Question on the feral (I think?) peafowl that live in my neighborhood. I don’t have great pictures of all - but why do some hens have bottle green heads and some have sapphire blue heads? They all hang out together and love to visit our front water dish with meal worms service. The two on the top are females, both have raised offspring. The lower one with a baby now is all brown, which is also new to me.
The two circled in red are males, the two circled in yellow are hens. The hens will still have green on the neck, including the one you think is all brown (she only looks all brown in this photo because you can't see her neck). Yearling males will have green on the neck as well, which is why you might have mistaken the top red one for a hen, he may have been hanging around his younger siblings while mom raised them.
Do you have photos of him actually raising chicks on his own whole looking like a male? Are you 100% certain it's the same bird? How are you tracking ID?
I ask because with feral flocks, group composition can change. You might see the same hen traveling with a group of 2-3 others once and 2-3 others another time but they might not be the exact same birds both times. Without ID bands or other hard tracking methods, it's entirely possible you saw different birds and thought they were the same birds because it was the same ratio of hens and cocks.
It's ALSO possible that you have either an intersex bird or a hen with a (now) defunct ovary that will be switching to male plumage over a 3ish year span. It doesn't happen often but it does happen.
What doesn't really happen, at least as far as I've seen, is males raising chicks. They don't sit on nests, they don't show chicks what to eat, they don't cover them at night. They tolerate them, but they are not paternal like some bird species. As uncommon as it is to see intersex and transitioning hens, it's a million times less likely that a male would be randomly raising chicks on his own. So, if you have documentation of something that's never been documented in wild or captive peafowl before, I would be interested to see the evidence.
DH might have earlier pictures. I’m calling them the same bird because that’s the one that will actually come close enough to take treats from my hand. They like mealworms and kale in particular. The peas are all feral-ish and roam the neighborhood. The 6 or so mostly hang out with us because the front is reasonably safe for them. There’s other little colonies around, but they’re more spooky vs knocking on the door for meal service. Spoiled birds. But hey, they catch any mice and rats outside, they can hang out.
Question on the feral (I think?) peafowl that live in my neighborhood. I don’t have great pictures of all - but why do some hens have bottle green heads and some have sapphire blue heads? They all hang out together and love to visit our front water dish with meal worms service. The two on the top are females, both have raised offspring. The lower one with a baby now is all brown, which is also new to me.
The two circled in red are males, the two circled in yellow are hens. The hens will still have green on the neck, including the one you think is all brown (she only looks all brown in this photo because you can't see her neck). Yearling males will have green on the neck as well, which is why you might have mistaken the top red one for a hen, he may have been hanging around his younger siblings while mom raised them.
US based but it’s similar reasons in other countries. and of course many companies have international locations. idk if that’s why it’s happening with sour patch kids but this is a thing
My nephew is very allergic to eggs, peanuts, tree nuts, and sesame. Last year my sister discovered all hot dogs and hamburger buns now contain sesame. Not "may contain", but listed in the ingredients. This year basically every brand of sliced bread also now contains sesame, making it very difficult to find bread items he can eat.
They're just adding it to their products, so they can just list it as an ingredient and not bother with worrying about cross contamination. And they aren't even bothering with telling anyone. Capitalism is going to kill us all.
"Which brings us back to Kellogg’s. Back in 2016, the company found a way around the added burden and expense of complying with the FSMA: they simply began adding trace amounts of peanut flour to their cracker products. Doing so allowed them to list peanuts as an ingredient of the product, freeing them from having to prevent cross-contact.
At the time, Kellogg’s notified Food Allergy Research and Education (FARE) about the impending change and left it to them to warn the allergic community. In this case, Pearson’s didn’t even bother as near as we can tell."
I wonder if that’s part of the reason behind my seeing an upswing in products adding corn starch or corn flour to things that didn’t have those before? <- rhetorical question, because I’m certain that’s what’s going on.
Because we are west coasters and don’t see Buffalo play enough - why on earth is Boston targeting Benson?
Honestly my guess would be that fight a few games ago when Benson was reportedly “hauled” off to the penalty box like a yappy little dog. He’s probably annoying to play against and runs his mouth.
Had to stop by Wegmans today (NOT an official sponsor of the team) and the front is all covered in blue and gold cakes and donuts and cookies etc, the Sabres merch area is POPPING and everyone is in Sabres gear. I have seen more Sabres gear this week than in the last decade, it’s crazy.
April 7, 2026 - "All you had to do was pay us enough to live, all you had to do was pay us enough to fucking live"
A worker in Ontario, California, USA, set his company’s warehouse on fire and has a message for the CEO:
“There goes your inventory. You know we may not get paid enough to fucking live, but these bitches (lighters) dirt cheap. All you had to do was pay us enough to fucking live.”[article]/[video]
Please do not support him. The company pays over CA minimum wage for a job that doesn’t require any degree or GED. He put others out of a good paying job. He strained fire fighting resources as we approach a dry season, thankfully the winds weren’t bad or it could have easily gotten out of hand.
As one who had to evacuate from the January 2025 fires - arson should never be supported.
My goalie loving child has now realized our seats are by Sabres where the backup goalie sits. This might be even better than letting her meet Swerve and Orange at AEW.
Man your kid has had more meaningful experiences in her young life than I’ve had as an adult 😭
I fully admit we spoil the kids with events. Would they enjoy seeing something - if we can make it work, we go. Before long, they’ll be grown and out as independent adults. Let them have fun while we can.
Granted, with AEW, I’m going is that a good one to cheer for or not. But those are her favorites and we aren’t discussing it further.
Summary: One glitchy tablet, one HR email, and suddenly you’re married to your attending, Jack Abbot. HR thinks it was intentional and has already started merging your records. Claim it was a mistake, and your residency could be delayed. With only three months left until you're an attending, Jack agrees to play along. Pretending to be married might save your career—but can your heart survive the side effects?
tags: accidental marriage, slow burn romance, HR involvement, nosy coworkers, reader is a PGY-4 resident, jack is not a widow in this fic, possible medical/legal inaccuracies, mutual pining, fluff, drinking, sexual tension
word count: 7.5k
a/n: a slight trim from 8k but still a long chapter for you guys <33 i hope you enjoy it! and as always, since this is an ongoing process, your ideas and thoughts for future scenes are more than welcome! big kisses to everyone who has sent in ideas already<33
Diagnosis: Married | Masterlist
The Pitt | Masterlist
Main | Masterlist
Previous part | Next part
It's been three days since Olivia left. Three days since you moved into the guest room.
Three days since Jack has slept more than an hour at a time.
He'd expected that he'd miss you, but he hadn't expected his body to react so viscerally to your lack of presence. Hadn’t expected it to feel like something essential had been pulled out of him—like his body didn’t know how to settle without you.
It's familiar in a way he hates. The restless energy buzzing under his skin, the sharp edge of awareness, the way his mind keeps searching for something to do—something urgent, something loud enough to drown everything else out.
He'd caught himself earlier, halfway to the drawer where he'd hidden the police scanner, until his mind caught up to his body. He wanted to reach in, grab it, but he didn't. Because if he did, he’d go. And as long as you were here—even in another room—he wouldn’t.
He'll reach for it when you're gone. Not a second before.
You've left for the guest room half an hour ago—your room now—after getting ready for bed. He'd convinced you to keep your things in his bathroom, arguing that it made more sense than to move them—a weak excuse that somehow worked.
It meant that he could sit against the headboard, listen to you potter around in there and get a sweet smile from you before you eventually leave.
After that, he could creep under the covers, drag your pillow into his arms, and bury his nose deep into the fabric where your scent still lingers. Pretend for a moment that you haven't left—that you're still in the bathroom.
But this time the familiar scent is not there. He'd turned the pillow around, rather desperately, hoping—praying—to find it.
He didn't.
You'd changed the sheets. Washed off the last bit of evidence he had that you'd been there. He lay back down with a thud, pillow still hugged tightly to his chest, and resigned himself to a night of no sleep.
He was wrong. It isn't a night of no sleep—it's much worse. Because when his eyes close, he's right back there.
Dry, suffocating heat sticks to his skin. Lungs burning with each breath. Sand grinds between his teeth. There's a sharp, metallic stink of fuel and blood.
Someone's bleeding.
He's pressing down, his hands slick, trying to keep it in—begging stay with me, stay with me—but it won't stop.
It never stops. It's one after the other. Faces blur. Voices overlap. Orders shouted over choking breaths.
He's too slow. He's always too slow.
A broken sound tears out of him. His hands twist into the sheets, knuckles straining white, fabric biting into his palms. He doesn't feel it until something pulls him up, drags him out—
His eyes snap open to another nightmare—one that hurts in an entirely different way.
You're sitting beside him, watching him with worried but sympathetic eyes. Close but not touching him like he wishes you would—he wants nothing more than to feel your warmth, even if it's just a mind's trick. His chest is still heaving, lungs refusing to settle, heart slamming hard enough it hurts. Adrenaline courses through him. He doesn't move—couldn't if he wanted to—so he just stares at you, waiting for the inevitable moment when you fade away again.
"You're okay," you whisper, shifting closer on the bed.
He doesn't believe it. Not when he can still feel it—the heat, the blood, the weight of it all sitting heavy in his chest like it never left.
"You're okay," you murmur again, glancing from his face down to his hands still clutching the covers. You reach out, but stop halfway, hesitating. "Can I touch you?"
"Please," he manages, his voice cracking. He can barely breathe.
You move slowly, carefully easing the fabric out of his grip and replacing it with your hand. Your other hand comes up to his face, swiping at the tears that he hadn't even realised had fallen.
"Breathe with me," you say. You bring your intertwined hands up to your chest, resting them gently on your sternum, so he can feel the slow and steady rise of it.
He tries matching you, but it feels impossible.
You keep murmuring assurances, gentle words that he doesn't believe, but he keeps trying. His breaths come uneven at first, catching, stuttering—but you keep at it.
He knows it’s a panic attack. Rationally, he does. But his body takes its own time to realise it. Eventually, the edges dull. The noise fades. His lungs stop fighting him.
And once he's finally able to take a full, deep breath, he realises, it isn't a dream. Your hand is warm—real.
"Hey," you whisper, giving him a small smile.
"Hi," he says back.
You don't say more. You don’t ask anything. You don’t push. You just look at him, something soft in your expression, and then—
you pull your hand away.
The loss is immediate. He swallows, disappointment filling his aching chest. Of course. He should've known you wouldn’t stay. You just came to make sure he was okay. That’s what good people do. People like you.
He should’ve known better. Should’ve known not to expect more. Men like him don’t get to have things like this. Not with everything he carries. Not with everything he’s failed to carry. Not with—
The mattress dips beside him. You don’t say anything as you slip under the covers beside him. Your face tucks into the space between his shoulder and chest, your arm draping over his stomach.
He doesn’t move at first, then his arm comes up. Careful. Hesitant. It wraps around your shoulder, pressing you closer into him. His nose dips into your hair, and he takes another deep breath. Finally breathing you in. His eyes close again, his grip tightening just slightly around you, afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens it.
And for the first time in three nights, he sleeps properly.
Jack wakes slowly. His shoulders loosened, breathing calm, and his head not aching for once. He breathes in quietly, searching for your soft breath in the room. It's quiet.
Too quiet.
Heart slowly sinking, he keeps his eyes closed as he reaches across the mattress, searching for your body. Not wanting to see just yet. Not wanting to confirm it.
His fingers only brush against cold sheets.
Jack sighs, cold realisation hitting him. He keeps his eyes closed for another second before he reluctantly opens them to face the truth.
You've left. Of course you have.
And judging by the coldness, it must have been sooner rather than later. Probably right after he fell asleep.
With another harsh exhale, he pushes himself up to sit at the edge of the bed. Building up the nerve to go act like it doesn't mean anything, that his heart isn't fracturing, trying to keep up this pretence.
Then the door creaks open, your foot nudging it as your elbow releases the handle. In your hands, you hold a tray with plates and mugs clinking as you step inside.
"Nooo," you pout when you see he's awake. "I was supposed to wake you up with breakfast in bed." You lift the tray, staring at it dejectedly. "I even made you coffee," you add.
Jack blinks at you, trying to make sense of the situation. Had you slept there the whole night, after all?
"Lay back down," you demand, cutting through his thought process.
"Really?" His voice is hoarse from surprise and sleep, but the corner of his mouth twitches. Amusement flickers through the haze of disappointment.
"Yes!"
And because he can't resist you, he does as he's told, his eyes closing again. He hears the tray set down next to him, his book hitting the floor—he bites back a comment.
"Okay, you can wake up now," you say.
Jack doesn't move.
"Ja-ack," you exaggerate, poking his arm. He doesn't budge. "Come on," you push at his arm, your voice growing closer as your face nears his.
"I'm sleeping," he murmurs, his mouth curling despite his attempt to control his grin.
"Funny," you deadpan. " Come on, wake up. Wake up. Wake up." You poke, push and prod with each word. "Wake u—" he cuts you off this time, his hands wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you into the bed. In a smooth roll, he pins you lightly beneath him, leaning on one arm to avoid crushing you, the other draped across your frame to hold you in place.
Your mouth stays open, but no words leave this time.
"I thought you were taught bedside manners in med school," he says. "Looks like I was expecting too much."
He can see your eyes widening, how your breathing turns shaky. He has to stop himself from leaning down and pressing his mouth to yours. He drags in a breath and forces himself to keep still.
He doesn't have the chance to act, even if he wanted to, because your head turns, soft lips brushing his ear seconds later.
"What? Something more like—" your voice turns breathy, sweet, and downright sultry. "Good morning, Jack. Your sweet, sweet wife made you breakfast."
He knows you're teasing him, but that is actually what he wants. What he wishes for every day.
But he can't show you that, so he rolls back, shrugging. "Something like that, yeah."
You grin, pushing yourself up to lean against the headboard. "I'll remember that. Now," you gesture to the tray, "eat before it gets cold."
"Yes, ma'am." Jack reaches over, giving you one of the mugs and taking the other himself. He takes a small sip of the dark liquid.
You've been watching him carefully, your brows knitting as he swallows. "It's not good, is it?"
He tries his best to hide the instinctive grimace that comes from drinking watery coffee, murmuring, "No, it's… It's good."
The lie flops immediately. Especially when you take a sip yourself. "It's horrible." You pout again, something Jack really wishes you would stop doing. It keeps drawing his attention to your lips.
"It's the effort that counts," he says.
"I don't want your pity," you say.
"Hey—the offer to teach you still stands."
"Hmm, nah," you say, shaking your head, a slight smile on your lips. "I'll just let that be your thing."
Jack tilts his head, thinking. "Did you make it bad on purpose?"
"What?" He can see you considering how to answer, knowing that he'd placed a trap—that either answer is bad.
You settle on, "Shut up and eat," instead.
Jack grins, watching you over the rim of his mug.
You'd seen the worst of him, and still you'd come back. He wants to believe that means something.
The shift is progressing much better than the last few ones, despite the cases being nearly the same. The difference is in you—yawning less, not fighting so hard to stay awake.
Just one night of sleeping with Jack again apparently makes up for days of fractured sleep. The bed in the guest room isn't as nice—it's what you tried to convince yourself at first—but deep inside, you know it's really about not sleeping with Jack. It’s unsettling how quickly your body has gotten used to it—how much worse everything feels without it.
Tonight you're still tired, but significantly less so.
"Here." A cup lands on the desk next to you as Lily leans against the counter. "I finally give in—come to the 'dark side' or whatever you call it—" she grins, "and then you're too tired to even notice."
"No, ugh—I'm the worst," you groan. "I'm so happy you're here. You're one of the few nurses I've managed to convince."
"Don’t you mean the only one?" Lily tilts her head, red ponytail slipping over her shoulder as her eyes narrow playfully. There’s a grin tugging at her lips, the kind that says she already knows the answer.
"Give it time. My charm is a slow burn."
"Mm-hmm. Or a complete myth," she says, nudging your shoulder lightly.
Lily’s been here as long as you have—long enough that you can’t quite remember any shifts without her. She’s the kind of person who somehow looks put together even after twelve-hour shifts, her scrubs never wrinkled, her smile never fully fading. When everything feels dark, she’s the one who brightens it.
And somehow—miraculously—she’s also figured out how to make the break room coffee taste like something other than regret.
"Seriously though," she adds, softer now, studying your face. "You look exhausted. Like… more than usual exhausted."
"I’ve just slept like shit the last few days," you admit, shrugging one shoulder.
"Uh-huh," someone mutters in passing. You don’t even have to look to know it’s Parker, but you do anyway. She’s halfway past the nurses’ station, tablet in hand, already moving like she’s got somewhere better to be.
"What’s that supposed to mean?" you call after her, because you absolutely cannot let it go—even though experience tells you that’s a mistake.
Parker stops, glancing at you, unimpressed. "You've slept 'shitty'," she repeats flatly.
"Yes?"
She hums, glancing between you and Lily, something calculating flickering behind her eyes. "That’s just funny."
You sigh, regretting this conversation even more. "Why?"
"So has Abbot."
"So what?"
Parker’s mouth curves, just barely. "It’s just funny that two newlyweds both show up to work tired." There’s just enough pause after it for the implication to settle.
"Oh my—" Lily’s eyes go wide, and she physically leans closer to you, her voice dropping into a whisper that is not quiet at all. "Are you trying?"
"What? No!" you choke, nearly spilling your coffee as you whip toward Parker. "Stop making up rumours!"
But Parker’s already turned back to Lily, completely ignoring your protest. "I’ve got twenty on it happening this year," she says, like she’s placing a perfectly reasonable bet. "You in?"
"Oh, I’m absolutely in," Lily replies instantly, all delight and zero hesitation. "Thirty on it happening in three months—and them pretending it didn’t until it’s too obvious to hide."
"Guys," you groan, dragging both hands down your face this time. "Guys, please—"
They’re already walking away, laughing like this is the best thing that’s happened all shift.
You stare after them, equal parts horrified and exhausted. "…I hate both of you," you mutter, even though they’re long gone.
But you know the night shift's noticed. The way you lean in more, flirt a little easier—just trying to take Olivia’s advice, even if you’re doing it far more subtly than she'd like you to.
Still, you didn’t think that, combined with a few bad nights of sleep, would be enough to start a bet.
At around four in the morning, there's a lull in patients, the waiting room empty for once. Unlike others, who are taking the time to catch some Z's, you’re using it to catch up on your charts.
You’re mid-sentence when a body drops heavily into the chair beside you. "Ugh."
"Hmm?" You barely glance over, fingers still moving across the keyboard, though slower now.
"I’m gonna have to file a harassment claim by the end of the night if this keeps going," Shen says, dragging a hand down his face.
That gets your attention. "A patient?"
"No." He shakes his head immediately, expression souring. "Worse."
You already have a feeling. Your eyes flick instinctively down the hall—and just in time to see Smith slip through the doors of one of the rooms. "Don't tell me it's—"
He grimaces, nodding. "Uh-huh."
You lean back with a quiet exhale, rubbing your temple. "Damn. I told her to drop that."
"Who?" a new voice cuts in. Jack's shadow falls across the counter a second before he leans over it, his eyes moving between you and Shen.
"Smith," Shen mutters. "She hasn’t crossed a line yet, but she’s right on the edge."
Jack’s expression tightens slightly, his easy demeanour sharpening into something more focused. "Has she done it to anyone else?"
"Not that I know of," Shen says, shaking his head. "Just me."
Jack nods once, adding almost like an afterthought, "So you and me."
Your spine straightens instantly. Shen’s head snaps toward Jack, eyes wide, then flicks to you like he’s suddenly very aware he’s in the blast radius of something.
You turn fully in your chair, staring up at Jack. "She hit on you?"
Jack blinks, like he hadn’t quite anticipated the reaction. "Yes."
"When?"
"When you were—" he gestures vaguely toward your midsection, searching for the least awkward phrasing, "…I turned her down."
Your brows knit tighter. "Why didn’t you tell me?" It comes out sharper than you mean it to.
"Uh oh," Shen mutters under his breath, already pushing himself upright. "I have a patient in South 19—I gotta go."
Neither of you stops him. He disappears fast.
Jack exhales quietly and moves around the counter, stepping into your space instead of staying on the other side. He leans back against the edge beside you, closer now, his voice softer.
"Hey," he says. "I’m sorry. I didn’t really think about it at the time. I was more worried about you that day, and then it just… slipped my mind."
You worry your bottom lip, gaze dropping briefly to the desk as you turn that over.
"Still," he adds quickly, watching your face, "I should’ve told you. I’m sorry." He pauses, then asks, "Are you mad?"
You look up at him then—taking in the tension in his shoulders, the way he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it but clearly cares about the answer.
After a second, you shake your head. "No. Not at you."
Some of the tightness leaves him immediately, subtle but still noticeable.
"I’m mad at her," you continue, turning back toward your screen, though you’re not really reading it anymore.
Jack shifts beside you, thinking. "I’m going to write her up."
You glance at him again, surprised. "You are?"
"That’s two attendings now," he says evenly. "And there’s also the shit she pulled with you." His mouth presses into a thin line. "Hopefully it’s a reality check."
"And if it’s not?" you ask.
A hint of something dry creeps back into his expression. "Then I’ll have her moved back to days."
You raise a brow.
"Make her Robby’s problem," he finishes.
A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it, cutting through the lingering irritation. "Wow. Harsh."
"He’ll survive," Jack says lightly, completely unapologetic.
You study him for a moment, something softer settling in your chest now. "…Thanks," you say.
He shrugs, like it’s nothing, pushing off the counter slightly. "It’s my job as your attending to take care of you."
He says it lightly. It doesn’t feel light. Doesn't quite match the way he’s looking at you.
"Hey," you say, catching Parker just as she’s finishing up, the early signs of shift change rippling through the department. "Wanna go out soon?"
Her head snaps up so fast it’s almost comical. "Uh, yes?" she says immediately, eyebrows shooting up. "I’ve been waiting for you to ask."
A small, tired smile tugs at your mouth. "Good."
You mean it more than she realises. You need it—something loud, something distracting, something that isn’t this constant low simmer in your chest. Every time you catch a glimpse of Smith moving through the department, laughing too easily, standing a little too close to people, it tightens again.
It’s not about Jack. Not really. You trust him. It’s the audacity of it that gets under your skin. The fact that she knew. That she looked at him, at the ring, at you—and still decided to try anyway. Fake marriage or not, it irks you.
"Can I come too?" Lily calls as she passes behind you, halfway to the supply room, but clearly listening in.
"Of course," you say easily.
"Yay!" she grins, then, without missing a beat, she turns slightly. "Hey… you coming?" You follow her line of sight—and your stomach sinks.
Smith.
She’s just stepped up to the board, pausing mid-motion as she blinks at Lily, clearly caught off guard. "Uh… me?" she asks, pointing lightly to herself.
"Yeah!" Lily grins, completely oblivious to the undercurrent running through the rest of you. "Come hang out with us."
There’s a split second where Smith hesitates. "Uh… sure," she says finally.
"Great," you reply, the word coming out smoother than it feels. You glance at Parker, and the look you share says enough.
Great. Just great.
"Uh—let’s invite day shift too," you add quickly, already stepping back, reaching for a pen you don’t need. "Make it a whole thing."
Bigger group. More noise. Less chance of being forced to interact.
"Yeah, yeah, good idea," Parker murmurs, catching on instantly.
As you start to move away, Parker falls into step beside you just long enough to mutter under her breath, "I’ll tell Lily what’s going on."
You let out a quiet breath, tension easing just slightly. "Thanks," you murmur back.
"Hi!" Lily beams the second she steps through the door, her voice already carrying that bright, slightly-too-loud energy of someone ready for a night out.
Warm light spills from the living room into the hallway, soft music humming in the background. The place already feels lived-in for the night: shoes kicked off near the entry, jackets draped over chairs, laughter drifting in from deeper inside.
"Come in, come in," you say, stepping back to let her through, one hand gesturing her inside while the other tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Jack’s just leaving."
Right on cue, he appears from the hallway, shrugging into his jacket, keys already in hand. He looks relaxed in a way he rarely does at work—sleeves rolled, hair slightly mussed. He nods at her.
"Hey," Lily says, her eyes flicking between the two of you with immediate interest.
"Call me if there’s anything," Jack says to you, like he hasn’t already said it twice. He'd offered the house for you guys to get ready together, something the other girls had squealed at—more than just a little excited to see "your" place. It's just a few of you pregaming, the rest meeting you later. "And take an Uber to the bar."
"It’s a ten-minute walk," you shoot back instantly, crossing your arms. "I’m not wasting my money on that."
Jack exhales, slow and long, like he saw that coming. "Hand me your phone."
You don’t even hesitate, though your eyes narrow as you pass it over. "What are you doing?"
"Saving you from yourself," he mutters, already unlocking it, password memorised. His thumbs move quickly, tapping through screens easily.
You lean slightly, trying to peek. "Jack—"
"Relax," he says, not even looking up. "I’m not reading your messages."
"Wow, thank you for that bare minimum reassurance."
He huffs a quiet laugh, then hands the phone back. "My card’s on there. Take an Uber."
You glance at the screen, then back at him, sighing. "…Alright."
He studies you for a second, like he’s deciding whether to argue further, then seems to accept the win. His hand comes up, settling briefly at your waist as he pulls you a step closer. He presses a soft kiss to the side of your head, lingering just a second longer than necessary. "I’ll see you later, honey."
The door clicks shut behind him, and there is exactly one second of silence. Then—
A high-pitched squeal cuts through the hallway. "Oh my god, you two are disgusting," Lily breathes, clutching her chest.
You roll your eyes, but you’re already laughing, shaking your head as you take Lily by the arm and guide her further inside. "You're just jealous."
"Am not," Lily says immediately, though her grin says otherwise. Her eyes are already darting around, taking everything in. "Also—wow."
She steps fully into the living room, turning slowly like she’s trying to catalogue the entire place at once. "Okay," Lily says, wandering a few steps farther in. "This is so nice."
"Right?" Trinity chimes in from near the hallway, already halfway through opening a door before you even notice. "I’m just gonna—"
"Trin—" you start.
Too late. She peeks inside anyway. "Bathroom. Boring," she announces, closing it and immediately moving to the next.
"You guys are unbelievable," you mutter, though there’s no real heat behind it.
"Wait, is this your room?" Trinity asks.
"No," you say quickly. "Trinity—"
"I’m just looking!" she insists, disappearing down the hall anyway.
Lily drifts toward a bookshelf, tilting her head as she scans the spines. Mel perches carefully on the very edge of the couch, like she’s still not entirely sure she’s allowed to take up space there—but she’s trying. There’s a small smile on her face as she watches the rest of you bicker and move around each other, something soft and a little uncertain, like she’s easing into the rhythm of it. You're not sure how Trinity managed to convince her to come out with you—but you're so happy she did. You like Mel.
From the kitchen, ice clinks against glass. "Come get your drinks," Parker calls.
You make your way over, leaning against the counter as she hands you a glass. Behind you, Trinity’s voice echoes from down the hall, "Oh my god, your closet is so organised, it’s actually stressful."
"Don’t touch anything!" you call back.
"I’m not touching—I’m just looking!"
"Same thing!"
Lily appears beside you again, still grinning. "No, really, you guys are so cute," she says, nudging your arm. "I’ve seen you two at shift change, but never like that."
"Like what?" you ask, taking a sip.
"Domestic," she says immediately. "It’s weird. In a good way. But also—" she scrunches her nose, "—barf."
"They’re barf material," Trinity yells from the hallway, doubling down. Mel grins over the rim of her glass.
You shake your head, laughing despite yourself, the earlier tension finally loosening its grip.
"Oh—wait," Lily suddenly says, her whole expression shifting as something clicks. She turns to you, eyes wide. "I’m so sorry about inviting Smith, I didn’t know—"
"It’s fine," you cut in easily, waving a hand like it’s nothing. And you mean it. She couldn't have known. "Seriously. Don’t worry about it."
Parker snorts, not even looking up as she pours another drink. "Yeah, we’ll just make sure she sees exactly who she’s dealing with tonight."
"Ooh yes. Here's to dressing slutty," Trinity adds, sliding up to the table and grabbing a drink.
Lily raises her glass, grinning. "And to making Abbot incapable of coherent thought."
You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch anyway as glasses clink together around you.
Olivia’s words echo in your mind: Flirt more. Try harder. See what happens. You have… kind of. But nothing bold. Nothing risky.
Tonight? Tonight you’re going to push it. And if it blows up—there’s alcohol, witnesses, plausible deniability.
The house descends into chaos, music playing just loud enough to keep the energy up without drowning conversation. Empty glasses and half-finished drinks cluttered the coffee table.
Trinity has taken over the couch like she owns it, legs tucked under her, talking fast and loud about something that had happened earlier as she draws a sharp cat eye. Lily sits cross-legged on the floor, halfway through curling her hair, pausing every few seconds to laugh. Parker hovers near the kitchen, topping up everyone’s drinks whether they ask or not. Mel lingers just at the edge of everything, but she’s smiling more now, shoulders less tense. Every now and then, someone pulls her into the conversation, and her laughter blends softly with the rest.
"Can I do your makeup?" you ask once you're finished with your own.
She blinks, caught off guard. "Who—who, me?"
You nod, already shifting closer. "We can do something simple… or we can go all out. Your choice."
"Um… well," she glances back at Trinity. "Could we do that?"
"A cat eye?" you light up. "Yes. Absolutely."
You're sitting in front of her now, steadying her chin, carefully dragging eyeliner across her lid.
Behind you, Trinity leans back into the couch cushions, watching. "I’m doing her hair next," she declares.
You finish Mel’s eyeliner, leaning back to assess your work. "Okay. Now don’t touch it."
Mel turns toward the mirror, and her expression shifts. "Oh… wow."
"Okay," Trinity cuts in, pointing at you as she grabs the curling iron. "Your turn. Go change. We need to see the look."
You grab your drink off the table, taking a quick sip before heading toward the bedroom.
"I'll come with you," Parker says. "Make sure you don't choose something boring."
The bedroom is quieter, the living room muffled behind the door. Parker perches on the bed, watching as you pull options from the closet. "No." You hold up another. "No." Another. "Absolutely not. What is that?"
"You’re so picky," you mutter.
"Sit," she orders, pointing at the spot she just left.
You roll your eyes—but sit. Parker is already on her feet, rifling through your closet, pushing hangers aside. She pauses, then slowly pulls a dress out.
Black. Fitted in all the right places, but still soft. Short. "This one," she says, turning to you—and the look she gives you makes it very clear this is not a discussion. "Abbot will have a heart attack."
You raise a brow—but you’re already reaching for it. You don’t bother turning away as you change. Parker doesn’t even blink, just leans back on her hands, completely unfazed. Your first year of residency together killed any sense of modesty between you.
"Girl, if you weren't married, I'd tap that," Parker says with a smirk. "If Abbot ever fucks things up, you'll always have me."
You laugh, loud and unfiltered. "I'll keep that in mind." You grab your drink again, finishing what’s left in one go, the warmth settling low in your chest.
"Alright," you say, turning toward the door, a spark of something sharper and bolder settling in as the fabric shifts against your body. "Let’s do shots before we leave."
Parker grins, already pushing off the bed. "Now you’re talking."
You spill out of the Uber in a tangle of laughter, Lily gripping your arm as she nearly misses the curb entirely. The air hits cool against your skin, grounding but not nearly enough to dull the soft buzz humming through you. Even Mel looks a little looser around the edges now.
Inside, the bar is already alive. Trinity pushes ahead, dragging Parker with her toward the bar. Lily stays close to you, fingers hooked loosely in your arm so you don’t get separated, while Mel lingers just behind, taking it all in.
Your eyes are searching the crowd, but it doesn't take long to find him. Jack's at the bar with other night shift people, leaning back against the counter. He looks relaxed, posture loosened by alcohol, but his eyes keep flicking toward the door.
Even half-hidden behind the others, he sees you. His mouth curves immediately in response. The group converges, greetings overlapping, orders being shouted toward the bartender—but it all blurs a little as you step closer to him.
"Hi," you say. You don’t overthink it—you just lean in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. His reaction is immediate, his hand finding your waist, steady and warm. "Oops," you murmur, swiping your thumb lightly over his cheek. "Lipstick."
Jack doesn't seem to mind. He's watching you. You can see his eyes move, taking you in properly. From your face, down the line of your neck, over the dress… lingering just a second too long at the hem.
The reaction hits you instantly—a warm, electric rush settling low. You grin, leaning back to give him more space to look. "Do you like it?"
He hums, head tilting. "Can't really see it, sweetheart."
Your smile sharpens. "Oh?" you murmur, sliding your fingers into his. You lift his hand, spinning beneath it. The dress shifts against your thighs. "How about now?"
His grip tightens slightly when you come back to him. His gaze burns dark. "You look…" he starts, then pauses, swallowing once. "You look gorgeous."
There’s something in the way he says it—something quieter and more real than you'd imagined. For a second, you just hold his gaze, letting that settle between you, then your smile softens, something genuine slipping through the teasing. "Thank you."
You close the space again without thinking, your body angling naturally into his. His hand adjusts at your waist, pulling you in just a little closer.
Before you can say anything else, the music shifts. Trinity lights up instantly. "Oh, this is my song," she announces, already grabbing Lily.
"Wait—no—" Lily protests, laughing as she’s dragged away anyway.
Parker doesn’t even hesitate. "We’re going," she says, pointing at you and Mel like there’s no alternative.
Mel hesitates, clearly unsure. "I don’t—"
"You do now," Parker calls, already moving. Mel looks at you like she’s not entirely convinced, but she turns anyway.
You glance back at Jack, one brow lifting slightly. "Wanna come dance?"
"I don't dance, sweetheart," he answers.
You hum, leaning in just a little closer, your fingers brushing lightly along the front of his shirt. "That’s a shame," you murmur. Your gaze flicks up to his. "I think you’d be good at it."
His hand tightens at your waist. "Yeah?" he says, his voice lower now.
"Mm," you hum, lips curving slightly, a little more confident now, alcohol heightening the feeling that it might not be just you feeling this way. You might’ve said more—leaned in just a little further, pushed it one step further past safe—
—but Parker’s hand closes around your arm, pulling you with her before you can. And just like that, you’re gone into the crowd—though you can still feel the imprint of his hand where it was, and the weight of his gaze lingering long after.
The dance floor is packed, bodies moving close, lights flashing in uneven bursts. Trinity is fully in her element—hands in the air, singing along to every word, whether she knows them or not. Parker’s matching her energy, spinning Lily into her until they’re both laughing too hard to keep rhythm.
Mel hovers at first, then slowly loosens, shoulders relaxing, a small smile turning into something more real as she lets herself move. You fall into it easily enough—the music, the drinks, the way the night feels like it’s building toward something. Every now and then, you catch glimpses of the bar, half-looking for him without meaning to.
Time blurs a little after that—songs bleeding into each other, drinks appearing and disappearing, the group shifting and reforming as people wander and come back.
Eventually, the heat of the dance floor gets to be too much, so you slip away, weaving through the crowd toward the bar. "Water, please," you say, sliding onto one of the high chairs. The bartender nods, and a second later, you’ve got a cold glass in your hand. You take a long sip, closing your eyes for just a second.
God, that’s better.
You’re just starting to settle, letting the room sway lightly around you, when a voice cuts in beside you. "Hey—"
You don’t turn right away. A man leans against the bar next to you anyway, shaggy-haired, smirking. "I saw you out there," he says, nodding toward the dance floor. "You looked good."
"Thanks," you answer, your voice cool, eyes forward, sipping again. Letting him know you’re not interested.
He doesn’t take the hint. "I’m Trent," he goes on, shifting closer like that alone will make this work. "You’ve got some moves, but I think we could make some great moves together—if you know what I mean."
You let out a soft, unimpressed breath. "I’m married," you say, lifting your hand just enough for the ring to catch the light.
He hesitates for only a heartbeat before smirking like he thinks he can charm it away. "He doesn’t have to know."
Your expression shifts, irritation flickering sharper now. You finally turn your head fully, meeting his gaze.
He mistakes it instantly for interest and leans in just a little more.
"I'm not interested," you say flatly.
"Come on," he presses, his voice dropping like that’s supposed to help. "Your husband can’t please you like I—"
"You sure about that?" Jack’s voice cuts through like a blade. You feel him before you see him—solid at your back, close enough that your shoulder brushes his chest. The shift is immediate.
Trent straightens, the confidence cracking just slightly as he looks past you. Gone is the easy, relaxed lean from earlier. Now he’s all sharp lines and tension—shoulders squared, jaw tight, eyes locked on Trent.
"Fuck off," Jack says, voice quiet but edged. "And leave my wife alone."
Trent looks like he might argue for half a second—ego flaring—but then he really looks at Jack. At the way he’s standing. The way his gaze doesn’t waver. The kind of anger that doesn’t need volume to be threatening. It drains out of him just as fast. "Yeah—yeah, man, whatever," he mutters, backing off, hands half-raised like he wants no part of it anymore. He disappears into the crowd.
Jack doesn’t move until he’s gone. "Asshole," he murmurs, then he turns to you. His hands land on your hips, spinning your chair so you’re facing him fully. "You okay?" he asks. His voice is still low—but different now. Still tight, but threaded with something protective.
You look up at him. At the tension still lingering in his jaw. The way his eyes flick over you like he’s making sure you’re actually fine. Your breath stutters just slightly as heat curls low in your stomach. Your thighs press together instinctively, a reflex you can’t fully control. You feel it everywhere—warm, electric, pooling low, your pulse throbbing in places it shouldn't.
You’re hyper-aware of him: the brush of his hands on your hips, the nearness of his chest, the tension still coiled in his body, ready to snap at a moment’s notice. Your eyes betray you—you know it. They darken, deepen, and when your gaze meets his, you see it reflected back.
"Mm," you hum softly.
Jack watches you for a second longer, like he's clocking the shift in you, before he exhales lightly. "Come join us at the pool table."
He doesn’t pause for your answer. His hand finds yours, fingers sliding between yours with a possessiveness that makes your stomach flutter. He keeps you close as he guides you through the crowd, and the heat in your chest only grows.
The pool area is quieter. Enough space to breathe, enough light to actually see what you’re doing. Shen’s already there, lining up a shot with calm precision, like the chaos of the bar doesn’t touch him at all.
"You play?" he asks without looking up.
"Define play," you reply, grabbing a cue from the rack. Truthfully, you don’t care about the game—not with Jack this close.
You lean over the table, more focused on the way your dress shifts against your thighs than the shot.
You hit. The cue ball goes entirely the wrong direction. "Damn," you say, pretending to be disappointed.
"Sweetheart." Jack’s voice comes from behind you, closer than before, threaded with amusement. "What was that?"
You glance over your shoulder, lips already pulling into a small pout. "I don’t know how to do it."
His eyes flick to your mouth before returning to your eyes. Shen sinks his shot cleanly in the background.
You step forward again when it’s your turn, deliberately setting up another questionable shot. There’s a small pause, then—
"Here," Jack says, a little quieter now. "Let me help you." He steps in behind you before you can move. Close enough that you feel the heat of him before anything else—his presence slotting in naturally. His hand slides over yours on the cue, the other settling at your waist.
"Not like that," he murmurs, his voice lower now. "You’re fighting it."
You inhale a little sharper than you mean to.
"Loosen this," he adds, thumb pressing lightly against your fingers. His mouth is near your ear now, close enough that you feel the shape of the words more than hear them. "Yeah," he says softly. "Like that."
For a second, the rest of the room fades—the noise, the game, Shen waiting patiently at the edge of it.
"Take it," he murmurs. You do. The ball sinks cleanly this time.
He steps back again. You straighten, turning toward him. He’s already looking at you. There’s something hotter there now. Something that matches exactly what’s been burning under your skin all night.
It hits you all at once, sharp and unmistakable. Oh.
This isn’t one-sided. This isn’t you imagining things or pushing boundaries just to see what happens.
He’s… there with you. Meeting it. Responding. Wanting it.
You don't win the game, but it doesn't really matter. You barely register the score. Because every time you step up to the table after that, you can feel his eyes on you—and every time he steps in again, a little closer, a little bolder—it has nothing to do with pool anymore.
It actually feels possible now—and that changes everything.
Shen’s convinced Bridget to play him after absolutely destroying you. You linger off to the side with Lily and Jack, half-listening as they laugh about something, half-watching the game. You're mostly focused on how his thumb keeps stroking softly against your hip bone.
"I’m gonna go pee," you murmur into Jack's ear, your lips brushing just enough to feel the warmth of his skin before you slip away. He lets you go, but his hand lingers for half a second at your waist.
"I'll be at the bar," he responds, smiling at you with half-lidded eyes.
The second you’re in the bathroom, door locked behind you, you exhale hard—then immediately press a hand to your mouth, a breathy, disbelieving laugh slipping out anyway.
"Okay—okay," you whisper to yourself, pacing once in the tiny stall. Your head is light—spinning, but not in a bad way. The alcohol sitting just right in your system, softening your edges, quieting the part of you that usually overthinks everything. You press your lips together, trying to steady yourself, but the grin keeps pulling back. "Jesus," you breathe, shaking your head.
You’re just about to step out when you hear it. A voice, sweet and slightly high-pitched, carrying just loud enough for you to catch the words over the music. "Has Abbot done this before? Been with other residents? Do you think I still have a chance?"
Your body stills instantly. Smith. You'd completely forgotten that she was here. The other girl answers, uncertain, but it barely registers over the rush in your ears.
"I just don’t really see how they fit," Smith continues, giggling softly. "I mean, I’ve never seen them kiss or be really affectionate with each other."
Something in you snaps. A sharp, sudden possessiveness that cuts clean through the haze of alcohol and lands hard in your chest.
By the time the door swings shut behind them, you’re already walking. You don’t even fully think it through. You just move.
You find him easily, leaning against the bar, talking to Jesse and Donnie. Stepping close, your hand finds his arm, fingers curling into him. "Hey," you murmur.
He glances at you, turning his attention fully to you as he senses the shift in your energy.
You don't give him time to ask. You just lean in. This time it isn’t a quick, calculated peck. It’s not something you can pass off or laugh away.
It’s immediate—sharp and demanding. Your lips press to his with a purpose you can’t deny. Your other hand comes up to his shoulder, to his neck, pulling him closer, claiming him.
His reaction is just as instinctive. He cups your waist, tilts you slightly, deepening the kiss without hesitation. He exhales softly against your mouth before his tongue skims your lower lip. The world around you drops away until there’s only this. Only the two of you, lost in the heat and closeness that’s been simmering all night. The alcohol doesn’t dull it—it amplifies it. Makes you bolder, less restrained, and less willing to pull back.
As you break apart just slightly, your forehead resting against his, you whisper, barely audible over the pulse of the bar, "Sorry," you breathe. "Needed to… shut something down."
Jack doesn’t answer right away. His hand is still firm at your waist, thumb resting just where the fabric meets your skin. Not pulling away. Not loosening.
You expect a smirk. A joke. Something that minimises the heat. Instead, when you finally lift your eyes to his— he’s looking at you. Focused. Pupils blown.
His gaze drops to your mouth, like he’s replaying it, then back to your eyes.
"Yeah?" he says quietly, but he doesn’t move back. He doesn’t create distance like it was just a moment, just another cover-up. If anything, his grip tightens slightly, like he's keeping you right where you are. There’s the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth when you don't answer.
"Right," he murmurs, softer this time. But the way he says it—the look he gives you—doesn’t suggest he buys it. Not entirely. He looks at you like he's considering doing it again.
Summary: you and Jack travel to London, to attend an awards ceremony in which your new novel is nominated for two awards. Jack decides he’s making a vacation out of it.
W/C: 5.3k (this got away from me)
Warnings: oral (m and f receiving); p in v sex; pussy pronouns because I am who I am.
A/N: title from a romance novel. One of my favorite sex scenes I’ve ever written (hubby said “holy fucking shit babe”).
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
One of your favorite parts of being a romance author is going to the Romantic Novelists’ Association Awards. Given annually to various types of romance novels, it’s a great time to catch up with your author friends, meet new ones, and let loose over glasses of wine and good food. This year is even more exciting for you due to two things. This is the first time you are nominated for an award, your book Aiding Sam is up for both Best Romantic Comedy and Romance Novel of the Year, and this is the first year that you are serious enough with a partner to invite him. Doctor Jack Abbot, night shift attending at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. You met him at a coffee shop where you shared your table with him. You wrote and he read medical journals, but the spark was obvious from the get-go. You gave him your number, he took you out for dinner, and you invited him up to your place after he walked you home. The rest was history. Jack even helped you with the plot of Aiding Sam as it featured an Army Captain named Sam and a no-nonsense aide named Denise that worked on the base who had been friends for ages before realizing they are in love with each other. A take on When Harry Met Sally meets Crossing Delancey, the book has been one of your biggest critical and commercial successes.
You invited Jack but didn’t expect him to be able to come, as the awards were in London. To your surprise he was able to get two whole weeks off. He had to call in a bunch of favors, but he made it work for you. You two were going to make a whole getaway. Do the awards, tour London, and even spend some time in Stratford-upon-Avon. Jack knew how much you loved Shakespeare so he made sure to get you to the place where he was born.
Jack handled all of the reservations, so when you arrived at Pittsburgh International Airport you were shocked he had sprung for the Club World seats for your flight, which were British Airway’s fancy first class seats. You breezed past security and entered the Club World lounge.
“Jack, this is too much!”
“Nonsence. You and I both know I can afford it. And what good is my salary if I can’t use it to spoil you. This is your first time being nominated, and for multiple awards. You deserve it.” You smile and shake your head, accepting the glass of wine Jack hands you.
“I love you so much. Thank you for doing this for me.”
“I’m not about to miss my girl win two awards.”
“No guarantee I’ll win.”
“They’d be stupid not to award them to you.”
“You’re biased.”
“Damn straight,” Jack said as he took a sip from his whisky. The two of you chatted until it was time to board the airplane. Jack had gotten you the two seats next to each other in the back row of the first Club World section. He brought the barrier down between the seats so you could talk and see each other on the cross-Atlantic flight. Because of the long haul flight, you got dinner and breakfast.
Once the plane hits cruising altitude the flight attendants bring out the free alcohol. Jack gets another whisky, while you opt for another glass of white wine. The two of you chat about your plans for after the gala and how excited Jack is for this long of a break until dinner is served. You get the same salad made with red quinoa, while you get the ricotta ravioli for your main and Jack gets the grilled chicken. For airplane food it is surprisingly amazing. Even with the nicest seats on the plane you didn’t expect food this good. You get a chocolate mouse for dessert, served with berries.
After dinner Jack pulls out a medical journal he’s been meaning to read, while you boot up your laptop to work on your next novel.
“What’s the premise for that one again?” Jack asks you.
“I’ve never done a dark romance so I wanted to give it a try. They’re popular right now. So this is about a woman falling for her stalker after he saves her from being attacked.” Jack laughs.
“Seriously?”
“Yup. Falling for someone who is morally grey? They’ll eat it up.”
“And women like this?”
“Why do you think Pope from Animal Kingdom has such a big fan base? Or any of the Sons from Sons of Anarchy?”
“Oh. Like Omar from The Wire or Eastwood's The Man with No Name?” You nod.
“And like, all the Greek mythology retellings. A lot of them, like Psyche and Eros by Luna McNamara. Even the ones that have the Devil as the love interest, like Original Sinner by Kait Ballenger.”
“The Devil, huh?”
“Yup. Actually Kait will be at this event as well. She’s up for the Paranormal away this year. I’m excited to meet her.”
“I can dress up as the Devil for Halloween.” You roll your eyes at Jack.
“I like you just the way you are, Jack Abbot. Besides, the sexiest part about those men is their possessiveness, dominance, and protectiveness. And you’ve got those traits in spades.” Jack leans in to whisper to you.
“And I can show you all of those once we’re at the hotel. If you’re good. Even more if you’re bad.” He slips his headphones on, leaving you slack mouthed and shivering in anticipation.
The flight went by with no issues, the fancy seats Jack sprung for helping with that. You landed at Heathrow and joined the queue for your bags. Jack insisted on being the one to pull both your bags off the belt, and you just rolled your eyes and let him. He liked taking care of you. Once Jack had your bags on a luggage cart he led you to where the car services pick up clients. Needless to say, you were shocked, expecting to just hail a taxi to your hotel. But Jack loved spoiling you. The two of you walked up to a chauffeur holding a sign that says "ABBOT" on it. Jack shakes the man's hand, and the chauffeur grabs your bags. "Right this way, sir, ma'am," the driver says as he leads you out the doors. You follow him to a sleek black Rolls Royce, and he holds the door open for you and Jack. Once the two of you are inside the driver places your luggage in the back. The car has a divider between you and the driver, and you assume Jack has told him where you are going since he doesn't ask.
“You got us a car service? You really are spoiling me.” Jack smiles at you.
“Car service is from the hotel. They’re known for their concierge service. Just you wait til we get there.” You spend the next few minutes trying to get Jack to tell you where you are going, but he is tight lipped. Eventually you feel the car coming to a stop, and the door is opened by a man in a uniform that has “Savoy” stitched on the breast. You turned to Jack.
“You’re treating me to the Savoy?”
“You deserve it.” Jack kisses you, and the two of you walk to the front desk. After an incredibly quick check in process, where the staff at the hotel handle all your bags, you and Jack are opening the door to the suite he booked.
“Welcome to our royal suite. The bar is fully stocked, complimentary of course. We’ve set up the shower to your instructions, and all you need to do is call the front desk when you are in need of any service. It looks like we have you booked for our afternoon tea at one, as well as dinner at the Savoy Grill at seven. Does everything sound correct, sir?” You raise your brows at everything the man says. Jack really planned ahead.
“And our reservation for tomorrow?”
“The couples massage is set for eleven in the morning at our spa.”
“Perfect, thank you,” Jack replied as he slipped the man a £20 bank note. The man nodded and left the room. You look around the room some more, noting the L shaped couch, king sized bed on a four poster bed frame. The bed even had a canopy. A wooden desk was facing the window in the bedroom. Looking into the bathroom your breath hitched. A tub big enough for both you and Jack sits in the center. Dark wood surrounds the tub, as well as in the walls next to the tub. To the right is a shower big enough for four people, multiple shower heads, and a wooden shower bench for Jack. To the right is a window that looks over the Thames. You go back out to the living area to see Jack standing by the couch, a smile on his face.
“You haven’t seen the best part yet,” Jack says. He leads you to a door leading out to a private balcony, also overlooking the Thames. The balcony had couches and small tables, perfect for breakfast in your room. You have a beautiful view not only of the river, but you're also high enough that you can see Cleopatra’s Needle above the trees on your right.
“I can’t wait to see the Needle up close,” you tell Jack as he comes up behind you, hugging you. The two of you stand on your balcony, just taking in the view. You lean back into Jack’s embrace, his head resting on your shoulder.
“I’m glad you get the view of it. I picked a room with a view of the Thames in hopes we’d get the view of Cleopatra’s Needle as well.” You turn around to kiss Jack.
“Thank you again. You treat me so well. I’m so thankful to have you.” Jack smiles and kisses you again.
“C’mon, let’s rest a bit before tea.” You follow Jack back in the room and the two of you go to relax on the couch. The two of you cuddled and chatted about how exciting it is to be in London until it’s time for you to get ready. You refresh your makeup before slipping into your dress, a black and white floral number that comes up to your knees, with sleeves that come up to your mid bicep. The skirt has tulle under it so it poofs out a little, making you feel like Audrey Hepburn or Grace Kelly. You leave your hair as it is, and slip on a pair of kitten heels. You grab your clutch that has your essentials and go back out to the living room to find Jack. Your breath catches when you see him. He’s in a dark green suit, white shirt underneath. He doesn’t have a tie on and has the top two buttons undone.
“You look amazing,” Jack tells you. “Do you think they’ll make me wear a tie?”
“You look hot. And no, but why don’t you bring one along just in case? You can slip it on if need be.” Jack grabs a tie in the same color of his suit, and offers his arm to you. Giggling you take it, allowing him to lead you out of the room and to the elevators. Once you read the floor with the tea room, he leads you to the hostess stand.
“Good afternoon, how may we help you?” The hostess asks.
“We have a reservation, under Abbot.” The hostess checks her book, nods, and brings you to a table close to the window.
“Here you are, sir, ma’am. Please enjoy.” You and Jack thank her, and sit down. Instead of normal dining chairs, each table has couches and comfy padded chairs, with pillows placed on each seat. Gorgeous white and gold teacups sit on the table, along with matching plates and a champagne flute for each of you. You pick up the menu to look at the tea options.
“I opted for the afternoon high tea, but if you want to upgrade I’m more than happy to.”
“Jack, you’re already spoiling me so much this trip. Besides, I’m not feeling caviar.” He laughs as the server walks up.
“Good afternoon, my name is Blake and I will be your server this afternoon. I see we already have booked the high tea, so our chef is currently putting together your sandwiches. You both will get a tea and a hot dish as well. Do we need some time to decide?”
“I need some time to look at the teas, but I know what I want for my hot dish. Jack?”
“Same here. Ladies first,” Jack says, gesturing towards you.
“I’ll have the duck breast,” you tell the server.
“So will I.” The server nods and says he’ll be back momentarily to take your tea order.
“What are you thinking?” Jack asks you.
“I’m debating between the chai tea or the red dragon. I love chai, but their Red Dragon tea has notes of fruit and chocolate. You?”
“For tea? Earl Grey. Hot.” You laugh at his Star Trek reference.
“Okay Captain Picard. Didn’t think you liked Early Grey.”
“I don’t. Just wanted to see if you’d get the reference. I’ll probably get the Savoy Afternoon blend.”
“Jack, we’ve watched Star Trek together, silly.” Jack smiles at you.
“Why don’t you get the chai since you know you like it, as we can try the Red Dragon later in the room. They can deliver tea with room service.” The waiter came back with a tray of sandwiches, scones, and sweet pastries, along with water for the two of you. Jack placed your tea orders, as you grabbed a cucumber sandwich that also has ricotta on a spinach bread. Jack opts for a smoked salmon sandwich on brioche and takes a bite.
“Good?” You ask as you take a bite of your sandwich.
“Very, very good. This smoked salmon may be better than the lox Robby gets. Don’t tell him that.” You laugh. The waiter reappears with two tea pots, white with gold designs to match your cups. You thank him and he leaves the table. Jack goes to pour his tea but you stop him.
“Let me. Makes me feel like a fancy host.” You pour Jack’s tea first, savoring the rich scent. After his cup is set, you go to pour your own.
“Let me pour yours. Can’t have my girl doing all the work.” You jokingly roll your eyes but let him pour you your tea. The scent of the chai spices floods your senses and you can’t help but smile. Once your tea is poured the waiter comes back with your hot dishes. Taking a small bite you groan at how good the duck is. It has a red wine jus, along with a blackberry and plum compote. Jack also seems to be enjoying his food.
“This is so good.”
“It really is. Thank you again for spoiling me so much, Jack. I’d be at a cheap hotel if you didn’t spoil me.”
“You’re worth it. Plus it’s your first nomination! And technically also your second since you’re nominated twice. They’d be silly not to have you win.”
“I’m up against some good authors. I’m honored to even be nominated.”
“Even Robby loves your books.” You finish your duck, and grab a scone. Breaking it into small pieces you add clotted cream and strawberry jam.
“Does he really?”
“He does. And so does his girlfriend, Summer.”
“I love how supportive he is. I knew he bought them and had me sign them all, but didn’t realize he actually read them.”
“Except the military ones. Something about not wanting to read sex scenes based on me.” The two of you laughed. Once done with your scones the two of you started eyeing the desserts.
“These all look so good. I need to try a piece of each.” Jack hums in agreement and cuts off pieces of each dessert for you. The first one you try is an Earl Grey tea cake with blackberry and blueberries.
“Oh this one is so good but you can definitely taste the tea. You should still try it.” Jack takes a small bite and nods.
“Okay. I don’t hate it like I do the tea straight up, but it’s not my favorite. But I do think the flavors work well together.” Jack picks the next one to try. It’s a citrus flavored mouse on vanilla cake.
“Oh this one is amazing,” Jack says. You agree with him. The citrus dances across your tongue, never overpowering.
“Let’s do the apple one next. I want to save the chocolate one for last.” Jack agrees. The dessert is apple compote with vanilla creme brûlée over shortbread.
“I love the ratio of everything. So good.” Jack cuts up the last cake, a chocolate hazelnut one with caramel and chocolate ganache. It tastes like heaven.
“Okay, this is my favorite. If I ever need a fancy cake I want something like this,” you tell Jack.
“I agree.” The two of you take time finishing the tea, enjoying each other's company. As you get ready to leave Jack lets you know that he already paid the bill when he booked.
“Are you going to let me get anything this trip?”
“What kind of partner would I be if I did that? We’re celebrating you. I know if you planned a vacation to celebrate one of my achievements you wouldn’t let me pay.”
“That is true,” you say as Jack holds his arm out for you. You make your way back to your rooms.
Once inside, you back Jack towards the wall and kiss him. He opens his mouth and you slide your tongue in. You bring your arms around his neck and he rests his on your hips. Breaking away for air Jack takes the moment to speak.
“Excited?”
“You have no idea,” you reply, kissing along Jack’s neck. You take his jacket off and begin unbuttoning his shirt. Eventually he’s down to just his undershirt. You kiss his clavicle and move to kneel in front of him. Jack helps you work his pants open, tossing his belt to the side. You free his hard cock from his pants and briefs, pushing the clothing down just enough. He pulls his undershirt off, leaving him shirtless and you lick his abs before going back down to your knees.
“Let me show you how much I appreciate you and this trip,” you tell him, while stroking his cock. You slowly lick up his shaft, and run your tongue over his head, tasting his precum. Jack moans and brings a hand to your head, gripping your hair. Not to control, but to have another way to feel you. You kiss down his shaft, and bring his balls into your mouth. Keeping a hand working his shaft, you lick and kiss his balls in the way that you know drives him wild. He moans out your name, and you suck his balls harder, keeping up with stroking him. Jack moans that he’s close and you go back to taking his cock in your mouth. Your chin is covered in a mixture of your spit and his precum, but you don’t care. You bob up and down on his cock, taking him deeper each time to move your head down. Eventually you’re able to fully take him in, nose brushing the hair at the base of his cock. You start moving faster as his hand grips your hair tighter. With a groan of your name you taste Jack spilling inside your mouth. You swallow every last drop of him, and slowly come off him.
“Fuck. Holy shit. You are amazing,” Jack says as he helps you up. He crashes his lips to yours again as he kicks off his pants. He backs you up to the bed.
“Let’s get this dress off, yeah?” Jack sits on the bed as you slowly unzip your dress. Sensually pulling it off you smile as Jack sees your lingerie for the first time. You have on a black bra that makes your tits look amazing, a black lacy thong, and a garter belt that holds your thigh highs up. You once again kneel in front of Jack, this time to take off his prosthetic. You kiss along his scar, and grab his lotion from the side table and begin to massage his residual limb. He leans back and groans. As you finish up he readjusts so he’s laying on his back.
“Why don’t you peel that thong off and come have a seat. I need to taste you, see how wet you got from being on your knees for me.” You can feel yourself getting even wetter at Jack’s words. Thankful for the fact you put your thong on after the garter belt, you took it off and then undid your bra. You climbed on the bed in just your garter belt and thigh highs and moved to do as Jack asked. He pulled you down onto his mouth and you gasped in shock. Jack begins to lick and suck, moaning at how wet you are. He alternates between flicking his tongue over your clit and sucking your clit. He licks your folds again and you grind down on him. You ride his face until he taps your leg and you lift up to allow him to breathe.
“Get on your back,” Jack ordered and you complied. You remember Jack promising to show you dominance on the flight and you’re more than happy to experience that. Jack crawls on top of you and kisses you. You moan as you taste yourself on his lips. He kisses down your chest, stomach, and eventually goes back to your cunt. He goes back to licking your clit and pushes a finger inside you. Discovering how wet you are he adds a second finger. Making a “come here” gesture while flicking his tongue over your clit he has you coming in no time. After you finish riding out your orgasm Jack kisses back up your body until he’s kissing your lips again. You can feel him hard again, and you open your legs to allow him access. He grabs a pillow to put under his residual limb, allowing him to be in the position he wants to be.
“Fuck me, Jack. Let me feel how hard I make you.” Jack groans and lines his cock up with your pussy. He pushes into you, allowing you a moment to get used to him.
“You feel so perfect. She’s perfect around my cock. Knows who she belongs to.” You clench around Jack at his possessive words, and he slowly comes almost all the way out of you before slamming back in. He pulls your right leg over his hip, allowing him to go deeper. Jack sets a fast pace, the angle allowing him to hit that spot inside you that makes you see stars.
“Fuck Jack, on my god. You feel so fucking good.”
“Yeah? You like when I take what’s mine? Like when I fuck you had and deep?” You moan a yes in response. Jack brings his hand down to your clit, and the combination of his thumb working your clit with his cock inside you sends you over the edge again, your second orgasm of the day washing over you. Jack is close behind, finishing inside you with a grunt of your name. He collapses on top of you, and kisses you.
“I can’t wait to fuck you on every surface in this room. Got to show you how much I love that pussy.”
“If you keep talking like that I’m going to want to go again, and I know you’ll want to rest before dinner.” Jack rolls over with a laugh, and grabs his arm crutches. You hear him head to the bathroom, and he returns with a wet washcloth. With a tenderness that makes your heart swoon, he gently cleans you. Tossing the washcloth to the side he comes back to bed. He lays on his back, and pulls you in close. You rest your head on his shoulder, and play with his chest hair.
“I set an alarm in case we fall asleep. That way we’ll have enough time to get ready for dinner.”
“Thank you, Jack. You really do think of everything.”
After a nap, it’s time to get ready for dinner. You join Jack in the shower, enjoying the fancy products the hotel has. Jack says the shower bench is better than any he’s used at hotels and that makes you smile. You know sometimes the hotels have horrible quality in their accessible rooms. But it is the Savoy and they are known for going above and beyond.
“Wonder how much weight this bench can handle?” You ask as you soap up Jack’s chest.
“We’ll have to test that out later,” he responds, taking the washcloth from you to wash your body. Taking care of each other in the shower is one of your favorite ways to show intimacy, especially when Jack has a bad day at work. You kneel down and begin massaging his residual limb. It took a long time for Jack to be comfortable with you taking care of his limb, but now he sees it for the love and care it is and not as an act of pity. After the shower you both put on fluffy robes. Jack makes his way to the bedroom to put on his prosthetic before getting dressed. You’re glad the airplane staff didn’t mess up his crutches. They’re able to break down to fit in a suitcase but you still worried. Jack joked with the money he spent on tickets they would be buying him new ones if they got messed up. You got to work doing your hair, putting it in an updo so you could show off the necklace and earrings Jack bought you for your last birthday. They were sapphires and diamonds from Tiffany and Company. Once your hair and makeup is done you go to put on your dress. A dark blue dress that matches your sapphires, it comes down to your ankles and has one small strap on your right shoulder while your left shoulder has a bigger strap. The dress is from Versace and has the medusa logo silver on the smaller strap. You bought it when you got your first royality check from Aiding Sam. You slip on silver heels and head out of the bathroom to have Jack finish zipping you up. His breath hitches as he sees you.
“Holy shit. You look amazing. I love that your dress matches the jewelry. I’m so damn lucky,” he says as he zips you up.
“You’re not the only one who’s lucky. Look at how delicious you look.” Jack is in a black suit that’s tailored perfectly to him. He has a black tie on with a silver tie clip, and silver cufflinks. Seeing him in a suit will never get old.
“So glad that cafe was full and we had to share a table,” Jack tells you, reminiscing about how you met. Once again he gives you his arm and leads you out of the room, this time to the Savoy Grill.
Once seated you begin to look over the menu as the server comes up to take your drink orders. Jack opts for a drink called The Statesmen inspired by Churchill, while you go with an Elizabeth Taylor inspired drink called Cleopatra’s Kiss. The server nods and goes to fill your drink orders.
“We should order the bread to start. I’m interested in trying the brown butter they make with Marmite.”
“Plus I’m always down for a good sourdough,” you reply.
“Did you want to get the wagyu for two?”
“Oh that sounds lovely. Thankfully we both like it rare. I’d love the red wine jus with it. What sauce did you want?”
“The béarnaise sounds good. Pomme purée and the garlic mushrooms for the sides?”
“You know me so well.” When the waiter appears with the drinks Jack places your food order.
“I’m surprised you didn’t opt for the beef Wellington, Jack.”
“There’s still time for me to have it while we’re here. Plus if we ever go to one of Gordon Ramsey’s places back in the States I can try it there.”
“I forgot he created the menu here.”
“He has so many places. Easy to forget the ones not named Hell’s Kitchen.” You laugh at Jack’s joke and take a sip of your cocktail. Fruity notes dance across your tongue. It’s a well balanced drink and you know it would be easy to go overboard with them. You decide to stick with water after the one drink during dinner, and a glass of wine with dessert. Sooner than expected your food arrives. A lovely stack of the wagyu sits on a serving dish, with the sides in their own dishes. The sauces are on the side, allowing you to pick one or both. Jack puts some of the steak on your plate first, and then does the same for himself. You take a bite of your steak with the sauce and close your eyes.
“This is so good. This is the best steak I’ve ever had,” you tell Jack. He takes a bite and moans.
“Oh yes. This is amazing. We need to get wagyu more often.”
“Definitely for special occasions.” The rest of the dinner passes with lovely conversation. When the waiter returns he asks if you would like any after dinner drinks and desserts. You order a moscato from Sicily while Jack gets a neat Irish whisky. You opt to split the apple tarte, which comes with Madagascaran vanilla ice cream and a salted caramel sauce. After the waiter leaves Jack stands up. You cock your head to the side as Jack kneels. Your breath hitches as he pulls out a Tiffany blue box. He opens it to show your dream engagement ring. A sapphire surrounded by small diamonds on a silver band. Jack says your name.
“You have been such a ray of light in my life these past two years. I never thought I’d feel this love again, have the honor of having someone love me like this. We’ve grown such a beautiful life together and I want to never let you go. Will you do me the honor and make me the happiest man alive? Marry me?” Tears well up in your eyes.
“Oh yes, a thousand times yes.” Jack slips the ring on your finger and kisses you. As he gets back in his seat the other guests clap. When the waiter comes back with your drinks and dessert he congratulates the two of you.
“Oh I’m going to enjoy showing this ring off at the awards ceremony tomorrow evening.”
“I figured you’d want to. It’s why I picked tonight to ask,” Jack responds. The two of you enjoy your desserts and after dinner drinks, and your eyes keep catching the new ring sitting on your finger. Jack smiles as he catches you admiring it.
“I did good?”
“You know you did. I can’t wait to become Mrs. Abbot.” Jack signals for the waiter and hands the waiter his card, without even looking at the bill. The ease in which Jack spoils you used to make you squirm, but knowing how much he loves it you got used to it.
“So massages tomorrow morning and then the gala in the evening. Hopefully we’ll have two awards to bring with us back home,” Jack says as he leads you back to your rooms.
this is so off the wall but the husbo was baffled at my ability to do this so
are you able to lick the bottom of your foot?
yes
no
nil’s eyeballs only
Voting ended onMar 19
i told my dog to be a gentleman when i saw him licking his and husbo said “you’d do it if you could” and i said “i can and i don’t” but he didn’t believe me so i had to show him and anyway here we are
no way I've seen people angry about how santos spoke to/about the baby. the screaming baby.
she's right, screaming babies are *annoying* and *distracting* and saying "i see why you got left here" quietly to a month old baby who can't understand a fucking word is not a problem... in fact it's quite funny.
seeing people go "girl if you don't stfu this second that was so cruel" is actually insane because the baby doesn't give a fuck. the baby's fine. in fact, she sings to the baby very kindly and it's happy.
some of you guys are soooo obsessed with always being morally perfect and better than everyone else that you can't even have a fucking laugh. jesus. maybe go outside and rediscover joy idk.
As someone who has two children, she was SO fucking real for that and it had me and my husband cackling 😭 some of my favorites to pull when my kids were babies and had no concept of language:
Why are you acting like such a baby right now?
Are you done being dramatic?
Oh my god this must be the worst day of your life!
Someone better get you an Academy Award for this performance.
As one with legal custody of 5 children - no clue why ANYONE thought I should be allowed to raise children… kids are legally an adult, equivalent of twin 5 yos, 17 month old, 3 month old
Frequently said comments.
- Why is the infant the most mature of this group? This may or may not also include my husband.
- Go the fuck to bed before you get me to read stories instead of Daddy. Apparently he does better voices. I have rotten children.
- Bravo, bravo, amazing performance! Worthy of an Oscar!
- Keep up that crying, I thrive on tears.
The only reason why selling them on EBay/Temu/etc isn’t used is because 4 of them are not biologically ours, so it’s kind of ick. But everything else is fair game.
Granted, it may have wound up with the twins being the ones who taught their classes how to cuss. Oops?
jimmyeatworldofficial
titsay
