, she turned to you and by the look on her face alone you knew it was bad.

“North 8, Mason and some kid...the kid’s fine but Mason is asking for you.” 

You were out of room and bolting across the ER without waiting for Vi to finish talking. No, no, no, no. Why Mason? What was your little brother doing in Pittsburg and why did he have to be on the interstate with ice out? When you all but slid into the room there were lines everywhere, his left leg was sliced in multiple spots, bone poking out. No,his leg was shattered. He had a bruise covering the entirety of his chest and deep lacerations to his face. 

“Mason??” You ran to his head, he was disoriented but knew you were there, attempting to reach for you, you laid his arm down helping to keep him still. “Talk to me Langdon,” You looked back at Frank who was looking at his leg.

“Lacerations and possible facial fractures, a couple cracked ribs, his hands and arms are okay for the most part but yo-yo is going to have to take him up. I can already tell he’s going to need plates in his leg. The only reason he’s not freaking out is from the morphine.”

“You didn’t give him Ket right?” 

Langdon quirked a brow, you had made sure your brother's medical records were in the system and updated from the day you started at PTMC years ago. “Right,” you sighed, “you have his chart of course you didn’t give him ketamine.” 

Yolanda slid in and started to assess your brother. She wanted a full CT before surgery to get a good look at his face but assured you that she would take the best care of him that she could. You kissed your brother's temple and said a quick prayer over him before he was in Dr. Garcia’s hands. You walked out of the room to find the kid Vi had mentioned. 

“His boyfriend Jasper is in the family room, he’s not hurt but pretty shaken up,” Dana spoke up.

“God I love that you read my mind,” you blew a kiss to Dana before heading into the family room. He was probably in his late teens, only a couple years older than Mason. His clothes were covered in blood and you recognized the shell shocked look on his face. You knocked lightly before walking in and taking a seat next to him.

“Hi Jasper,” Your voice was soft and kind, you placed your hand over his, “Mason is in surgery, but he’s got the best surgeon we have on staff, he's going to be just fine.”

Jasper started to cry, tears free falling from his face, you thought of the mother you’d spoken to only a couple hours ago. You pulled him into a hug, petting his hair softly. “I’m so, so, sorry!”

“Why?” you asked, pulling him up to look you in the eye.

“If he wasn’t with me then this never would’ve happened…his parents found out so he drove into Pittsburg this morning, we were on our way to come see you.” You took a deep breath and brought the boy back into your shoulder. You could imagine the kind of ballistic fight that Mason had gotten into with your father. The funny thing was that they didn’t care if Mason was gay, it was just the fact that he wasn’t with the boy they had picked out. Your parents had planned your lives out since you were born. 

If you followed the plan you would reap the benefits of your family business. If you didn’t, you would be ignored, forgotten. This had happened to you when you decided to come to Pittsburg instead of becoming some royal doctor like your parents had planned.

You thought about your husband. Jack would never be part of their plan, which is why they didn’t know. You and Jack had been together for 6 years and married for 4, but your parents didn’t know. Jack had asked, wanting to meet your father, marry you the proper way: the proper way didn’t matter when he heard how controlling your parents were. Even without COVID regulations your wedding had been small, some of your friends, some of Jack's friends, and the few coworkers the both of you could stand. Mason came after being sworn to secrecy, he walked you down the aisle.

 You hugged Jasper tightly, letting him go to call his parents to come get him but you couldn’t imagine having to have your parents come all the way from Washington to come see Mason. To come see you and Jack. You busied yourself as you waited for Mason to get out of surgery, dreading the thought of calling your parents, Mason's phone was broken in the wreck so you would have to call them yourself. You took a moment to sit with Amelia Nichols as she unplugged her daughter, her husband had been arrested, Amelia was alone. You gave her your number, a support group number, and a tight hug. 

“You should call them honey, before they file a police report,” Dana brought a cup of your favorite tea by your station while you did some charting, you groaned at the fact that she was right. You had no idea how long he had been gone and with his phone not working they would be going ballistic. You walked into the family room and pulled your phone out from your coat pocket. You slowly typed in the numbers, the dread growing in the pit of your stomach. Don’t pick up. Don’t. Pick. Up. Please.

“Hello?”

“Mommy?” Your voice was shaky, your mother sounded worried; tired.

“Oh my god, bunny? Where is Mason? We haven't heard from him. We got in an argument and he flew out of Seattle last night. We don't know where he is!”

“He’s here…in Pittsburg, in surgery. There was a pileup on the interstate...I know you’re probably in Seattle for work but it’s bad Mommy, you both need to come-” and fix this, died on your tongue. Your mother stayed silent, you hung up, you threw your phone against the opposite wall, curling up on the floor in silent, angry tears. You weren’t sure how long you sat there but Melissa King was the one to find you, she gingerly picked up your cracked phone and sat next to you. 

“I know we don’t know each other very well, since we work opposite shifts,” she started, looking at you with honest kindness in her eyes, “but I know you are one of the strongest people here. That means Mason is strong too. We will figure this out, together.” Mel placed her hand on your shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. You wiped the tears from your face and nodded, Vi stood in the door when you got up, Mason was out of surgery.

Hour 20

Mason had definitely seen better days, part of his face and forehead was wrapped from the facial fractures, bruises were blossoming, black and ugly across his ribcage. His left leg had been amputated from his knee down to his foot. You listened intently as Yolanda explained the situation, there was a significant loss of blood and too much soft tissue damage, she’d tried to save his leg but it was too far gone. With a dedicated prosthesis team and a good physical therapist he would be able to get around. You knew he would be fine, with the right prosthetic he could still play sports. If Jack could do everything he did on a prostetic than so could Mason.

“Mason?” you sat at his bed, pushing his curls from his forehead, but he continued to sleep. Garcia said you could take him home once your shift was over…home.

“I clocked you out, and texted Jack since you also broke your phone when you threw it,” Vi rubbed your back, your shoulders slumped. How could this be happening, to your baby brother of all people. “Your mom and dad coming?” You shrugged your shoulders, maybe your mom convinced your dad to come check on his son, maybe he said you could both fuck off. You’d find out soon enough. Vi ended up leaving and Mason woke up soon after. He was still disoriented but you were able to keep him grounded, he tried to ask about your parents but you wouldn’t give him an in. Jack came in around 5:30 to pick up you and Mason, he was still in a considerable amount of pain but Robby was already walking you through home care when Jack came into the room.

“Baby,” Jack pulled you into a tight hug and it took everything in you to not fall apart, Mason was still scared and unsure of his life going forward so you had to stay strong.

“Take us home,” you pleaded, gripping him like a lifeline.

“Yes ma’am.”

-The Abbot Residence 

Your home wasn’t very big, but it was yours. Stonewash grey with white trim, a stone path leading to the front door from the sidewalk and a white picket fence. Jack parked his truck inside the two car garage and helped Mason in. Inside it honestly looked like a slightly modernized 90’s home. You and Jack bought it when you got married and flipped it, the two of you had touched every square inch of the house and made it yours. It was tidy but still a home, medical book, notepads and files were stacked up on the coffee table. A perfectly sized kitchen with an island bar stayed spotless unless you cooked.

The walls were a pale but sunny yellow, dark hardwood floors covered every inch of the house aside from the concrete in the garage and the tile in the bathroom. You threw Mason's duffle bag over your shoulder, grabbed his medicine and walked in yourself. Jack had him propped up in bed in the guest bedroom, which Mason had fully decorated to be his room. You sat on the side explaining what everything was as you sectioned his medication in a pill box, he tried to listen intently buy he was tired.

“Do you need anything baby?”

“Water,” his throat was scratchy from being intubated. You made your trip from the kitchen back to his room fast, opening the water and helping him to drink. After making sure he was comfy you set up a mobile call button so he didn’t have to yell for you.

“You comfy bud?” Jack came in, checking his set up one more time, Mason nodded. You couldn’t help but feel your heart sore watching Jack softly ruffle his hair before placing a kiss to the top of his head. Jack never wanted to be an “old dad” but he had such a way with children, even teenagers. His grumpy war vet facade just seemed to melt around them. Mason fell asleep after getting his night medicine, you tucked him in, kissed his cheek and headed to the kitchen to make a whiteboard chart. Mason had medication at 6- administer more at 2 if needed. Keep close observation-

“I hope this doesn’t mess with our guests that are coming,” You sighed deeply as Jack wrapped his arms around your waist, you rested your head on his shoulder. 

“It won’t,” He peppered your neck in kisses, softly squeezing your sides to relax you, “promise.”

You basked in the silence and the warmth, your sanctuary. You could feel Jack's heartbeat against you, strong and steady like his arms that wrapped protectively around your waist.  You turned into him, your head instinctively finding comfort between his collar bones, he smiled, petting your hair softly.

“Can’t you just stay?” You mumbled into the cotton of his t-shirt, engulfing your senses with his cologne. Jack had never really been a cologne guy, you bought him a bottle your first Christmas dating and he’d been wearing it ever since. 

“Don’t make me regret leaving,” he groaned, capturing your lips in a kiss, you pushed up on your toes trying to capture every inch of him. After the shift you’d just had, and everything with mason, you needed all of him. Your hands slid up his shirt, exploring the canvas of his bare torso. Jack was quite muscular, you found a scar on his ribcage and traced it lightly, you didn’t realize he had led you to the bedroom until you knocked back into a crate. 

“Jer, have you been sleeping this whole time?” You gazed down at the sleeping dog. Her tail wagged excitedly at the sound of your voice. Mom was home!!

“Yeah we went for a run right before Vi called so she’s pretty beat,” Jack grinned, a boyish light coming to his eye. You wanted to scold him for running in the snow and the dangers of it, but he knew the dangers. You pulled Jack in for a few more kisses before he convinced you to take a shower. “I love you no matter what but you smell like the hospital my love.” He cackled like a hyena as a shoe was thrown in his direction, with another kiss goodbye he headed to work.

You let the hot water roll over your body, washing away the day from your skin. Jack had left a lavender shower bomb by the drain, the smell engulfing your nostrils and breaking the tension that had anchored in your chest. After some much needed time alone, you stepped out from the warm confines of the shower. One of Jack's NAVY shirts (your favorite one because it was long enough to cover your butt) and a pair of shorts were already waiting by your towel. God you loved that man. Jerico scratched at Mason’s door, annoyed that her favorite person was being kept away. You knelt down and gently held her face, whispering that Mason needed soft love. Jerico was a retired search and rescue dog so you knew she understood exactly what you were saying. You slowly cracked the door open, Mason was awake but quiet. 

“Hey,” you kept your tone soft as you crawled into bed next to him, “need anything?”

“Mmm, just you. Mom and dad are coming. I'm scared.” You could feel your heart break for Mason, he wasn’t scared of your parents as people but scared of not having their approval. To them; approval was love. You wrapped Mason in your unconditional love, humming lullabies until he fell asleep.

An angry fist rapping against your front door and Jerico’s defensive bark ripped you from sleep, your arm was sore from being wrapped around Mason, you pulled away slowly so as to not wake him before rotating the soreness out. Who would be knocking on your door at 6am?

You groaned, pulling yourself from the comfy bed and the warmth you had in your brother, before trudging across the cold house.

“Can I help you?” You asked, fervently rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The outside cold slipped past your bare legs, causing shivers to ripple through you. Jerico stood between your legs, sniffing at the people standing before you. A low growl slipped past her. Man bad. 

“We’re here for Mason,” that cold shiver took on a different feeling, you pulled your hands away to see your mother and father standing in the doorway. Your father wore his usual scowl, unhappy as always, your mother stood beside him. No, she was hiding behind him, a bitter taste grew in your mouth seeing her be cowardese to your father.

 “Um. Yeah, he’s asleep but come in.” You stepped to the side, Jerico backing up with you but never leaving her place. You watched as your parents seemed to examine your house with scrutiny. Sure it wasn’t the three story house with lavish decor you’d grown up in but it was yours. Yours and Jacks. You mumbled to your father that you needed to change, watching his eyes drag up and down your frame in disapproval. You knew when the roles reversed you would stand tall for Mason but you cursed to yourself for shrinking to him. You’d broken your work phone but picked up your house phone from beside your bed.

Mom and dad are here, I’m handling it. Might be in a bad mood when you get in :(

You hated sending that text as you changed into warmer clothes but it was better for Jack to be prepared. When you walked out of your room, your parents were still standing awkwardly in the entrance hall, your mother holding a picture from your wedding. You ignored them and walked to the kitchen, the open floor plan allowing you to keep an eye on them. 

“Are you hungry? I can make some coffee,” you turned your head in their direction as you pulled fruit and ingredients for breakfast from the fridge.

You are strong, you are loved, you are safe in this home -J 

Seeing the note on the fridge almost made you cry, you smiled softly as you got back to preparing breakfast.

“Who is this?” Your mother's tone made you jump slightly.

“My husband.” You answered as plainly as you could, carefully chopping fruit, your shaky hands didn’t help. Your parents eyes grew wide, they were standing at the kitchen island in a moment, your house wasn’t big but it felt like they’d charged at you. 

Seeing the reminder of one of the best days of your life made the horror melt at the edges. Your dress wasn’t fancy, a plain white flowy dress. Jack wore a navy suit, your eyes both gleaming as you were showing off your rings to the photographer. You frowned at the way your father white knuckled the picture and plucked it from his grasp.

“His name is Jack. He loves me very much, I would suggest watching your usual comments around him, he’s not a big fan of….bullies.” Looking at the pure devotion on your husband's face the day you got married gave you confidence. 

“He’s old enough to be your father, bunny.” your mother quietly remarked.

“You could do better than this cariño, we raised you to do better,” your fathers voice was cold as he gestured to your home. A fire started to burn in your chest and it was angry. How dare your father walk into your life and assume he could have control after 6 years. Six years of regaining your life, six years of being yourself, making your own way. Making your way with Jack Abbot being there every step.

Your parents hadn’t given him an easy task, but he was slow and methodical as he’d broken down your walls, finding a beautiful woman who had been freed. And sure Jack had seen you set back plenty of times, when your mother would come out in you, or when your fathers words would burn your tongue as they escaped your lips. But he never left, he’d been determined to make you his, the only life you’d have was the one where he showered you in the praise and love you deserved. Your eyes were locked on your fathers when Jerico bolted to the guest bedroom, a groan coming from the space. 

“I’m going to check on Mason. He needs his medicine.” You left your father at your kitchen island with his mouth agape, your mother following close behind you. When you entered the bedroom she fell at Mason's side crying in his arms.

“Mason I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry. Your father didn’t mean it,” she petted his hair as she spoke, trying to ground herself. “we will figure it out, just come home please baby.” 

Tears welled in Mason's eyes but he stayed quiet, looking to you for direction. Your ears pricked at the sound of arguing in the kitchen but you decided this was more important.

Moving to the bed you pulled your mother up from the floor.

“Love is all we want. To be loved for being ourselves, choosing our own path.” You held your mothers hands tightly, you’d tried to have this conversation with her before coming to Pittsburg but she had been so absorbed in her plan she wouldn’t listen. Now, with her son injured as a result she had no choice. 

“I want to be a part of the family on my own terms. My plan.” Mason finally spoke, your mother nodded her head furiously as she held him tightly. You left some pills and a water bottle by Mason’s bed before interrogating the arguing in the kitchen.

The tension was palpable. Jack stood at the kitchen island, white knuckling the counter top. Your father sat across from him, arms crossed with a smug look on his face. Oh god, Jack was gonna kill him.

“Jack, you’re home,” You walked swiftly to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist. He looked drained, mentally and emotionally. Your phone had been quietly buzzing on the counter, warning of Jack's incoming state. And instead of his lovely wife he was greeted by her father. Who hated Jack simply for loving her. 

“How’s Mason?” He sighed, practically melting into your touch. It was at this moment you’d realized your father didn’t even ask how his son was.

“He’s a tough kid just like I raised him to be,” you answered lightly, carefully watching the anger come back in your fathers eyes. “Yo-yo already sent me a number for a few prosthetics teams, and I emailed the place you got yours. The VA typically doesn't do civillians but he said he owed you a favor, so as long as he’s done growing we can start that process soon.” Jack nodded, keeping his eyes trained on your father.

“Why does he need prosthetics? What are you talking about?”

“Oh. I’d almost forgotten you hadn’t bothered to ask about him,” your words cut deep, the anger finally coming out in you. “Mason had to have part of his leg amputated. The damage from the wreck was too severe.” 

You watched as a sea of emotions played on your fathers face, anger, sadness, maybe even a little spite? He took a deep breath before hitting you with the final blow of his trip.

“Then I guess you and your….husband can keep him. I have no use for another child who will amount to nothing.”

Jack's hands were on his throat before either of you could react, sending the bar stool he was sitting on flying. Your brain went fuzzy at the words, that was all the confirmation you needed that your parents would be leaving but Mason would not. Your whole body tingled with the sensation, not realizing Jack was beating your father till Mason was yelling.

“Yeah get his ass J!!”

“Mason!” Your mother shrieked pulling him back into the guest room. He was wobbily considering the half missing limb. You looked to Jack who had certainly laid a few blows to your fathers face. All it took for him to stop was your fingertips grazing his shoulder.

“You will get out of our home, without your son and your wife,” Jack spoke lowly, a growl rumbling in his throat. “And if I ever hear you talk to or about my wife the way you have today, I will make you wish you were mute.” Jack and your father were on their feet, your father screaming incessantly about how Jack would be hearing from his lawyer. “Call your fuckin lawyers I don’t give a damn. But know you just lost everything good thing you have and you don’t even realize it!” Jack slammed the front door and locked it. You wrapped your arms around him, keeping your body flush to his back.

“Thank you.”

“Baby,” Jack turned around so you were looking at him, the anger that had sat in his eyes replaced with soft love. “I will always defend you from assholes who don’t deserve you.”

You hated to admit that seeing him be defensive, going into soldier mode, it lit a different fire in you. You swiftly walked to the guest room and announced that your father was gone and you’d start to print the divorce papers for your mother. She seemed frightened about what your father would do but you weren’t afraid of anything when you knew your husband had your back all the way. 

Your breakfast ingredients had been abandoned on the kitchen counter, your mother decided to go pick up breakfast and Mason turned on the TV in his room, needing something to escape the chaos that had just happened.

“We have 30 minutes.” You announced as you followed Jack into your room, locking the door behind you. Jack sat at the foot of the bed, removing his prosthetic, being on it consistenly bothered him. For a second you thought about Mason before pushing it aside.

“Are you caging me in Mrs. Abbot?” Jack asked, amusement plastered on his face. 

“All I’m saying is you had a shitty night and had to have a shitty morning, consisting of throwing my father out of our house…I want to make it up to you,” 

The running water of the hot shower masked the abhorrent sounds escaping your lips. Lips and teeth and tongue were in a battle for control. Jack had you flush against the shower wall, using both you and the wall to balance himself.

“M’ sorry about my dad,” you managed through kisses. Jack pulled away, holding your face as his hazel eyes bore into you. God, why did he have to be so captivating? 

“We’re not doing that. I have to admit your parents were the guests that were coming,” he sighed, the creases in his forehead deepening, “I wanted to understand. See it for myself, I should’ve never brought them into our home.”

He waited for you to yell, to leave the shower and berate him, so your deep kisses came as a surprise. Part of you wanted to scream and yell, but the other part of you just couldn’t be mad that he wanted to love you that much more. 

“I love you.”

Jack picked you up and you wrapped your legs around him tightly. Your His muscles rippled beneath your legs as you held each other like a lifeline. He faltered slightly, gripping you with one hand and pushing the other against the wall. He peppered kisses from your collar bone down to the dip in your breasts, singing praises to you as he did. Jack was going to take his time. He was tired, so fucking tired, but you gave him life. He could sleep the day away with you in his arms, but right now, you both needed this. Your hands roamed his back, leaving nail marks in their wake, he was all yours and you were never afraid to claim him. You needed more.

“Jack..” you whined. His eyes shot up from your breasts, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. He placed you on a small shelf that stuck out about waist level. ‘Work smarter not harder’ he’d said as you’d watched him install it years ago. ‘Getting old, don’t wanna have to hold you up the whole time.’ You knew he also used it as a support for his leg, but the thought of him wanting to fuck you that much in the shower made it increasingly better.

You watched as he lowered himself to your sweet spot, small bated breaths escaped your lips. Your hands flew into his silver curls. He started agonizingly slow, feeling every inch of you he could take in his mouth, you yelped as you bucked into his face, his nose hitting your sweet spot. The laugh that drummed against you helped absolutely nothing, only taking you higher.

Your thoughts were hazy but you knew one thing, you would never be good enough for him. You often wondered why he caved, why he let you of all people in. But you would make sure to get on your knees and thank god for him every single day.  “So sweet, so loving, so perfect,” he came back up, capturing you in another kiss. “And all mine. No one else gets you but me,” that boyish grin made an appearance again, sending you reeling as you all but jumped back onto him. You took a moment to really look at him, freckled skin that was often tense now relaxed as he stood before you. He was covered in scars, some white and almost faded, some newer- still red with anger. You traced a scar on his chest, it sat perfectly between his pecs. You remembered that day, he’d been attacked by a vet that came in. He didn’t mean to hurt Jack, he’d been triggered into an episode and attacked on instinct. You almost cried patching him up, the first realization you could lose him, but he reminded you that he was tough. And he would always come home to you.

You slipped off of your perch and switched places with Jack so he could lean on it as you began placing soft, gentle kisses on all his scars. “You're so brave, and strong,” you spoke lowly, sinking to your knees as you kissed the insides of his legs. Jack only hummed, his eyes had fluttered closed as he had taken part of your hair in his hands. “You deserve everything.” You said as you took his length in your hands, stroking it slowly. Jack leaned back, white knuckling the tile to ground himself. 

“Fuck me.” He grunted through gritt teeth.

“I’m trying,” that response got a laugh, his eyes opened as he smiled down at you. You rose moved him again so you could perch yourself on the seat, taking his length with you. Sex with Jack was always like the very first time, it never got old. You lined him up to take you, your eyes were locked in each other, his breath as shallow as he watched you. His gaze was calculated, the gears turning slowly as he panted. You scooched to the edge, trying to stay as close to him as possible.

“Take me.” 

“Y-yes ma’am,” Jack grabbed the fat of your hips to hold you in place before letting himself in. You didn’t think you would ever adjust to how big he was, the heat in your stomach was building, ready to tip over. Jack's head fell into your shoulder as he found his pace, going faster than he had with his tongue but not fast enough to hurt you. Your bodies had become one as the hot water started to run cold, but you didn’t care. Jack panted in your ear, you pressed deep hungry kisses into his freckled shoulder.

“Gonna,”

“Uh huh me too,” 

Jack reached a hand from the small of your back and used his fingers to tease you even more, you bit into his shoulder trying to suppress the moan that escaped your throat. Your hands were tangled in his hair, at the top and at the nape of his neck. You pulled his hair just enough to get a reaction, he nipped at your neck. With a few bucks of your hips, you were spent, Jack held your hips incredibly still. He wanted to make sure you could feel all of him as your walls tightened one last time. Jack cleaned you off before turning the shower off, wrapping the two of you in a towel and staggering to bed.

“I’m home,” your mother called as she opened the door. The smell of French toast making your stomach growl.

“Nice timing Doctor Abbot, truly impeccable,” Jack teased, pressing a kiss into your neck. You giggled and kissed him back. 

“Coming mom!” You hollered back as you threw on whatever warm clothes you could find. “Sleep my love, I’ll be back later,” you laid Jack down in the bed, having to fight him off of you as his fingers fiddled with the band of your sweatpants, your laughter echoed through the room and straight to his heart.

“Love you,”

“Love you too,”

Sure your life hadn’t been perfect, your family was in for a ride, but you were together. And more importantly you had Jack Abbot, who would do anything to protect and keep you. After all, he took till death do us part to the very depths of his soul. He never broke his promises. 

Edit: I FUCKING KNEW HE WAS GONNA HAVE A PROSTHETIC- felt deeply inclined to adjust after seeing that.

taglist: @ebodebo @sceletaflores @yuenity @kchronicallyonline

[thoughtkick]

Detachment is not that you should own nothing, but that nothing should own you.

Ali ibn abi Talib

[perfectfeelings]

When proven wrong, the wise man will correct himself and the ignorant will keep arguing.

Ali ibn Abi Talib

[bloodibambiidoll]

OOOHHHH 🐇🐇 “can i take a picture?” + rafe muahahaha

Okay so I took a lil bit of a different approach and we took a pic of him and not the other way around😜 thank u my love @babygorewhore for brainstorming w meee🖤✨

Warnings: dirty pictures, unprotected sex, cum eating, slightly pervy reader, less than 700words 18+MNDI!! Weird Girl!AU

You were riding Rafe like a fucking pornstar. You were leaning back with your hands resting on his muscular thighs while you bounced on his cock like a rabbit in heat. The angle you were at made it so he could see the way your tight wet pussy swallowed him with each thrust of your hips, your head was thrown back with your chest on full display, causing your tits to bounce deliciously.

“Shit, baby, your pussy is so fucking good, so tight, practically sucking me in. Oh fuck - you’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum.” Rafe lets out a strangled groan as his hands fly to grip tightly onto your thighs.

You continue to slam your hips against his, unable to take your eyes off him. You can tell by the way his mouth is dropped open and the quickness of the breathy gasps leaving his lips that he’s about to cum. His hands squeeze your thighs even tighter as his eyes roll back and you feel his cock start to twitch inside you. You let him start to fill you and then abruptly pull off of him, taking his cock in your hand as you use your juices to work him through his orgasm. When he comes down from his high his hand immediately grips onto your hair, pulling your face down close to his.

“What the fuck was that?” Rafe practically growls at you as his eyes bore into yours.

“Just wanted to see how pretty you’d look all covered in cum is all…” you whine as you run your hand down his chest, lightly scooping up a bit of the cum there. You bring your fingers to your lips, greedily sucking his juices off of them with a moan.

“Are you? You’re so fuckin’ weird sometimes, you know that?” Rafe scoffs, rolling his eyes as he lets his grip on your hair fall. You push yourself up on your hands so you can get a better view of him.

“I was right, you look so yummy.” You giggle as your eyes roam his form. His toned abs are painted with his pearly cum, his skin is flushed, his lips are kiss swollen from your earlier make out session, and his hair a sweaty and pushed back off of his face. “Can I take a picture?”

“What? Hell no. I’m not letting you take a picture of me all vulnerable and covered in my own nut and shit. My cock isn’t even all the way hard anymore.” He looks at you like you’re insane but it only makes the hearts in your eyes grow.

“C’mon, pleaaasee?” You look down at him, your eyes wide and your lips pushed out so far he feels the blood going to his cock again just thinking about shoving it between them. “You have so many of me!! Tied up and with your cock down my throat and shit, I just want one, please?”

“Oh my fuckin’ god, fine. Hurry the fuck up with it I wanna take a shower.” He groans, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. You do a little happy dance as you grab your phone off his nightstand.

“Get your hands off your face, Rafey, you’re ruining my vision.” You tap your little manicured hand on his forearm and he lets his arms fall to his sides. “Look at me.”

He shakes his head as he turns it towards you, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek in annoyce, and maybe just a little hint of embarrassment.

“Stop looking so grumpy.” You reach your hand out and grip his jaw, you slip your thumb across his bottom lip, pulling it down slightly. Before he can protest you raise your phone up and snap a photo, and then another, and another.

“Alright, enough, quit that shit out. You got your fuckin’ picture.” He grabs onto your hand, pulling it away from his face and turning his head so he can nibble at your wrist. You look down at your phone giddily, happy with the finished product. “Now get your lil’ ass in the shower before I beat it till it’s purple and blue.”

[love-that-we-were-in]

lighting the fuse might result in a bang

pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader summary: Silena thinks you need to start blowing off some steam. You think you just need a fresh victory and Luke Castellan is the perfect opponent. word count: 5.3k warnings: smoking, drinking, usual college party stuff.

author's note: brought to you by my personal deep dark history with boys in hats. also i haven't gotten drunk in like 4/5 years so i don't remember what it's like so this was interesting. also i don't know anything about frats OR smoking. have the most fun <3

When Silena mentions a party you could go to, you jump at the offer, brain fuzzing at the edges where you’ve been locked in on flashcards all afternoon. It’s something you’ve started to navigate better this year, remembering to have fun after a year of non-stop focus. Silena makes it easier - a social butterfly with no qualms about dragging you out of the library when she thinks you’re pushing yourself too hard - and there’s no harm in listening to her without protest sometimes. 

“Do you even know who’s throwing this one?” You ask as she’s leading you through campus, rubbing at your arms to fight the fall chill. “I do not want a repeat of March.” 

“Have some faith in me. I’ve started vetting my sources.” 

Both of you shiver, the memory of a night spent outside the Stolls’ cramped dorm still haunting you six months later. You’re not overly familiar with this side of campus, turning away from the usual halls and towards the sorority housing, but Silena walks the path with ease, arm looped through yours.

The walk seems to have cleared your head, the music as you approach shaking off the last of the static. You’ve been here before, borrowing notes from a teammate, but it’s different like this, all pumping bass and cheers from the kitchen. Clarisse waves at you from across the room, beer in hand, and you mutter to Silena that you’re going to grab a drink. She nods, making a beeline for Drew Tanaka. You assume that’s who the invitation came from originally.

There’s a different energy to the kitchen, not quieter by any means but less noisy. Less concentrated, maybe, with twenty different conversations happening at once and nothing you have to pay attention to. Most people you don’t recognise, a group from your first year stats class huddled together near the sink, and the Stolls off to the side pointing at every new person they see. 

Mixing your drink is an easy fix, the kitchen island covered in more choices than you’ve seen in a while, and you savor the first few sips. Between class and swimming, you’ve barely drank since the semester began and the burn of vodka isn’t as numbed as you wish it was. Still, a drink is a drink so you refill it before returning to the thick of the party. 

Clarisse takes it upon herself to drag you away from the conversation you end up trapped in with Lee Fletcher, quite literally taking hold of your elbow. You mutter an apology, however disingenuous, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation as he smiles grimly. 

“I have no idea how you talk to that lot,” she says when you’re far enough away. “They’re all boring.” 

“Lee’s great. He always lends me notes from the lectures I miss.”

She laughs, pushing you into another room. “He’s trying to swindle a date out of you and you’re using him for lecture notes.” 

You shrug. There’s nothing wrong with Lee, except that Clarisse is a little right when she says most of your classmates are boring. It’s probably not intentional, and they definitely don’t realize it, but there’s this way they carry themselves around campus - half-nervous and half-haughty. It’s not a great combination and it’s why you gravitate towards the people Silena meets. 

“We were wondering when we were going to see you next,” Chris says as he throws an arm over Clarisse’s shoulder. You still don’t quite know the story there, how Chris Rodriguez managed to sweet talk your stoic teammate. One day, you’ll find out - a drunken vow you made with Silena on your dorm room floor when Clarisse mentioned a boyfriend - but you’re content to let them enjoy their romance in peace for now. “Almost thought you’d succumbed to the dark side.”

“You’re not getting rid of me yet.”

“And thank god,” he knocks his cup against yours before gesturing to the far corner of the room. “Because we need someone to kick Castellan’s ass at beer pong.” 

“Whose?”

Turns out, Luke Castellan is the newest brother to ksig. There’s not much to know about Chris’ fraternity in your eyes, just the basics of all frats, and you know from last year that there’s always bound to be a hotshot that needs someone to pump the brakes on their ego. Usually, they’re on the younger side, with more money than sense and they don’t expect anything from your approach. Luke Castellan isn’t quite that, but he’s not far from it either.

While Chris talks to the boy who was about to play, you take the opportunity to size up your opponent. It comes naturally, a part of constantly competing, and it comes in handy in moments like this, when the element of surprise is a key factor to the situation going ahead. 

Fitted jeans, branded polo and a stupid snapback cap worn backwards to show how cool he is. Nothing you haven’t seen before, really, except there’s this focused glint in his eyes with each plastic ball he throws like he has to prove his worth here. It’s a simple practice, unnecessary for a silly party game, but there’s this serious set to strong shoulders that you’re curious about.

The same way you want to know about Clarisse’s relationship, you want to know what makes Luke Castellan, whoever he is, tick. 

“Are you trying to get alcohol poisoning, Rodriguez?” 

“I’m not playing you, Luke,” Chris says and you watch closely as the other boy tilts his head slightly to the left. “I just had to go and get the current undefeated champion on campus.”

There’s this moment that happens every time you play - those awkward seconds where everyone looks completely past you to anyone else, anyone more noticeable. You count on it, occasionally, so it takes you a moment to process the way Luke’s gaze slides to you, drinks you in before he nods towards the other end of the table. 

Chris mutters a quiet “you got this,” as you brush past him, handing him your drink. You’re not delusional enough to think you can get away with mixing your drinks this early in the game. 

It takes two of Luke’s shots for you to land your first, his last hour of playing an advantage you accounted for. He’s not getting sloppy, not in the slightest, but he’s at the point where he’s a little worse for wear - a tired arm and hazy mind - and you take the chance you have at a false sense of security, taking your losses on the chin before playing the game to win. 

Within seven shots between you, you can see Luke start to get restless. How he reevaluates the table in front of him, his three empty cups to your four. Part of you really wants to knock that hat off his head, as if it’ll give you more of an insight into his mind. Instead, you wait for what you know is coming, a slight miscalculation that has the plastic ball rolling off the table to land at someone’s feet. 

Chris hands you a fresh one and you take in the way Luke swallows, jaw clenching as you line up your next shot. Whether he knows it or not, you’ve just been handed your win.

Clarisse cheers, handing you one of the cups from in front of you as everyone yells. You both chug what’s left of them, the bitter taste of cheap beer drowned out by victory, and as soon as that’s done, she throws herself back into Chris’ arms. Laughing, you turn around to find another drink, only to be met by Luke standing beside you.

“Are you about to be a sore loser?” 

He chuckles and it’s different like this. His eyes are brown, which you didn’t know five minutes ago, and his hair is dark from the little wisps of it you can see peeking out underneath his hat. You consider telling him that the hat makes him look lame, but then he’s leaning down to whisper anyway. “I expect a rematch.” 

It’s quiet and heavy and you wonder if anyone can tell that your blood feels like it’s on fire. It’s nothing, really, and it takes more effort than you want to respond. 

“Then expect to lose.”

The only saving grace to the exchange is that Luke looks a whole lot more affected by it, a blush crawling up his neck as you take the drink nearest to you and leave to find your roommate once more. 

*

Losing never used to get to you. Not like this, at least, where everything sort of feels like a precipice and you’re waiting for the next loss to fall on your shoulders alone. It was meant to be an easy game, a warm-up, for when the season started in earnest and you couldn’t afford to be incohesive. There’s always a learning curve, new starters and new competition, but in no world should it have caused this. 

Silena tells you to let it go, throwing yet another outfit on her bed as she gets ready. When you saw her at lunch, Clarisse told you to just push harder during practice. Sometimes you’re not even sure how you can be friends with both of them, how they can be friends with each other either. Unfortunately, it becomes very clear when Clarisse knocks on the door that night. 

“Why aren’t you ready?” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

She tuts at you, digging through the pile of clothing on Silena’s bed before throwing a dress at you. “Get dressed.” 

“You can’t make me,” you protest, the black fabric scrunching in your fist. You’ve borrowed it before, for a party last year you don’t remember very well, and you don’t even want to consider why it’s the one Clarisse selected. You turn to your roommate, looking for backup, only to find her with a pair of your shoes in her hands. “Are you seriously going to make me?” 

In unison, they raise a singular eyebrow each and it’s unsettling enough that you let go of all will to fight them. Today may as well just be full of losses that you can mourn tomorrow.

It’s only when you arrive at the party that you realize you have no idea who’s throwing it. Or who’s going to be there. Distantly, you really hope it’s a stranger Silena met on her way around campus - full of people you’ve ever met and will never see again. You could find someone nice enough to blow off some steam with before going on your merry way. 

When Clarisse yells at her boyfriend, you let out a huff as both he and Luke Castellan turn around. 

Since your first meeting, you’ve learned a few more things about Luke. He’s from Connecticut. He was responsible for half of Drew’s sorority coming down with the flu during freshers week. He’s in pre-med. He’s the reason Professor Chase introduced a ban on energy drinks in his lectures (one hundred students simultaneously opening a can of Redbull each was, apparently, mildly disconcerting). Most importantly, he’s always wearing that stupid cap. 

You try to equate the things you know with the Luke standing in front of you. Some of it makes perfect sense - Professor Chase and Connecticut - and some of it unsettles you, but it’s all true. Freshers and pre-med and track meets. Focusing on the distracted way he taps on his beer bottle instead of Clarisse greeting Chris, you kind of want to find out a whole lot more. 

“Fancy a rematch?” 

It’s the first thing he’s said to you all night, twisting the cap off a fresh beer before handing it to you. Then doing the same with his own. You pretend not to notice the movement of it, the few short seconds where you can get away with staring at the shine of silver rings in low light. Taking a sip, you crinkle your nose. 

“I’m not really in the mood,” you mutter and, at the very least, the beer is cold and you chug half of it before you even notice you’ve done it. “Don’t you have someone else you can bother?” 

There’s seconds before you notice it, how his eyes shift from slightly curious to intense. They don’t change much but standing in front of him, you can tell when they go from relaxed to focused. How his back straightens and shoulders roll back just so. You should go and find something stronger to drink. Maybe even see if Lee Fletcher is nearby.

You stay put.

“It’s just a bit of friendly competition,” Luke shrugs, unknowing of how it echoes in your skull. How that’s all today was ever meant to be. Leave it to him to dig the knife in again just as the tightness in your chest was starting to ease. “But I guess you just can’t handle it.” 

“I’d kick your ass in a rematch. I’m doing you a favor.” 

It’s obviously the wrong thing to say, Luke’s eyes brightening as the words push past your lips. The beer you drank way too fast is forming words before you even know what they are.

“You can always choose something else for me to beat you in,” he says, like it’s an offer, something gracious that you should be grateful for. “I’m easy.” 

“How many beers have you had?” 

“Three, I think?” 

Silena would tell you it’s a stupid idea - you have a coaching session at 9am and you haven’t gotten drunk since the party where you met Luke - and she would be right. But you need a win tonight, something guaranteed, and there’s this itch that crawls under your skin the longer you stare at the boy in front of you. 

So you say it anyway. 

“I bet I could outdrink you.” 

“I’d like to see you try.”

He waits as you down two more beers in quick succession, nursing his own as you do. A clink of your bottles against one another, followed by the final sip you each take and it’s finally a competition. 

The night continues, you and Luke almost joined at the hip. It’s to keep track, you tell yourself, talking to a kid that might be in your organic chem class. If the kid looks at you weird for pouring two drinks, only to hand one to Luke in silence, that’s probably just the alcohol misreading things. Only once, when you’re deep in conversation with Lee does Luke pass you a beer, eyebrow raised when Lee gives him a glare. You think that might’ve been drink eight. 

By the time Chris finds you both again, you’ve thrown yourselves onto the couch on the outskirts of the room. Someone’s abandoned coat is thrown over your legs in a mediocre attempt to preserve some dignity in the dress you’re wearing and Luke’s hat has twisted to the side. You’re sure neither of you has drunk a sip in ten minutes.

“You guys doing okay?” 

“We’re drunk,” you say and you can’t tell if it’s a whisper or a shout. “I’m winning.” 

“You’re not winning,” Luke turns his head to glare and you blame the alcohol on the attention you pay to the slope of his nose. “Neither of us have finished these drinks.” 

“Are you going to?” 

He glances down at the cup in his hand, half empty. You can see it, the hesitation, before he places it on the floor by his feet, shaking his head. “Are you?” 

The nice thing to do would be to give up, call it a draw and appreciate that you managed to have fun despite the bad day that had preceded it. However, you like to win. So you grit your teeth before drinking the final three sips, tilting the empty cup towards him so he can see the proof. It takes you a second to remember you have to actually swallow in order to drink, but you do and Luke scrunches his nose. You kind of want to kiss it as a way to smooth the skin back out.

“That’s two wins to me, Castellan.” 

Chris shakes his head at you both. “I’m not calling either of you to make sure you’re alive in the morning.” 

*

It’s an almost unconscious action when you walk into Drew’s sorority house, how you wave Silena off in favor of scanning the crowd, searching for the one reason you agreed to show up in the first place. It takes a moment, pinks and blues and silvers all merging together in your eyeline until you spot him near the staircase, familiar black cap resting on his head. 

You’re already a little buzzed, the thrill of your final project this semester finally being handed in just hours ago, and it’s why you let yourself actually look at Luke for once. 

By this point, you’ve seen him in a polo and a flannel, always with jeans. Laidback. That’s what party Luke was. Tonight, though, it’s like he’s trying harder - baggy pants, like they’re resting a little too low on his hips, a white t-shirt, white trainers that you know are going to stain before the night ends and a slightly oversized leather jacket that doesn’t quite go with the hat you used to identify him. Maybe it’s something he does on purpose, ruining a good thing over comforting familiarity. Maybe you’ll ask him.

Luke looks up then, as if he has a sixth sense, and you kind of don’t know what to do with the slight wave he sends in your direction. You wouldn’t call him a friend, that’s for sure, but you nod in response before weaving through your classmates to the kitchen.

It takes two vodka cranberries for Silena to find you. And it takes four shots with people you’ve never met for Chris to ask if you’ve seen Luke anywhere. You tell him where you last saw him, maybe an hour ago, and he shakes his head like he’s already checked the entire house.

“Do you think you can let him know I’m heading out?” Chris asks, one arm looped around Clarisse’s waist, more for support than anything else. She was already unsteady when you arrived and you know by the flush in her cheeks that it’ll only take a couple more drinks for her to start throwing up. You nod at Chris, cradling your drink to your chest, and he mumbles a thanks while steering his girlfriend towards the door.

With both of them gone, it leaves you with little to do except go hunting for Luke. So that’s what you do, waving Lee off as he attempts to grab your attention from the couch. 

Focusing is a lot harder now, squinting over everyone’s heads in search of that damn hat. Nothing. You know he’s not in the kitchen, that’s definite, and you learn that he’s not in the garden either, Katie from your anatomy class staring at you bewildered as you explain your quest. 

There’s only one place left to check for Luke and you consider if it’ll be a worthwhile risk. It’s entirely possible that he’s already left, whoever he was locked in conversation with earlier with him maybe, and you’re searching an entire sorority house on the off-chance he’s still in the building. 

But you promised Chris. More than that, you refuse to let Luke Castellan beat you.

So you commit to the staircase, pushing past the line for the restroom upstairs. It’s quieter up here, not by much, but you can hear yourself think clearer. There’s three doors on your left, all closed, and you drain the remnants of your drink so it warms your blood and erases the small part of your brain still protesting. 

There’s two yells when you knock on the first door, both hurried and pitching higher as the words fade so you move on quickly. No one answers to the second door, so you crack it open enough to see inside. It’s dark and neat and completely untouched by whatever is happening below, so you let it click shut again. 

Luke is in the third room, you learn, pressing it open when there’s no response to your knock. The room itself is still orderly, but you find the boy you’ve been searching for sitting on the floor at the base of the bed, hat turned to the side and the sleeves of his jacket bunching carelessly where they’ve been pushed higher on his forearms. 

“Chris wanted me to tell you he took Clarisse home,” you blurt when it feels like you need to say something. “He couldn’t find you so…”

Luke waits. When it becomes clear that’s all you’re here for, he says, “Well, thanks for letting me know.” 

You’ve done your job. You can go back and enjoy the party downstairs, maybe make use of the empty room next door instead of remaining awkwardly in the doorway. 

You think about how Chris mentioned that Luke can recite pi to seventeen places while drunk. How you’re still beating him by two points. How there’s an ashtray on the floor beside Luke’s knee and it’s sort of considerate of him to use one when no one else would.

“Mind if I join you?” 

Being in an empty bedroom with a guy at a party isn’t unusual. You’ve had your fair share of them, rushed and quiet and mostly on a bed. Sitting on the floor with Luke is different, you find, a gravity to it than you can’t quite wrap your head around after so many drinks. It’s slow and languid and you don’t really say much of anything as your knee bumps against his thigh in an effort to get comfortable in the space.

No one told you Luke smokes. 

You tell him as much.

“It’s a bad habit,” he shakes his head, twisting a cigarette between his fingers and you both act like you’re not paying rapt attention to it. “I try to avoid making it one.” 

“I used to. Back in high school. Gave it up when I got accepted here.” 

He turns to face you then, head tilted so the visor of his slanted hat brushes his shoulder. “I would never have guessed you were a smoker.” 

It’s not said with judgment, just as an observation from the limited interactions you’ve had since the semester began. The focus in Luke’s gaze crawls up your spine and mingles with the alcohol you’ve yet to flush from your system. 

“You ever blown a smoke ring?” 

If you’re not challenging him, you don’t quite know what to make of Luke. It’s the thing you know most about him, the way his face shifts from victory into loss. The way it matches yours, stretches from his eyes to his jaw and into clenched hands. If you’re not challenging him, you can’t read him - you want to be able to read him in the low light of right now. 

“I bet I’m better at it than you,” you say after he answers. A short laugh escapes him, almost a huff, and it raises the skin on your arms when it meets the top of your ear. “Wanna see?” 

“I’ve only got one.” He waves the cigarette he’s been holding in front of your eyes. 

“We can share.” 

It’s a bad, terrible, absolutely stupid idea. 

“You’re on, Castellan.” 

As he lights the end of it, you wonder if he knows what the brief flame does for his cheekbones, for his jawline. Paints them in small, defined shadows that you might still see if you close your eyes. You almost want to mention it to him. You settle for watching his lips settle around it, the sinking of his cheeks on the inhale and the noise as he exhales. There’s an almost complete ring of smoke in the air.

Luke hands you the cigarette and you repeat his motions, a little quicker. A little smoother. The ring that leaves your lips is full, but less circular. 

Both of you pretend not to notice the other one staring.

You agree to best of three. You agree and you win by the tiniest margin and you hand Luke the little that remains as a consolation prize. He indulges in the last few drags and you watch him do it, looking nothing like the pre-med student you know he is. You think he could be dangerous like this, based on the way your stomach twists as he puts the cigarette out, how his head tilts back and the final wisps of smoke escape his mouth.

You aren’t as drunk anymore. 

You really wish you were.

It takes Luke a second to notice that you’ve moved at all, eyes still closed but he does, and the run of his gaze across your face is enough for you to seize the last of the alcohol in your bloodstream, pushing forward so you’re actually face to face with him, knees digging into the rough carpet beneath you. 

“Can I help you?” It’s low and a little ragged and this is the first time you’ve really noticed the thin, pale scar that stretches down the skin of his right cheek. It’s actually a little insane how pretty he is up close. 

“I think I want a little more than the glory of winning this time,” and half of your whisper is lost to Luke Castellan’s lips but it’s not that important anyway.

What is important is the warmth of his hand through your shirt, pressed into the skin that exposes itself as you shift even closer. It’s the slightly rough texture of his jaw underneath your palm, the way his breath hitches in tandem with yours and you both push through it anyway. It’s the unexpected catch of your finger on his cap and the way you give up on it entirely, finally snatching it off his head so it lands somewhere nearby. 

You’re not sure what you expected Luke’s hair to look like. Horrible, probably, with odd patches that lie weirdly flat and should be covered from view. It’s not this, wild dark curls that deserve to be seen. 

“You have curly hair?” You say it before you can think not to, so caught up in the discovery you’ve just made, and Luke squints at you, unsure. “I can’t believe you have curly hair.” 

He’s preparing a smart-ass comment, you know it by the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip, and that’s really just not going to work this time - not when he’s been lying for months behind a hat. So you do what any sane person would, twist your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck and trail your lips across his jaw like you’ll die if you don’t.

His hand hooks underneath your thigh and, when you bracket his waist between your legs, cool leather brushing against your knees, you think this might be the best victory you’ve experienced yet.

*

Silena knows something is up when you refuse to speak to her about the party. There’s few secrets you’ve kept from each other since meeting, and even less since Clarisse got involved. It’s pointless to try, mostly, since they all spill out of you when the lights go out and you’re left with each other's company. You almost forgot how annoying she could be when she’s pushing for information.

“Don’t think I’m going to tell you either,” you say when Clarisse joins you in the library a week after the party. “I am a fortress of secrets.” 

“I know you hooked up with Luke.” 

“Seriously?” 

She rolls her eyes, passing you the book you’d asked her for during practice last night. “Calm down. Chris told me. I’m down ten bucks now.” 

“You bet on it?”

“Of course we did, it’s our brand.” 

“I’m not telling Silena,” you whisper again, frowning at your notes. You wonder if Clarisse is aware you haven’t actually spoken to Luke since that night. “She’ll make it a big deal for nothing.” 

“I won’t tell but you should probably figure out what happens next. There’s a party at ksig tomorrow night before everyone goes home for the holidays.” You tap your pen against the textbook. Clarisse pushes a slip of paper towards you. Someone’s phone buzzes to your left. “Think about it.”

When she’s long gone, you grab the paper she left from the table. It’s wrinkled and you smooth it as best you can beneath your fingertips. Blue ink, messily scrawled, and you commit it to memory. Closing your textbook, you leave it pressed between chapters seven and eight. 

The party is loud, louder than you’re prepared for after flaking out on so many since your first one last year. Silena brushes past you once you arrive, shoving your shoulder just enough that it twinges and you frown. You didn’t speak a word on the way here and the silent treatment is starting to drive a little crazy. 

It feels silly now, in a place so crowded, and you breathe deeply. Someone points you in the direction of the kitchen after multiple attempts at asking and you miss the light chaos of throwing up outside the Stolls’ dorm with your best friend. 

You grab a beer, using the table edge to pop the cap off, and it helps to ease the tightness in your chest at how unfamiliar this all is. You’re not sure you could even find the restroom, let alone a singular person.

Pushing back into the bulk of the party, you vow to leave if you don’t find him before you finish your beer. There’s a project you have to start looking into for next semester that could be a good use of time tonight. 

If anyone tried to convince you that most of campus was here, you’d be willing to believe them. A drink raised in Lee’s direction, a nod to Ethan from last years’ stats class, a half-hearted smile at Rachel, who raises an eyebrow at you like she knows something no one else does. 

And maybe she does, because you turn away from her to find Luke just feet away, gesturing animatedly to the guy next to him. There’s a beer in his hand and a hat on his head and his phone number so deeply etched in your mind since last night that you hardly think about it until you’re standing next to him again, drink placed on a table somewhere along the way.

“Hi,” he smiles and his scar shifts with it. He turns to the guy from before. “We’ll catch up later, man.”

“Have I ever told you that I hate that fucking hat?” 

“I sort of got that when you threw it across the room.” His lips wrap around the rim of his bottle and you think you can be normal about it, go back to the way things were, until he smirks just slightly and you know you can’t. 

“You’re such a sore loser, Castellan,” you mutter as you push yourself up to snatch it from his head. He doesn’t comment, lets your fingers brush through his curls until they’re a complete mess instead of compacted. He glances down at the cap in your hand and mutters, “And what is your genius plan for my hat?”

It’s a really fucking good question. Short of getting it off his head, you didn’t know what you were going to do. It’s one thing to throw it across an empty room in the dark, another thing entirely to abandon it to a frat party. So you choose the next best thing - placing it on your own head and daring him to question it. 

“I guess that can work,” Luke says and it sounds like a promise soaked in laughter. 

Neither of you find it as funny when he has to tip the visor upwards to kiss you.

[nilefreemans]

"hate me" + bucktommy pls mwah 😌💖

Buck thought he could do this, see Tommy again and not be angry. But his ex is sitting at the back of the 118 ambulance, getting stitches from Chimney and Buck feels like his blood is boiling.

He should walk away.

Buck should just let it go, let Tommy go away and continue on with his life, just as Tommy wanted.

"Tommy-" Buck growls out, stalking forward. He hears Chimney mumble something to Tommy who is looking at him warily, before he squeezes Tommy's shoulder and leaves them be.

"Buck-" "What was that?" Buck hisses out and Tommy winces, looking away from him and back at what's left of the fire that their stations had both been called to. Buck crosses the arms over his chest and stares Tommy down. Tommy could be stubborn, that wouldn't have changed in the four months that they've been broken up, but Buck was positive he could out stubborn his ex.

"I did what I had to do-" Tommy tries, but Buck isn't having it.

"You got hurt!" Buck exclaims, gesturing to the fresh bandage on Tommy's arm where a piece of beam had fallen on him, going through his turn outs and giving Tommy a nasty gash that needed stitches.

The beam that would have hit Buck if Tommy hadn't pushed him out of the way.

"It happens," Tommy defends himself, but his voice is subdued. Buck huffs, but unlike Tommy who is looking away from him again, Buck takes his fill of the other man. The first thing he notices beyond the obvious injuries and the soot from their fire is that Tommy looks tired. Exhausted actually. The furrow from between his brows looks pained, and the bags under his eyes are dark against his pale skin. He's sharper too, like he's lost some weight.

Buck deflates a little, his righteous anger from earlier dwindling down to the fear he felt when he saw Tommy get downed by the beam.

The man did save his life.

"I'll get checked out at the hospital and go home, sleep it off." Tommy says and he starts to get up and what little color on his face goes away as he wraps his arm around his ribs.

"Sit down," Buck says and Tommy doesn't even fight him.

Sighing, Buck steps forward and gingerly lifts Tommy's arm to inspect what he believes now to be some bruised ribs at the very least.

"You don't have to stay," Tommy says. "No one would blame you. I can go back with my station."

"If you wanted that you shouldn't have risked your life for mine," Buck says, voice snipping. Tommy looks away again and Buck sighs. "I'm sorry-" "Don't." Tommy says, voice steely. "Don't apologize Evan,"

"So it's Evan again?" Buck says and Tommy huffs.

They're at an impasse.

"Look just-" Buck starts at the same time that Tommy says,

"You don't have to care."

Buck blinks, stepping back, and looks at Tommy with wide eyes, hurt by what he just said.

"Of couse I care," Buck says. "You got hurt Tommy, even if it wasn't for me I would still care."

"I'm the one who walked away- you, you shouldn't care about me anymore." Tommy says and his tone is carefully controlled, sounding like it did the last time they talked four months ago.

Buck knows this is how Tommy sounds before he runs away.

"Well if I can't care for you, what should I do?" Buck asks, ducking his head to get a better look at Tommy's expression. Tommy catches it and looks up, and Buck sees the cracks in Tommy's mask.

"Hate me," Tommy says, his eyes shinning. "You should hate me."

"I'm not very good at doing things I'm should," Buck says and he steps into Tommy's space. And in an echo of almost a year ago, Buck gently places his thumb on Tommy's chin and tilts it up.

"I could never hate you Tommy," Buck says gently and when a tear falls he wipes it away.

"Not when I feel the opposite."

[perfectquote]

Detachment is not that you should own nothing, but that nothing should own you.

Ali ibn abi Talib

[stay-close]

When proven wrong, the wise man will correct himself and the ignorant will keep arguing.

Ali ibn Abi Talib

[nightlyquotes]

When proven wrong, the wise man will correct himself and the ignorant will keep arguing.

Ali ibn Abi Talib

[thehopefulquotes]

Detachment is not that you should own nothing, but that nothing should own you.

Ali ibn abi Talib

[gigglesandfreckles-hp]

Jily UNDERCOVER?!!! 😮👀

ok so i'm literally working on this one as we speak.

the super basic blurb is that dumbledore and voldy find out about the chosen one prophecy. dumbledore knows that the longbottoms are expecting and seem to fit the description to a tee—voldy knows it too. in order to protect the longbottoms and the potential 'secret weapon baby', dumbledore devises a bluff. and who better to pretend to also be pregnant with a baby that fits the description than his former head girl and head boy who seemed to get along marvellously in 7th year until they suddenly...didn't.

james and lily, complicated star-crossed exes, are forced to live together and fake a pregnancy in the name of Revolution! all the trope-y nonsense ensues.

here's a snippet of the scene i just wrote where they are announcing their “pregnancy” to sirius and he is absolutely not buying it for a second, which has made me so stoked for this story...

[lavenderdaisychain]

Calm before the storm

18+ readers beware

(Chat I’m gonna be honest I did not proofread this, my life has been insane so I cranked it out as soon as I could. Spoilers for episode 13 of you aren’t caught up on The Pitt)

Dr. Micheal “Robby” Robinavitchxf!Dr.reader

Tags: established relationship (married), age gap (bc ofc we love to sexualize old men here), violence, gore, death, gun violence, hurt/comfort, PTSD, ptsd related episodes, panic attacks, mentions of drug use

Wc:3.8k

~Normally you and Robby both take today off, but when he gets called in you decide to take Jake and Leah to Pitt Fest, only for it to take a turn for the worse~

“What are you doing?” You hummed into your husband's neck as he tried to crawl out from under you.

“Just gotta get up honey,”

“Bullshit it’s 5:30 and we agreed to stay in today. We’re taking the kids to Pitt fest remember?” You untangled your legs from his and sat up on his lap, wiping the sleep for your eyes.

“I have to work…I don’t want to but they’re down an attending and Gloria’s already up my ass I don’t need her to be up yours too if I don’t show.”

You frowned. Everyone knew what today was, especially Gloria.

“She’s a heartless bitch.” You pouted, crossing your arms defensively. Micheal couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, he kissed you, using the kiss as a distraction to get out of bed.

“Hey!” You shouted playfully, “no distraction kisses mister!” You got out of bed and threw on whatever tee shirt you could find before trailing behind Micheal to the bathroom. Your usual morning routine was quiet today, normally the two of you would make a game plan for the day. It was about this time you’d start calling him Robby, but not today. He needed to be Micheal Robinavitch for as long as possible before being ‘Dr. Robby’ for the rest of the day.

“Here’s some coffee, we’ll be by later to get the passes so you can see us off,” You smiled warmly, passing Micheal a to-go cup and his backpack.

“Wow, my wonderful wife already had my stuff ready for me! What would I do without you?” He questioned pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Well you’re an old man so you’d probably have a hard time on your own, that’s why I’m here,” you giggled as he rolled his eyes. With another kiss and a playful slap to your ass he was gone.

Robby’s headed your way, please keep an eye on him?

Already on it.

Thank god for Dana. You silently prayed that today would be an easy day. But who were you kidding, he was walking into The Pitt, and it didn’t have that name for no reason.

——

“I could’ve picked you up!” You kicked the door to your house shut as Jake walked in, waving off his uber.

“It’s no problem really! I needed the quiet drive to calm down.” You couldn’t help but smile at Jake’s apparent nervousness. He had friends who were girls but never an actual girlfriend. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how he looked just like Robby when the two of you started to date.

“You look like Robby,” you laughed. “scared shitless, but don’t be! Leah is gonna have a great time and I get to be cheesy and third wheel!”

“Honestly I’m glad it’s just one of you and not you and Robby. You guys are so gross together!” Jake pretended to gag at the idea of you and Robby being romantic. You were just glad you could come in and be stepmom without disruption, Jake was just hitting puberty when the two of you got married but he accepted you almost immediately. He really had become not only a friend but your son.

When are you and Jake coming by? It's been a morning, Robby’s had 3 coffees before 11am.

Technically 4…..but you wouldn’t tell Dana that.

Jake just pulled up, let me change and we’ll head your way.

You changed out of your pjs into some more comfortable outdoor clothes and packed up festival essentials before heading to the hospital. You and Jake walked into what seemed to be a normal day in the Pitt, minus the obvious influx of student doctors it seemed like another day in fucked up paradise.

“Hey Jay!” Dana smiled brightly and pulled Jake into a hug, Jake always made everyone’s day brighter when he came in. You took a moment to scan the floor, your husband was nowhere to be found. You looked back to Dana to see everyone quizzing him on Leah, and giving him condoms.

“Hey! Did y’all forget his favorite step mom is third wheeling? We’re not gonna need those!” Jake’s face quickly turned red as he turned on his heel and booked it to Langdon. “So?” You questioned, walking up to Dana once she was alone.

“Well we’ve had a kid OD, a woman’s foot fully degloved after she got pushed onto train tracks, two adult children having to let their father go after putting him on a vent against his wishes, rats, the Kraken is awake and those are only the highlights.”

“And it’s only lunch!” You breathed out surprised.

“Well Mrs. Robinavitch, how nice of you to join us.”

“Not today Gloria you only get one Robinavitch!” You spun around with a tight smile plastered on your face. “I’m taking Jake to Pitt fest. My husband and I were supposed to go together but it looks like yall go busy.”

“Doctor-“ Gloria had that stern look on her face you couldn’t stand, but you spotted Robby just behind her and found your way out.

“Gloria I would love to chat about why you’re mad at me and bullshit like that but my husband needs help with a patient!” You swiftly walked past Gloria, locking your arm in with Robby’s and walking down the hall.

“Hi Honey,” Robby kissed your cheek softly, you could feel the tension in his body relax as you wrapped your arm around his waist.

“How are you?”

He let out a ragged sigh. “As fine as I can be. Myrna just hit on me again, so at least some things stay the same around here.”

You smiled softly at him before pulling him into a tight hug, having to stand on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. He took a deep breath into your collarbone, inhaling the sweet perfume he loved.

“God I wish we were home curled up in bed.” He groaned.

“Your shift will be over before you know it.” You kissed him again.

“Gross!” Jake shrieked, interrupting your tender moment. Robby laughed, throwing his head back and kissed you again, harder. He gave your hips a tight squeeze before throwing his arm around Jake, leading him to the nurses station. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Even though Jake’s mom and Robby weren’t together, Jake was his son 100%.

“Mom wanted to know how you were doing,” Jake rubbed the back of his neck as you walked up to him in the middle of his conversation with Robby.

“Well that’s very sweet of her. Again, I really am sorry about missing Pitt Fest but you’ll have fun with the girls.” Robby smiled, putting 3 carded lanyards in Jake’s hand.

“You still free for Basketball Sunday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Robby pulled Jake into a tight hug. “Hey when am I gonna meet this girl? I’m kind of pissed your stepmom gets to meet her before I do.”

“Soon I promise! But hopefully not too soon, everyone’s been weirding me out giving me their advice….and condoms.”

“Wait.” Robby turned to fully face Jake “are you having sex?”

You ran up and kissed Robby’s cheek before grabbing Jake and leaving. “Bye we’ll send pics!”

—

You and Jake walked up to the security entrance for Pitt Fest, standing at the side of the entrance was a tall girl with long golden brown hair, she smiled when she saw Jake.

“Oh she’s cute!”

“Please don’t embarrass me.” Jake sighed, but smiled back at Leah, his cheeks warm.

“Hey Jake!” Leah hugged Jake tightly, she smiled at you shyly when she pulled away. “Hi Mrs. Robinavitch, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Call me Honey please, or Robin, everyone does.” You hugged her. “I’m glad to finally meet the person who’s been making Jake so happy!”

You decided to keep your distance and let the kids have their time as you walked around the festival, some of the artists were still setting up but there was plenty of food, art and shopping to enjoy. But your mind was other places. Specifically worrying about Robby. He looked worn out when you saw him. He had clearly been agitated and was covering it up, but you knew that eventually it would spill over.

The kids are having fun, Leah is a nice girl. I can’t wait for you to meet her! Miss you, love you, don’t forget to breathe.

You knew he wouldn’t see or reply to it immediately but it was there when he would need it.

Before you even realized it a few hours had past, you smiled listening to Leah and Jake rant and rave about their favorite artists, arguing over songs, albums and music theories. You had truly never seen him this happy around a girl and it made your heart swell.

Until the shots started.

You’d lived in the city, and been around guns enough growing up to know what gunfire sounded like.

“Jake, Leah, stay close.” You warned the giggling kids, trying to lead them away from the stage you were currently occupying.

“What’s going on?”

Before you could answer Jake chaos broke out. Masses of people screaming and crying, all headed your way. You grabbed Jake and Leah and ran with the crowd, trying to spot where the gunfire was coming from as people started to drop like flies.

You needed a place to hide. Or make it to the entrance as fast as possible. In the chaos a man knocked you down, separating you from the kids.

“Goddamnit!” You cursed, curling up in a ball to protect yourself from the herd of people running above. When you found your moment you pushed yourself up, scanning the lawn for Jake and Leah.

And then you saw them.

Jake was crouched over the top of Leah, the grass turning a shade of crimson underneath her.

“Jake!” You ran to them and collapsed next to him. “Are you hurt?” He shook his head, looking down at Leah. It didn’t look good.

“I-I - the bullets came out of nowhere” Jake choked out.

“Listen to me. Run to the entrance as fast as you can, don’t look back, don’t stop to help anyone,” you gripped Jake’s shoulders tightly to ground him to what you were saying. “Flag down any EMT you can find and tell them I’m coming with a female with a GSW to the chest. Can you do that?”

Jake nodded, you kissed his forehead and when the lawn was clear he bolted.

“Leah? Baby can you hear me?” You put a finger to her pulse, it was ragged, she was loosing a lot of blood. Jake had taken his jacket off and was using it to put pressure to the wound. You ripped your belt off and did the best you could to assemble a makeshift tourniquet. Leah mumbled something about how it hurt, her skin turning glossy. “It’s gonna hurt like hell but you’re gonna be okay.”

“W-where’s Jake?”

“Getting help, we’re going to meet him. Hold on tight.” You picked Leah up bridal style and bolted for the entrance. The screaming, crying and constant gunfire would’ve sent anyone into a frenzy, even you. But not today, today you had people who depended on you. Jake stood at the entrance with Logan, a paramedic you knew.

“Her name is Leah Fisher, one GSW to the chest. The bullet didn’t go all the way so there’s probable internal and external bleeding. She’s losing a lot of blood. I made a tourniquet with my belt but she needs blood now and blood when she gets to the hospital.” You turned from Logan to Jake. “Jake. Keep her awake. I love you.” You hugged him tightly.

“Where are you going?”

“To help. There’s people down that aren’t dead yet, we need to save as many people as we can.” And with that, you ran back into the chaos.

-The Pitt

The ER was chaos,different triage points were color coordinated in different parts of the ER to try and keep some form of control. The night shift had been called in early with the influx of bodies. Robby had tried to call you and Jake multiple times when he first heard about the shooting but neither of you had answered, your last text kept flashing in his mind.

The kids are having fun, Leah is a nice girl. Miss you, love you, don’t forget to breathe.

Don’t forget to breathe. The day was already wearing on him. He’d already lost too many people, but they were saving a lot of people too. He had to remember that. Robby would never admit to anyone that he almost broke when Jack Abbot walked in.

He stood in front of the ER staff, day and night shift and immediately went into action walking them through combat medicine. The entire ER would have to become one steady unit if they were going to make it through the night. Once Jack finished prepping everyone the bodies started rolling in.

Robby helped bounce from patient to patient. So far their survival rate was 1 in 3….wasn’t looking good. His armour was starting to crack, only Abbott, Langdon and Dana could see it. So they floated what they could.

Robby was about to throw Langdon out of the hospital from their previous conversation when Leah and Jake rolled in.

“Jake?!” Robby ran to Jake as one of the nurses assessed Leah. “Are you hurt?”

“Um. Ya my leg, but I think it went all the way through. Is Leah going to be okay? I put pressure on her chest the whole time, mom even made a tie with her belt.”

“Wait.” Robby looked up to see you weren’t with the kids. “Where is she? Your stepmom?”

“She went back.”

Robby cursed under his breath. Of course you were going to be selfless and go back in to help as soon as you knew your kids were in good hands. Robby passed Jake off to a nurse promising to do the best he could and went back to work on Leah.

It was bad. They all knew she wasn’t going to make it but Robby tried anyways. Intubate. Chest compressions. Push O-neg.

“Open another line for FFP and platelets!” Robby shouted.

“Are you sure?” Dana questioned. All Robby had to do was shoot her a look before she did exactly what he asked. Robby switched with the nurse to do chest compressions but every pulse check was the same. Nothing. But Robby refused to let her die.

He pushed as much blood as they could spare before Jack came up next to him.

“The bullet tore through her heart.”

“I know.”

“This isn’t part of our mass casualty plan brother. You might have to let her go.”

Robby could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He couldn’t lose another patient. Not this patient. He continued another round of compressions, stopping when the final pulse check was still no Carotid and no femoral.

“Do you want me to go with you to talk with Jake?” Abbot asked, placing a hand on Robby’s shoulder.

“No, no I’ll do it.”

The conversation with Jake did not go well, Leah’s death was the final crack in Robby’s armour and Jake’s understandably upset reaction to her death sent Robby into a full blown breakdown. He curled up in the corner of the press room and let out everything that had been building up from the moment he clocked in. The sobs tore through him violently, all he could do was curl into himself hoping they would stop. Everything leading to this moment, every bad memory, every patient he couldn’t save, every person he let down, over looked, it was all coming to a head in this moment. He’d been holding this panic attack in since he clocked in and it steamrolled into a full on breakdown.

He clenched his shaking hands together as he tried to breathe, people needed him. His patients, his students, his son. You were out there somewhere helping people in the middle of the storm, he had to control it, but he didn’t want to. Robby didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, minutes? hours? A knock on the door snapped him out of it.

“Robby…” Dana’s voice was gentle but it held a sense of urgency.

“She’s here. It’s bad.”

—

“Female, 30’s, multiple GSWs, one to her hip, one to her lower left abdomen. She was conscious on the ride over but we lost her transferring from the gurney to the bed” An EMT shouted over your head, Jack was the one to receive you, a look of fear washed over him.

“Hey, honey can you hear me?” He rubbed your chest with his knuckles. “I need you to wake up.” His tone was clinical, he had to set his emotions aside. “Get a crash cart! Charge it to 200!”

Mateo ran over with a crash cart, setting the pads up, it only took one shock to bring you back. Your eyes shot open as you tried to sit up immediately.

“Sarah?! Sarah!!”

“Who’s sarah?” Jack asked, fighting to lay you back down despite your injuries.

“Jack Rabbit!! Sh-she’s a little girl, I had her with me. I was getting her back to her mom and dad-“ your heart rate spiked, you were distraught. “Sarah!”

“She’s fine,” Logan, the paramedic who brought you in, ran over to your bed. “As soon as we pulled up to PTMC her parents were waiting. She’s just fine.”

“Oh thank god.” You sobbed. Robby ran to you as Jack laid you down.

“Pupils are reactive to light, but it looks like she might have a head injury,” one of the nurses shouted over your head, causing you to wince. She lightly pressed your face looking for facial fractures but thankfully you’d covered it well enough from the stampede.

“Her pulse is thready, could be adrenaline, could be something else.” Jack spoke low to Robby. He nodded.

“Hey sweetheart, let’s get you checked out.” They stripped you down to get a look at both wounds. Robby grimaced at the bruises you were covered in, you had cracked at least 2 or 3 ribs when you’d been stomped.

The shot to your abdomen looked clean through and through with minimal bleeding, but there was no exit wound to your hip.

“Let’s see if we can stop the bleeding to her abdomen then we’ll worry about the hip I need gauze!” Nurses worked to stop the bleeding on both sides, Robby took a stethoscope and placed it on your stomach to listen to your breathing, it was getting clearer.

“Her abdomen isn’t distended, there’s only slight tenderness around the wound but nothing to suggest a peritonitis or a peritoneal hemorrhage. Let’s stitch her up and push O Neg.”

You were beginning to fall in and out of consciousness, only catching bits and pieces of what everyone was saying. You knew Jack and Robby were there, but eventually you succumbed to the darkness.

—

You woke up to the sound of the organized chaos you were used to hearing in the Pitt, a heart monitor beeped steadily above you and you became aware of the oxygen hose in your nose. Your whole body hurt. You began to remember why you were laying in a hospital bed, there was a shooter at Pitt Fest.

“Jake??” you tried to move suddenly but your body screamed in retaliation. You looked around the room, your eyes falling on Robby, curled up in an arm chair next to you. Even while sleeping he looked tired, the bags around his eyes darker than usual. His stress lines were set deep. This was not how today was supposed to go. He was still in his bloodied scrubs, once blue were now a shade of muddied purple. Jake was nowhere to be seen, making your heart rate spike.

“Hey honey, he’s with Leah’s family.” Jack leaned against the door frame, arms crossed tightly.

“Oh. Oh poor baby.” You sighed. Truth be told you knew when you ran with Leah to the paramedic she wasn’t going to make it. But you had to try.

“You had us all worried sick you know, coming in battered like that.”

“I had to do something. I left the kids in the best possible hands…that little girl would’ve died if I hadn’t gone back.”

Jack ran his hand over his face and pushed off from the door frame, taking a seat on your bed.

“You’re abdomen is going to be sore for a while, but the shot was clean. The bullet in your hip fractured, we were able to stabilize the bone but you’re going to have to keep the pins in it and do physical therapy. You’ll be able to come back to work, when you’re ready.”

You nodded slowly. “How’s it going out there?”

“We’re a little calmer now, it’s been a few hours….” He wanted to say something, you could see it in his eyes. “Robby broke. Just before you came in. Dana said he was curled up in the peds room when she went to find him she didn’t even recognize him. He disappeared after we got you stable and…I had to drag him off of the roof.”

Your eyes widened, the only thing you could do was let out a horrified gasp. You knew when you woke up this morning he should’ve stayed, you should’ve been here with him. No. No, the people you helped today needed you.

“Thank you Jack Rabbit. For holding him together when I couldn’t.” He smiled at the use of your nickname. You looked over at your husband “Robby?” Your voice was low, gentle, but enough to stir him from his sleep. His eyes widened at the sight of you and he moved to your bed immediately.

“Hey..” he whispered, scared to touch you. Jack squeezed your hand and left to get back to work.

“Hi, I’m okay.” You were firm. It wasn’t up for debate. You were here, you were alive. Robby’s eyes brimmed with tears, you held his face as wipes them as they fell. “Hey, hey I’m okay Robby I mean it.”

Robby held you as tightly as he could without bringing you any pain, your perfume was long gone but if he tried hard enough he could still smell it. You could feel tears land on your collarbone but you didn’t utter a word, instead you rubbed small circles into his back, humming softly to comfort him. You held him for a while until there was a soft knock at your door, your eyes shot up and met with Jake’s, red rimmed and glossy. You patted the other side of the bed and he practically ran to you, throwing his arms around you and Robby.

You comforted your boys as they cried together, silent tears falling from your eyes. The night was far from over, but for now you were alive, and together.

And that was all that mattered.

an: oh em gee. I have been The Pitt obsessed and Noah Wyle really blew me away last week I can’t wait for Thursday. This idea has been bouncing around in my head for a week and I finally got time to sit down and write!! Lmk if yall like this and I’ll see what other ideas I can crank out! Xoxo

@ebodebo @sceletaflores @yuenity

[thoughtkick]

When proven wrong, the wise man will correct himself and the ignorant will keep arguing.

Ali ibn Abi Talib

[surqrised]

Detachment is not that you should own nothing, but that nothing should own you.

Ali ibn abi Talib

[quotefeeling]

Detachment is not that you should own nothing, but that nothing should own you.

Ali ibn abi Talib

[love-that-we-were-in]

pretty as a vine (sweet as a grape)

pairing: luke castellan x reader summary: luke castellan might be everyone's favorite councilor over the summer. he might be a little too sweet for you in the fall. word count: 1.7k warnings: none

authors note: thank you to @wlntrsldler for letting me steal this concept from you even if making luke a real tried and true loser was a struggle. hope y'all enjoy!!

It was rare to see Camp Half-Blood’s golden boy without his signature smile on his face; always ready to help, always ready to please. 

You’d only had a handful of conversations with Luke Castellan, passing words in the height of hectic summer heat. Most of them in the middle of the night, when all the campers should be tucked away in the cabins, but you’d take the brief moments of quiet to wander the grounds with a lit cigarette hanging off your lips. 

Luke would approach you every time, always the same way, a pink flush on his cheeks and a quiet, timid voice telling you that he had to enforce the rules, that he had to send you back to your cabin because it was past curfew.

You’d roll your eyes, lick your lips, wave the smoke obscuring your view of him away playfully and promise to head back after this one. He’d nod and walk away, and you’d pretend not to notice his silhouette hidden behind one of the trees, not quite obscured enough by the lack of lighting to go wholly unnoticed, waiting for you to make your way back to where you’re supposed to be. 

He was sweet, too sweet, sometimes. Making sure you were safe, that nothing bad would happen to you even after taking his supposed leave. It was cute, really, how he acted around you underneath the starlight, always so nervous and flustered, like he’d never seen a woman before. You supposed, confined to the parameters of camp for so many years, he really hadn’t seen many of them.

It’s something you carry with you this year, watching as summer fades into fall, how camp suddenly empties. You’re not sure what to make of it, how still everything seems now, how the usual noise dampens into almost nothing and you itch for the hurriedness of July to return. 

You’re lucky, really, to have spent so long exploring the world beyond camp, seeing what growing up had to offer as if it were normal. A lot of the kids you see now, they haven’t experienced a half of what you have, trading high school for battling dragons at someone else’s request, and it shows each year like clockwork. 

If you’re honest, hidden behind the treeline near the lake, camp makes you uneasy like this. Less busy, less extreme - walking the thin line between a place to train and a place to live - and it has you more on edge than before. It could be that you’ve grown accustomed to the bustle of the Boston streets. It might just be that Luke has been hiding just beyond view since you lit your cigarette.

“I know, I know,” you say when he finally approaches. He stumbles, familiar flush blotching the skin of his neck, climbing the tips of his ears. “Just let me finish this one.” 

He nods and you wait for him to walk away, follow his usual path back into the forest. He doesn’t, standing on the damp grass nearby without saying a word, and you look at him again. 

You’re used to seeing Luke Castellan in different forms - it’s part of how he lives. Nervous and unsure and so confident with a sword that it’s a little insane that he’s the same person during training as is standing in front of you now. 

He’s got this little dip to his shoulders, fingers tapping against his own thigh as you stare at him. His curls are slightly longer than when summer started, curling around his ears and resting just above his brows. He’s got a sweatshirt on, dark green and oversized, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip the longer you take to look away. 

“You can head back,” you say eventually, flicking ash to the ground at your feet. “I promise to be good and go straight to bed.” 

It’s not meant to be anything, merely an assurance. But there’s this way Luke reacts to it, how his fingers stop tapping in favor of clenching his first, how he breathes deeper for a few breaths, how he swallows around nothing, that ignites something under your skin. Makes you want to push that little bit further. 

“You really need to stop coming out after curfew,” he mumbles in the end, tucking his hands into the front pocket of his sweater. It’s soft and a little warm and you wonder if it’s the humidity or Luke himself that’s responsible. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“You’re sweet, Castellan,” you crush the butt of your cigarette out, brushing past him to start the trek back to your cabin. “It’s kind of adorable.” 

You hear him suck in a breath. You don’t hear his footsteps directly behind you as you walk through the foliage. You kind of wish you’d turned around to see the blush rise on his cheeks. 

Maybe you will next time.

*

Next time doesn’t come for weeks. It gives you space to observe Luke now, when he’s being pulled in fewer directions, when there’s lower expectations. You learn that neither of those things exist where Luke is concerned; that he has this inability to not be helpful, to not put himself forward when no one else will. He somehow takes up more responsibilities as fall gets underway, smiling wide when you know you’d be stretched thin. 

It’s admirable, to a point, and you want to know how he does it.

A few years ago, you convinced yourself Luke was only on when the sun shone brightest. Watching him demonstrate a throw to a young Athena kid, you think he might be the sun itself. 

“Nice arm,” is what you greet him with when the little girl runs off, ball in hand. He pauses his hands where they rest on the fabric of his pants, still slightly bent at the knees from helping and lips parted as he glances up at you. “She seemed happy.” 

“She just needed some help with the technique.”

He shrugs and stands to actually face you. 

Mid-afternoon at camp has never really sat well with you. Always slower, sun burning and campers left to fill their own time before dinner. You’ve never really known what to do with it; Luke squints at the grounds before you as if he’s searching for who needs him next.

“Do you ever take a break?” Is what you say when the silence drags on for too long. 

Luke blinks, lips parting. A group of Hephaestus kids laugh from down by the lake. You wait. 

“I go to bed at midnight.”

“And what time do you wake up?” You kick at the grass below your feet, taking in how Luke stumbles for an answer, brown eyes darting each way as if it’ll fall from the sky. 

“The apollo kids really love watching the sunrise,” he chokes out in the end, digging his hands into his pockets. You wonder if he thinks it makes his nerves less obvious. “It’s a really nice sunrise.” 

“Come watch it with me tomorrow.”

You say it partly for the reaction itself. That same quick breath Luke takes each time you say something that shocks him, the red tint to his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the harsh movement of his adams’ apple. You kind of also really want to see how Luke Castellan changes between day and night - if it’s a version of him you just haven’t read yet. 

You don’t mention that you’ll have to force yourself out of bed, unused to early rising. 

He nods, three quick nods like he thinks you’ll take it back if he’s not enthusiastic enough. 

You smile then. “I’ll see you later, Luke.”

*

He meets you where he usually does, further north than anyone tends to go at any hour, let alone this early. There’s less hesitation to his steps than a few nights ago, your invitation dangling between you both something like a promise. 

“I’m not gonna bite,” you say when he stops just short of the rock you’ve claimed. You glance over at where he’s just feet away, bright orange camp tee peeking out from his grey hoodie. “It’s too early for that.”

“Oh.” 

There’s some shuffling before Luke is perching himself on the stone next to you. He’s close enough to touch from here, the makeshift seat just barely big enough for two people to share, and you take in how he tucks his hands into his pockets, makes himself take up as little room as possible. 

Outside of his swordsmanship, you’ve never seen Luke take up much space at all.

“This is nice,” he says eventually, the sun starting to peer over the lake. 

There’s something almost beautiful about what the sunrise does for him, you realise. Neither of you have moved, Luke’s gaze still locked on the horizon, but you’ve transferred your attention to him. You’ve seen the lake enough times. You’ve never seen Luke Castellan’s chest rising and falling with each steady breath, or the way his eyes turn a little gold when the sun hits them just right. How he relaxes in the autumn chill.

“You’re really pretty, Luke.”

It slips past your lips before it fully forms in your mind. His head snaps to the side, cheeks flushing and lips parted. You hadn’t meant to say it, too caught up in the slow start to the morning, but it’s out there and you don’t want to take it back.

“Such a pretty boy,” you mutter, shaking your head. 

“I-“ Luke starts, before clearing his throat. You see his hands twitch in his pockets. “What?” 

You twist on the rock underneath you, lifting your legs so they’re crossed, knees brushing the edge of Luke’s thigh. His eyes drop at the movement.

This should feel weird at camp. You’d fallen into the habit of flirting back in Boston, something to fill the gaps and score you a cigarette when you really needed help to get them. Never like this though - like the moment was delicate and its shattering was solely in your hands. 

The ability to shatter Luke Castellan, Camp Half-Blood’s golden boy, rests on your shoulders in an early sunrise.

When his breath hitches as you push yourself closer, you think you’d like to watch him shatter in the sunlight. 

Pretty doesn’t even come close when it happens.