grumpy!jack abbot with a chubby!sunshine!reader who's a nurse
meet the reader (pt.1) here !
thank you @cafekitsune for the lovely divider !
grumpy!jack abbot who has lost so much in his life: his loving wife; his limb; his sleep—all washed away in the dust of the wars he has fought
grumpy!jack abbot who has lost himself deep into work, his focus unwavering as he pulls himself into the pitt
grumpy!jack abbot who is lost as he is consumed by the darkness, guilt and anger after losing thousands of patients that he can't genuinely crack a smile
grumpy!jack abbot who has lost the feeling of sunlight on his skin, refusing any warmth or comfort as he sucks himself in his work
grumpy!jack abbot who loses all train of thought after you come in—bringing in unwarranted sunshine, all giggles and chocolate chip cookies for everyone
grumpy!jack abbot who loses the ability to muster up even a welcome nod as he practically glares at the cookie you offer him as a greeting as if it single handedly was able to take down his walls
grumpy!jack abbot who loses his breath every time you shoot him your train wrecking smile with your dimples and round cheeks and wave at him cutely
grumpy!jack abbot who is lost on how you can constantly see kindness, spread happiness and smile so prettily even while working in this fuckass place
grumpy!jack abbot who loses his mind when robby tells him that you came from the graveyard that dr park runs upstairs when he questions your ability to last in the pitt due to your...sunny-ness
grumpy!jack abbot who loses all functions in his brain when he catches a scent of your spicy vanilla or soft lavender perfume as the touch of your skin against his burns him completely when you accidentally brush past him during traumas
grumpy!jack abbot who definitely does not lose sleep over your scrubs that deliciously spread across plush curves, thick thighs, your pouch and tummy rolls (not to mention your beautiful and soft tits)
grumpy!jack abbot who loses his shit over park trying to poach you back with sweet praises and making you blush because that's his sunshine nurse (wait what)
grumpy!jack abbot who tries to not lose his composure when you seem hell bent on solving his permanent scowl with your lame jokes and baked goods and gummy smile like its personally offending you
...grumpy!jack abbot who seems to be losing to chubby!sunshine!you on this mission of yours
again is this anything
more to come? should I write more?
tagging people who commented for more on the last post:
quick note: likely ooc, i do this for the hell of it, not to be accurate :p (not proofread)
contains: night shift attending! jack abbot, bar owner! reader, fem! reader, established relationship, implied age difference, kinda pervy! reader (you just want to jump his bones 24/7), lots of fluff, lazy sex bc why not.
summary: you had stayed at your bar ridiculously late after hours doing some housekeeping things. you blink and it's almost 8 a.m., meaning your boyfriend was likely leaving his shift at the hospital soon. you call him up and ask for a ride home.
word count: 2.5k+
your forehead was damp with sweat when you finally climb down from the bar counter after deep cleaning every surface visible to the naked eye. you saved the counter for last, wincing at all your dirty shoeprints before wiping them down with a new cloth. you scrub as hard as you can, working up even more of a sweat. once you finish, you finally head into the back and grab your bag. as you walk towards the front of your bar to lock the door, you pause.
your phone screen reads 7:57 a.m. holy shit, you just spent four hours cleaning your bar. you let out a groan, running a hand over your face. you loved owning this bar, it got great business being right in the heart of downtown pittsburgh. but, fuck, you got carried away so easily when it came to things like cleaning and re-decorating. your powered off neon signs seem to mock you as you glance around. not a speck of dust, but at what cost.
then, an idea pops into your head. your boyfriend, dr. (daddy) jack abbot, should be leaving the hospital soon. you pull your messages and hit the call button, holding your phone up to your ear. after one ring, he answers the phone.
"morning, handsome."
you smirk as you hold the phone in your hand, resting against the wall by the front door.
"what are you still doing awake, honey?"
you chuckle at the concern in his voice.
"i'm uh- still at the bar, actually."
"let me guess, another early morning of cleaning like a madwoman?"
"don't make fun of me."
you whine playfully, getting out your keys to lock the door.
"i was going to ask if you could come get me on your way home, but i guess you aren't interested so i'll just take myself."
you could practically hear him rolling his eyes on the other end as you spoke, having to stifle your own laughter. there's a beat of silence before some rustling is heard on the other end of the line.
"give me 20 and you better wait inside until you see me pull up."
"yes, sir."
you smirk, hanging up the call before he can have too much time to reflect on how much he liked hearing those words from your mouth.
20 minutes later, as promised, you watch jack's car appear in front of your bar. you step out, locking the door behind you. you double check by yanking on the handle before heading down the few steps to the sidewalk. you watch as your devastatingly handsome silver fox of a boyfriend steps out of his car. you walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders lazily.
he instantly returns the embrace, wrapping his own arms snugly around your waist. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, smoothing a hand over your back.
"missed you, pretty girl."
he mumbles against your cheek before pulling you into a gentle kiss. you blush profusely, just like you always did even when you and jack were first going out on dates. he never got tired of seeing you get flustered at the slightest hint of affection from him.
"I'm fucking exhausted."
you groan, causing him to chuckle as he walks you over to the passenger side. he opens the door for you, waiting to shut it until your seatbelt is fully buckled. he places your bag next to his in the backseat before climbing back into the driver's seat. he looks over at you, admiring the way your features were softer than usual since you were so tired.
he rests a large, warm hand on your thigh as he pulls back onto the road and heads toward his place. you had been staying with him recently, since he lived a lot closer to the bar. definitely not because you wanted to bang him right before he went to work and right when he got back... never that. you're already plotting how to make the most out of this situation when you two made it home.
sure, you both were exhausted, but that's never stopped you before. as if sensing your internal excitement, jack's gaze flickers over toward you momentarily. he already knew what he was getting himself into by picking you up from your bar. he could tell when you were in the mood before you could half the time. it was evident in the way your thighs instinctively clenched together while you sat, your restless hand unintentionally squeezing then releasing his own.
once you two make it inside, you don't even let jack step a foot out of his entryway before you're slamming your lips against his. he meets your kiss with a surprised groan. he melts instantly, hands already resting on your waist and giving it a gentle squeeze. he wasn't young anymore, his leg already aching as you arched your back into him.
you took the hint, pulling away and leading him back toward the bedroom. you gently help him sit down on the bed before dropping to your knees in front of him. shit, if he weren't used to you and your insatiable sex drive he probably would have passed out by now. you undo the drawstring of his scrub pants and slide them down his legs. then you gently help him remove his prosthetic, eyes never leaving his the entire time. only his gorgeous girl could make something so inconvenient (to him) feel so sexy.
you rest it against the nightstand on the other side of his crutches. turning back to him, your hands travel up his muscular thighs, mouth watering at the sight of the generous bulge forming in his boxers. before you can do anything, his hands are under your arms and already hauling you up toward him.
"i know somewhere else that needs your mouth more."
he smirks as he helps you straddle him.
"like where?"
you chuckle, breath hitching when he pulls you into a heated kiss. his tongue invades your mouth, needing to taste you. he couldn't get enough of your lips and tongue, making him feel like he had this sort of reverse oral fixation. he could make out with you for hours, especially when he knew that it got you worked up rather quickly. at this point, you're already moaning shamelessly into his mouth and grinding against his lap.
you made him feel wanted when you were like this. unable to keep your hands or your mouth to yourself when you were around him. he never said anything directly about it, afraid you would subconsciously stop doing it as much. he'd tell you about his day and you'd be curled up in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to his cheek and jawline as he spoke. he tried to do the same himself, making sure his hands were on you in some way, shape, or form whenever you were close enough.
his hands travel down to your ass as you grind against him, squeezing and kneading the soft skin.
"atta girl, show me what you want."
he spoke gruffly in your ear, which encouraged your hips to grind against him with more intention. you could feel his prominent bulge rubbing right against your sensitive clit, even through your pants and underwear. he had a way of making every little spark of pleasure double in intensity, and you were helpless against it. he unbuttons your shirt, sliding it over your shoulders as he places open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of your neck.
you tilt your head back to give him better access, which he takes full advantage of. he leans down enough to place soft kisses around the swell of your breasts before gently removing your bra. something about seeing his big hands take each of your tits into his hands had you ready to come right then and there. he lets out a low moan while groping you, the contrast of his rough palms against your sensitive nipples had you both shivering.
"any chance you want to take care of the old guy today?"
you knew what he meant, and didn't have to be asked twice. you climbed off his lap, removing your own pants as jack finally takes off his shirt. you go to straddles his hips, but strong hands hold you in place.
"wrong spot, honey."
you let out a bashful chuckle as you move closer toward his head. he helps you settle each of your thighs on either side of his face. he doesn't even let you try to hover before he's yanking all of your weight down on his face. his tongue greedily laps at the juices pooling between your thighs, swirling it around your clit just the way you liked. your head falls back as loud whines escape your lips.
"f-fuck, jack... it's so much."
"you can take it, honey."
before long, you're grinding on his face. the way his nose was nuzzled against your aching clit had you reeling. he was always intentional with that, remembering what you'd told him... something about doja cat talking about big noses. it took him a hundred of your explanations to understand, but since then, he's never gone down on you the same. he can sense your needy pussy clenching around nothing as you get closer to the edge. he reaches up, guiding your hips as you grind against his face. within seconds, you're trembling and gushing all over his lips and chin.
he's sucking up every last drop of you to the point where you're beginning to whimper from the overstimulation. eventually, he releases you and you shakily move off of him. he turns toward you, pulling you into his arms and kissing you softly. you welcome his curious tongue into your mouth, tasting your essence on him. his hands are rubbing all over your body, when a sudden idea pops in his head.
the look in his eyes made you ache with need, the way he seemed to be all-consumed by your presence in his arms. it was a dream come true to constantly be this man's center of attention. he noticed that you looked a bit more tired than usual, so his idea was to fuck you... laying just like this.
"let me see you, pretty girl."
he gently scoops his hand under your knee, lifting it up and presenting your dripping wet cunt to him. he watched the need double in your gaze as you whimpered at the sudden rush of cool air. he couldn't get enough of seeing you like this, all wide open and ready for him. he yanks his boxers down, freeing his incredibly hard cock from its confines. you drool at the sight, the red and angry tip practically begging for your attention.
he gently glides his length against your wet folds, hissing in pleasure as he fights not to explode all over you. you twitch slightly, still trying to come down from having your soul sucked out of you just a minute before. he gently pushes himself in, moaning at the way your pussy hugged him just right. pliable enough to know that he'd prepped you well, but tight enough to cause him to lose focus for a moment.
"so how do we move?"
your voice trembles as you speak, a ragged moan coming out as he manages to bottom out inside you in this new position.
"move your hips just like you did on my face."
you blush again, the way he spoke so shamelessly about the naughty things you two do together, it really got to you. you start to rock your hips back and forth. the new angle felt magical, jack's hands pressed against your ass to help guide your movements. half the work, but double the pleasure. fuck, he was a genius. his hand rubs your thigh for encouragement as he readjusts your knee to rest on his hip bone.
"there you go, honey. such a smart girl."
"that sounded sarcastic..."
"nothing to be sarcastic about when you take my cock like it was made for you."
holy hell, you were clenching so tight around him as he spoke to you. he knew how much his words affected you, but this one took the cake. you start to move your hips with more enthusiasm, moaning as you rest your forehead against his. he pulls you in impossibly closer, holding you in place while he ruts his hips against you. the sudden force behind his thrusts has you digging your nails into his shoulders.
the combination of the sharp pinch from your nails and the way he felt your pussy fluttering around his cock was about to be his undoing. he speeds up his thrusts, feeling all of the joints in his lower body groan in protest but he couldn't be bothered to care. he had you falling apart around him, moaning out his name in that gorgeous voice of yours.
"come on, baby. keep taking it."
he grunts against your skin, now dragging your hips to meet his every thrust. the lewd sound of slapping skin echoes throughout the room, mingled with both of your moans.
"j-jack, i'm so close."
you whine, your hands still gripping onto him for dear life.
"what do you need, honey?"
"just don't- don't fucking stop please."
he obliged, keeping the steady pace of his thrusts as he felt you getting closer and closer to the edge. he muttered sweet praises in your ear as your moans got higher and raspier, the way they always did when you were about to come hard.
"where do you want it, baby?"
he grunts, feeling himself about half a second away from blowing his load inside of you.
"inside, please. i want to feel all of it."
"naughty fucking girl, you always want it inside don't you?"
"yes- fuck- always."
just then, your entire body shook with the force of your orgasm, causing jack to crumble right after you. he buried himself deep in your spasming cunt with a loud groan, his undeniably big load spilling inside you as he held you close. you bury your face in the crook of his neck, slightly embarrassed from how loud you could get when you came.
"prettiest sounds i'll ever get to hear."
he reassures you, knowing how easily embarrassed you got. post-nut clarity always seemed to hit you pretty hard, but jack was always there to soothe you through it. he eases himself out of you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before sitting up and reaching for his crutches.
"jack, i can get it."
"don't patronize me, woman. i made a mess of you, so i'll clean you up."
you chuckle at his mock stern tone as he makes his way to the bathroom, unable to ignore the way his ass jiggled. that mole was absoultely mesmerizing. jack scoffs, feeling the way your gaze burned holes right into his round cheeks. you weren't shameless about many things, but his ass, you could watch it move all day and night long.
a/n: HOLY MOLY THIS ONE HAD ME FLUSTERED. also.. if you don't know what kinda position they're pulling... look up face-to-face position... yeah. ANYWHO, thank you all so so much for reading!!!! LOVE YOU ALL SM AND STAY SEXAAAYYY!!!! <333
divider creds: @/saradika-graphics and @/uzmacchiato
summary: in which jack blames you for his own mistake
warnings: angst, bad writing, zero knowledge on medical terms, not proofread
You stared at your sad reflection in the mirror, feeling stupid about having spent over two hours trying to make yourself look as good as possible for a certain attendant. The very same who thirty minutes ago sent you one single text. Mind you, he had been already two hours late to pick you up.
‘Can’t make it.’
You had stared at your phone for a good twenty minutes after that, part of you hoping he’d text you again saying that wasn’t directed to you or that he had changed his mind. The next five minutes were spent wondering if you should try calling him or saying something. But you already felt embarrassed by being stoop up. You allowed yourself to feel embarrassed until you were out of your nicest clothes and rid of your make up. My own fault for mixing work with pleasure. As your act of rebellion, you decided to indeed take out your phone and dial.
“Hey, Y/N.” Robby’s voice was nonchalant but laced with a bit of concern. “How’s it going?”
“Hey, Robby. Sorry for the late call, I was wondering if you still need me to cover for Mohan?”
“Oh, yeah. Still yours if you want it. Abbot knows about your decision?” Robby asked, voice sounding a little more relaxed.
“He knows from you, didn’t object.” You simply said, hoping that newly consuming bitterness wasn’t showing. “And Robby… remember those two days of PTO I had left? I need to take them and after, I’ll see you during the day. Is that okay?” Putting the cards on the table or peer-pressure. You just hoped he wouldn’t deny them.
“Well, it’s a little rushed…” Robby sighed. “Yeah, sure. Take the days but I’ll see you in three days, seven sharp.”
“Thank you, boss.” You said, feeling a little better. With a chuckle, Robby hung up and you threw your phone on the couch with the intent of leaving it there. It’s not like Jack was going to contact you after standing you up.
•
Three days later…
You were getting ready for your shift. It was a little late but you felt nervous. You felt like everyone knew why you changed shifts even though no one knew about you and Jack having getting to know each other better after your shifts. Well, the term ‘getting to know each other better’ wasn’t the best one to use. After all, he had shown you a side of him that you thought was real. It was ironic really, he had started everything. First move, first date. It had been his idea to start something with you even when you told him it wasn’t a good idea dating as coworkers. But you had known him as a man of his word, a man of action. So if he had stood you up, that had also been planned.
Twenty minutes later, you were parking and rushing inside PTMC, cutting it close by two minutes after Robby told you to be at seven sharp. You dumped everything inside your locker and rushed to the chaos that was the ED, looking for the tall, bearded man. And to your bad luck he was talking to Abbot. You tried to get only Robby’s attention and you did but as soon as Abbot started turning around, you ducked and went the opposite direction, being grateful that Ellis was nearby. You decided to receive patients from her, getting in the work mindset. You were not going to allow a man to get in the way of your career, something you had fought for very hard.
Ellis questioned you about the change and you simply told her you needed the brief change and promised to go back to the night shift once Mohan was back. Yeah, that was the lie you were going with because even though your decision was based on how humiliated Jack had made you feel, you only allowed yourself the two off days to have a self pity fest and today it was back to normal, back to being professional while hoping the distance would help you until it was time to work alongside him again.
New page.
Once Ellis was gone, you started discharging her patients. Doing rounds with the ever sulking Santos, her need for adrenaline was obvious. “It’s not like I want people to be hurt but I need to learn, right?”
“Right and I understand.” You said, writing on your chart the best plan of action for a construction worker that had asthma. “I was a bit like you in my early days. You want to eat up everything but when the bill comes, you realize you need to slow down a bit…” Santos made a face. “Yeah, I know. I sound old but believe me, what you want to learn will come to you, and it will catch you more often than not unprepared no matter how ready you think you are. Give everything a chance… and be a sweetheart, take this to Mr. Yang and explain it to him.” Santos groaned, a hidden smile on her face as she went to the patient in room nine.
“Y/N?”
You heard Jack’s voice from behind you, not aware that he had been close by, listening to your words to Santos. You thought he had left already, it was well an hour after his shift ended.
You had just turned around to face him when the ambulance bay doors opened and in came a patient with a lot of blood coming from one of his legs.
“Duty calls.” You said, hoping to sound normal and slipped past him to trauma bay three. Jack saw you start working, all the professionalism he had fallen for. Assessing the patient alongside Whitaker and a beaming Santos.
“Don’t even think about it.” Dana said from behind him.
“What?” He asked innocently.
“You know exactly what.” Dana grabbed him by his arm and made him walk with her to the lockers. “Your shift is over, they always manage without you… So will she, she’ll do without you.”
“Dana…” Yeah, Dana knew about his feelings towards you, she had also been the reason why he felt the need to push you away.
“It was your decision, Abbot. You could have avoided it but you allowed yourself to get stuck in your head.” Dana was right. It was his fault, his guilt and now it was too late. “Go home, rest and I’ll see you tonight.” She said, leaving him by the lockers, a throbbing headache not letting up after all the thinking he had done.
•
“You think Garcia will be able to save his leg?” Santos asked you, feeling a bit nauseous from the wounds on both the trauma patient that had arrived earlier.
“Probably only the right one.” You were honest with her, the left leg having been crushed. The patient was lucky to be alive after the accident.
“Oh, you should’ve been here yesterday. Dr. Abbot got here with his SWAT team, he had intubated while getting shot at and then he was just here donating blood while working on his buddy. It was badass, Garcia had to operate here or else he would’ve died. Well, I believe he would’ve died if it hadn’t been for Dr. Abbot…” You tried to zone out the rest of the fangirling. Focusing on charting and offering the occasional ‘huh’, you tried avoiding the thump from your heart. Yeah, Jack was great, he was a great physician both in SWAT and in the Pitt.
“Y/N, sweetie, patient in room one…”
“On it.” You hollered at Dana and got up, making Santos stop talking and follow you. “Hello, Mr. Smith. I’m Dr. L/N and this is Dr. Santos, we’ll be with you today, is that okay?”
“Yes, thank you. I saw Dr. Abbot last night and he told me to come back if the pain came back and it has…” You listened intently, all your attention on the patient and you were relieved when his pain wasn’t something he needed a room upstairs or the OR. You were also glad to send him home feeling way better after he almost talked your ear off about how professional Jack been with him while sharing anecdotes from their individual deployments.
You were focused, no doubt about that. And still, all day long the ghost of Jack lingered in the ED. If it wasn’t Santos fangirling, it was patients praising him or a number of nurses crushing on him, having no filter for the things he made them feel. You knew this was bound to happen. Jack had that effect on every single person he was nearby. And he deserved it. He was great. You were just a fluke. The exception to the rule. That didn’t make him a bad person. You just wondered what you did to have him get close to you if he had no intention of staying. Especially after you told him it was better to not start something romantically.
“She was a distraction.” You heard Abbot’s voice in the ambulance bay. You almost went back inside, having ten minutes left to your shift but needing a breather from all the emotions of the day. “If it hadn’t been for her, I wouldn’t have forgotten about my late wife’s anniversary.”
“That’s not Y/N’s fault.”
“I know that! But I was so distracted by her that I completely missed the date. If you hadn’t asked me about it, I wouldn’t have remembered still. Ten years I’ve been faithful to my wife, going to her grave, staying with her and then Y/N shows up and messes everything up!” Jack was exasperated because he was angry with himself. And he regretted the words as soon as they come out. To make matters worse, at the same time he spun around and saw you standing by the bay’s doors.
You had choked on your breath, feeling dizzy all of the sudden. At Jack’s livid face, knowing he was blaming whatever was going on with him on you.
Dana pushed past him, muttering a faint asshole his way as she made her way to you, dragging you back inside the ED. “I’ve never been this mad at him but don’t listen to him. He has to deal with his demons.” She whispered in your ears. Your ringing ears. She made sure to direction you straight to the lockers, ignoring Robby’s order to talk to him before you left.
The day shift attending taken aback by Dana’s expression and your watery eyes. He connected the dots when Abbot hurried inside, face red and explosive. Robby stopped him before he followed Dana’s and yours steps. “What did you do?” He grabbed Jack’s arm.
“Not now, Robby.” Jack ignored him and tried pushing past him but the older man didn’t let up.
“Yes, now.” His voice was authoritative, even Jack knew not to mess with him. “Stairs.” Robby made sure Jack didn’t deter and followed behind until they reach the staff stairs. “Talk.”
“I asked Y/N out a day after my wife’s anniversary.” Robby’s eyes softened a little.
“That’s not a bad thing.”
“No, it was bad when the day of the date, Dana asked me about it, made me realize I had missed her anniversary altogether…” Jack exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly feeling his eyes water. “I blamed it on Y/N and she heard.”
“Was that why Dana was taking her to the lockers?” Jack nodded, ashamed of everything he had felt and said, but most importantly for hurting you for something you had no fault in. “Jesus, brother.” Robby paced around. “You monumental asshole. Why would you blame her? She has nothing to do with this.”
“She distracted me. I forgot about my wife’s anniversary because I got too close.” The words that were coming out of Jack had him kicking himself again. Why was he still blaming you? “I never wanted to replace her and it feels like I have.” Jack whispered, wiping a tear from his eye.
“You didn’t,” Robby told him. “You were allowing yourself to be happy again and you know that’s what she wanted for you.”
“But I forgot about her.” Jack breathed out, leaning against the wall behind him.
“She’ll always be with you. You know that and it’s okay to feel the way you do but what isn’t okay is to blame Y/N for bringing your happy side out again. Your romantic and hopeful side out again. I was too having hope when I saw your eyes linger on her. When you didn’t feel the need to climb up to the roof as much because instead you were charting next to her. Or when you weren’t putting yourself at risk by joining SWAT everyday and coming in here with bullets stuck on you. I understand you are scared but do you really want to lose a great thing?”
You were great indeed. Somehow Jack had fallen for you, slowly then all at once. Even though it was public knowledge in the Pitt that he had a late wife, you were always respectful when the topic came up and it was true, you never tried to replace her. He knew you. He knew that if you had known about her anniversary, you would have given his space to be with her.
Fuck, he was pretty sure the damage he had done was permanent.
Not only had he tried to blame it on you, he had said it aloud and you heard him.
“I need to talk to Y/N.”
“No.” That didn’t come from Robby, but from Dana, closing the stairs door behind her. “Make an appointment with your therapist. Talk to them about it. Grieve and really think about what you want. This is deeper than standing her up. Is it true that she told you it wasn’t a good idea to get involved?” Jack simply nodded, feeling so stupid and defeated. “And you hurt her by blaming her instead? By making her like you back and making her think she got a shot with you. God, Abbot, you are better than this.”
“I’ll fix this, Dana, I’ll do what you say and I’ll fix it with Y/N.”
“And for fuck’s sake, don’t blow this again.” Robby added. “You know people like Y/N don’t come very often.”
•
Two months later…
The pain has subsided considerably. You were grateful you didn’t let Jack’s words consume you. You knew whatever he went through wasn’t your fault. But he had hurt you. All those years of working together and the months you had spent together, falling for him, that’s what hurt. Never mind, having to put on a brave face and working while he was praised was harder. Because you knew he was a great person, maybe not a great lover but you were mature enough to separate that.
You knew he was still working in the ED but you hadn’t seen him as much. Maybe briefly, his back to you, knowing it was him from his pepper and salt hair but nothing more. Sometimes arriving a little later and leaving earlier in the morning, Robby filling for him.
But you were calm about it.
The morning after he had said those things about you, you found a neatly folded letter in your locker with a tiny flower taped on it. Probably taken from the park in front of the PTMC. You didn’t read it during your shift but it had you a bit distracted until you got home and read it.
Dear Y/N:
I apologize for what you heard me say. For thinking it, for feeling it, for saying it. I will work on it because there are a lot of things going inside my head right now and I don’t want to say the wrong thing again.
What I can say for now is that what I feel for you is very much real but I will give you space.
I already made an appointment with my therapist because I know that this is all me. It’s not you and it’s not her. And I don’t want to lose you too. Because you have given me hope again. You have made me so happy and sadly, I didn’t realize it until I lost you. Almost lost you? I wouldn’t blame you if you decided not to talk to me ever again but know that I’ll work on it and apologize again. You deserve a proper apology. I was very wrong. I hurt you and even though it wasn’t my intention, I still did it. You don’t deserve me hurting you and I promise, I’ll make it up to you.
For now, I’ll give you space while I work on it in therapy.
I will miss you but one thing is for sure, my feelings for you will always be there. Those were never a distraction. I don’t know how you managed it but you slipped through every crack in myself, like you belonged there…
Look at me rambling. I’ll stop for now but know that I’m always thinking of you and working on my demons.
Yours truly, Jack.
You cried that night. For you, for him. For what could’ve been. For what could be still. Because you had fallen for him. But you accepted his space. And as much as you missed him, you let him come to you when he was ready. That way you didn’t pressure yourself and trusted his word.
You were brought back to present day by a commotion on trauma bay one. You saw Robby push through people and helped Langdon take on a man. A man that had been receiving help from Jack. You thought he had been off his shift already and not still working on a patient. You saw Santos approach Jack and inspect his back. You didn’t even realize your feet were carrying you in his direction until you and Santos were helping him to another room.
Jack was cursing softly under his breath as you assessed his injury. The one made by the patient taking a scalpel from the tray and striking Jack as he checked the man’s injuries. You were working on autopilot now. Carefully, you uncovered Jack broad back, Santos helping you remove his undershirt and apologizing to Jack when he hissed as the fabric grazed the tender and bleeding spot. “Santos, get me the material for a suture.” The girl complied immediately and left you and Jack alone. “Was the scalpel one of ours?” You asked him, hoping it was because that meant it was sterile. Still you would have a blood panel done on him.
Jack nodded. “I’m okay, Y/N. A little deep but I’ll live.” He tried joking with you but once you were in doctor mode, there was nothing changing your mind. You ignored him, focused on the four or five inch gash near his right shoulder. Not only was it long but it was also around half an inch deep. You took gauzes from the supply cart and kept pressure with them on his injury until Santos was back with the necessary material.
“I’m here.” Santos said, placing the tray next to Jack and making way to grab globes to help you but Jack stopped her.
“Hey, Santos, I bet Shen has a patient with a GSW on trauma four. Get it before Whitaker beats you to it.” Santos looked at you, hopeful but still mindful that you might need help.
“Go, I got this.” You relented and started taking the material you needed to stitch him up, after removing the gauze and seeing it wasn’t as deep as it had looked. “I’ll start cleaning your wound with saline, the bleeding seems to have stopped and you’ll need stitching.” You told him, not waiting for his consent because you knew he’d agree with the plan.
You started working on him, mindful that he was hurting a lot by the tensing of his muscles any time your hands touched his skin around the injury. You had apologized but he kept telling you he was fine.
You were halfway done with the stitching when he spoke again. “You weren’t a distraction—“
“I’ll talk.” You interrupted him. “My intention was never to replace your wife. I respect you and I respect what you lived with her. This wasn’t about choosing between me or her. She’ll always be a part of you and I have always admired your respect for her whenever she was talked about. I won’t be a punchbag for whenever you feel a certain way. I’ll care for you and stand with you but you need to make sure that you are ready for me. Because I won’t let you disrespect me again. Just like I don’t want to replace her, I don’t want you to replace her with me either. And you need to be sure you want me. Take as much time as you need to see if I’m the one you want to be with.”
Without another word, you finished patching him up. He wanted to tell you that he didn’t need any more time. He knew he wanted to be with you. He hadn’t feel this… good with anything else. You made him feel… alive again. Didn’t feel the need to be distracted by the ED or SWAT. The fact that he had stopped going up to the roof should’ve been indication enough.
Jack fought the urge to stop you when you took your leave from his room. If he said anything at that very second, you may not believe him. He also didn’t want to talk to you during your shift or right after suffering an injury.
So he waited. Not long because he didn’t want you to slip through his fingers. But he didn’t interrupt you through your shift. Instead, he begged Dana to help him. Asked her to make sure you left after your shift and to make sure you were going straight home. Which you did.
You felt your feet dragging as you walked to your door. And you found Jack waiting for you. One hand holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers and the other carrying takeout from your favorite restaurant.
(When Robby and Shen drop off Abbot at his home after a guys night out, Jack is wary of the woman who is supposedly his wife.)
I’m married, don’t touch me! (Drunk! Jack Abbot x Reader)
(Warnings: Drunk Jack, mention of sex, Jack being a lil mean, but he doesn’t mean it)
(This is my 800 follower fanfic celebration! Thank you to everyone who has gotten me to this point and who has been a reader. I appreciate all of you and I am so glad to be supported as a writer. Here’s to 800!)
———————————————————————————
“It’ll only be a couple drinks. I am not gonna get shit faced.” Jack promised, kissing your forehead as he adjusted his shirt.
Jack Abbot’s famous last words.
It wasn’t like you had a problem with him drinking, it was rare and far between when he went out drinking with Shen and Robby. But when he did? He tended to get shit faced. You could say Jack got a little competitive when it came to drinking with the boys.
Like last time he went out with Robby Shen, and surprisingly Park, you had to get Robby’s fiancé to help you get Abbot out of the back seat after he decided to go dead weight and sang ‘Pocket full of sunshine’ the entire time.
“Jesus he is heavy!” Gracie had whined as she took his legs, while you had hooked your arms under his shoulders.
“Yea he’s heavy. He’s a fucking monster at the gym! Isn’t that right big boy?” Shen called out, leaning half way out the window.
“SHUT UP I AM SERENADING MY WIFE!” Jack called out, “I need to court her.”
“Jack for the last time, we are married.” You said with a sigh as you and Gracie lugged him up the porch.
“Oh.” Jack said, “Does that mean we’ll have sex?”
You sighed, “No Jackie. No sex. You are very drunk.”
“JACK I’LL FUCK YOU!” Robby called out.
“MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH!” Gracie snapped, “ROLL UP YOUR WINDOW.”
Robby whimpered and rolled up his window. Gracie rolled her eyes as you and her finally got Jack inside.
“You are a huge help. Thank you.” You said, getting Jack settled on the couch.
“Yea, no problem. You have helped me with Robby plenty of times.” Gracie assured, “Anyway, I gotta get back out to the car. Michael might have started crying or doing that the thing where he fake cries.”
“Bye Gracie, I’ll see you this week for brunch!” You called out as Gracie left.
You turned to say something to Jack but he was already fast asleep on the couch. So you took off his prosthetic and made sure he was nice and comfortable on the couch.
That incident had been over a year ago.
“Just please get out of the car this time.” You begged, “You go dead weight on me and it is impossible to get you to the house.”
“I won’t I promise.” He said, gently giving you a peck on your lips, “I will be good tonight.”
“Famous last words of Jack Wayne Abbot.” You muttered and he wrapped his arms around you.
“Oooh picking a fight?” He cooed, nipping at your neck, “You are asking for trouble”
Just as you were about let Jack get into your pants, his ride honked from outside.
Jack sighed into your neck, “And that is my cue.”
“Be safe tonight.” You said as he pulled away, moving to put on his cologne.
“I will. I promise. And I will make smart choices tonight.” He assured you, putting on the silver chain you had got him.
Soon you bid a goodbye to your husband as he went to his uber, watching him drive off to his boys night out.
God for once in your life, you really hoped Jack wouldn’t be shit faced when he got home.
———————————————————————————
It was around 2 a.m. when Gracie had texted you that they were on their way to drop Jack off.
From Gracie
‘Hey, on our way home. We stopped by Taco Bell. Got you what you usually get. Fair warning, Jack is tipsy, not fully drunk.’
You sighed to yourself and shot Gracie a text back,
To Gracie
‘Thank you so much. Remind me to give you cash when you get here.’
From Gracie
‘Don’t worry about it. Jack gave me a fifty.’
You chuckled to yourself and shut off the tv. You had on one of Jack’s old hoodie and sweats and your hair was pulled back.
Not long, Gracie’s jeep pulled up and she got out of the car, holding two Taco Bell bags.
“Can he walk?” You asked, meeting her to get the bags.
“Oh yea, he can. He’s bubbly and content.” Gracie explained as Jack climbed out of the car.
“Michael you matter and Shen so do you!” Jack promised as he stumbled out of the car. He was giggling about something when his eyes found you. Normally, Jack would light up and come paw at you to hug you and get affection.
Normally.
But currently, he was staring at you like he was confused.
“Grace, that ain’t my wife.” Jack said, pointing at you, “I know my wife. This is not my wife.”
“Jack, that is your wife.” Gracie assured, nudging him closer.
“I don’t know her.” Jack warned. “Can I stay with you and Mikey?”
“JACK STAY THE NIGHT!” Michael whined, hanging out the window, “I CAN BE YOUR WIFE!”
“MICHAEL STRAUSSER SPEER ROBINAVITCH, GET BACK IN THE CAR!” Gracie snapped, causing Michael to start fake crying while John dragged him back into the car.
Jack was still glaring at you during all of this.
“Jack, your wife is inside.” You said with a sigh and Jack lit up.
“Baby! I’m coming!” Jack called out, heading up the porch. He immediately smacked into the glass door, causing you and Gracie to wince.
“You got him?” Gracie asked and you sighed, nodding.
“Yea, I got him. He’ll remember who I am.” You said, “I’ll see you later.”
“Are you sure?” Gracie asked, watching Jack struggle with the door.
“I can always get Sammy and Sydney from next door, they are still awake.” You said, “We’ll be okay.”
“If you say so, I’ll see you later! Bye!” Gracie called out, heading back to the car.
You turn around to check on Jack and he was wandering around inside, clearly looking for you. You let out a sigh and head back into the house. “Jackie?” You called out in the sweet voice he loved.
He turned to look at you, clearly confused. “Are you a friend of my wife?”
You swallow your sarcastic remark and nod, “Yes, I am.” You assured, “She asked me to help you get undressed.”
“No.” Jack said, covering himself like he was exposed, “You can’t touch my tits.”
You had to stifle your laugh because Jack was dead serious. “Jack, I won’t touch your tits, however, I need to get you out of your prosthetic. Isn’t it uncomfortable?”
Jack nodded, sheepishly, “Yea, it is. But my wife is gonna be mad if you touch me like that.”
“Jack guess what?” You said, “I am your wife.”
“No. You aren’t my wife.” Jack said, pointing to the giant portrait that was from you and Jack on your wedding day, “That’s my wife. Isn’t she pretty? You gotta say she’s pretty, because she is my rock.”
“She is very pretty.” You assured, “I see why you married her.”
Jack was staring at your wedding photo, “She will never know how much I love her.”
“Why don’t you tell me how much you love her while we go take off your leg, okay?” You promised and he nodded.
“Are you gonna tell her about us?” He whispered, “She can’t know about us.”
“Jack, this isn’t cheating.” You assured, “I haven’t even touched you.”
Jack nodded and he headed to the bedroom, still looking for his wife.
While he got situated in the bedroom, you night timed the house and grabbed the Taco Bell. You headed back into the bedroom where Jack was shirtless and somehow his pants were gone and he was trying to get on your pink shorts. The two of you stared at each other while Jack tugged at your shorts.
“Stop looking at my tits.” Jack snapped, “I have eyes you know.”
“Jack. I am not staring at your tits.” You said, “I am trying to understand why you are trying to put on those shorts.”
That was the stick that broke the camel’s back, “I MISS MY WIFE!” Jack sobbed, “And these? They smell like her Coco Chanel perfume and I-I..” He started to hiccup, “I want my wife and I can’t find her!”
“I know Jackie, I am sorry your wife isn’t here.” You said, “Why don’t we get you ready for bed?”
“No! She knows my routine!” He sobbed, “I don’t want you to touch me! She is gonna think I’m cheating on her!”
“She will not, but I know she will be very displeased you rip her pink shorts.” You said with a sigh, “She told me your routine and I can help you get into it, okay? And I will not stare at your boobs.”
Jack slowly nodded, “Okay. And they are called tits, not boobs. I am classy.” He stated, “Apologize to them.”
“Apologize to your tits?” You asked, clearly confused.
“Yes and look them in the nipple.” He said, clearly taking the matter serious.
You sighed and looked directly at his nipples, “I am sorry for calling you boobs.”
“Thank you.” He said, “Did I tell you my wife has great tits?” He asked.
You look up at him and softly smile, “No you have not, but why don’t you tell about them while I take off your leg?”
That’s when Jack goes into the longest rant about how perfect your tits were while you carefully took care of him. He went on about how perfect they fit into his hand and how he loved holding them like he was your own personal bra. Meanwhile, you just nodded along. You had finally gotten the pink shorts away from him and got him his crutches. He happily took them, “You can go now, thank you.”
You jokingly rolled your eyes, “Okay if you say so. I left your Taco Bell on your dresser.” You said, “Goodnight Jack. I love you.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t reciprocate. I love fucking my wife.” Jack stated and headed to the bathroom. He paused and turned around, “But I do love my wife for the record.”
“I bet she knows that.” You whispered and headed to the spare bedroom with your Taco Bell and plans to watch The Other Bennett sister.
———————————————————————————
It was 5 a.m. when Jack woke up.
He assumed it was because you had gone to the bathroom, but when he sat up your side of the bed was made. Rain pattered against the window as he tried to make sense of this entire situation.
“What the fuck?” He mumbled, looking toward the bathroom.
Empty.
He looked around, trying to gather information about why you weren’t in bed with him and why he had his fists curled tight around your favorite pink shorts. All he saw was his Taco Bell bag and his chain sitting on the bedside table.
“Babe?” He called out, and yet he got no call back.
He sighed and sat up a little more, “Baby girl?” He said, trying not to shout.
Soon you padded in, clearly woken from sleep, “What?”
“Where were you sleeping?” He asked, clearly confused.
“The spare bedroom, I got kicked out last night.” You said, “I was not your wife last night.”
“What?” He asked, confused, “Did I? I’m sorry.” He said, clearly upset.
“Baby, I ain’t mad.” You said, coming over to get in your side of the bed, “You did a lot of silly things last night.”
“Yea? Tell me.”He said, pulling you closer and nuzzling into your neck.
“Well first, you almost didn’t get in the house. You were insistent you didn’t know me. Then you tripped into the door.” You explained.
He pressed soft kisses into your neck as you explained the events from last night, almost like the kisses could fix everything that had happened last night. He couldn’t help but laugh when you explained the nipple thing.
“Jesus, I am so sorry.” He said, moving to kiss your lips, “I am truly sorry.”
“Jackie, I forgive you. I’m just glad you made it home.” You mumbled, snuggling into him.
“Me too.” He whispered, soon falling back asleep.
———————————————————————————
The next time you and Abbot headed to work, word had gotten around about Jack’s drunk antics.
“Oh glad you remembered her.” Robby said as you and Abbot walked in, holding hands.
“Oh shut up, I apologized to her plenty.” Abbot said simply, letting your hand go so he can take off his backpack.
Indeed Jack Abbot had, he had eaten you out causing you to orgasm more times you could count and had treated you to a new Cartier jewelry set plus a new yeti bag for work with matching tumbler.
“What is this about forgetting wives?” Dana asked, walking over to be nosey.
Before you could defend your husband, Shen came over sipping his coffee.
“Dr. Jack Abbot here got tipsy and refused to believe his wife was his wife.” Shen said, sipping his coffee.
“John I am still your boss.” Abbot warned, “But yes, I didn’t comprehend she was my wife so I got a little sassy with her. It’s fine, we made it okay.”
“Yes we did.” You promised.
“He made her sleep in the spare bedroom.” Robby said with a smirk, “Cold.”
“Gracie made you sleep on the couch and also called you by your full government name Micheal.” Jack said with a bit of bite in his voice.
“Yea well I made it up to her.” Michael stated.
It was too late for Jack though, Dana and Lena started smacking him with clipboards.
“Hey Hey! He is forgiven!” You said, “We are good!”
While Dana stopped, Lena got in one final hit.
“You are too good for him. I have been saying that since you two first started dating.” Lena said and Abbot scoffed.
“I am a great husband.” Abbot stated, “You just don’t agree with my doctor techniques.”
“Ding Ding Ding.” Lena said, going to get report.
Abbot rolled his eyes and squeezed your hip, “See you at rounds.” He whispered.
You nodded and moved to get report from the dayshift CMA team.
Unfortunately no one let Abbot live down that he couldn’t recognize his wife, even when he was tipsy the entire shift. Hell, it had even spread to different departments. But he didn’t care. He was just grateful you took it lightly and went along with it. And because of that? He would spend every second of his days appreciating the life you had shared with him. For that, he was forever grateful.
pope cody x reader | part two of the librarian | mdni
—
pope wasn’t listening to a single word that darren and craig were saying.
not that it wasn’t an unusual occurrence for pope to partake in.
darren had been talking for the last ten minutes straight while they walked down the sidewalk near the beach. they had just gotten back from surfing, beers in a bag resting in their hands, sunglasses shoved up to mask the beaming california sun.
something about a guy he knew.
or maybe about the bar.
maybe about a guy who works at the bar.
pope honestly didn’t care.
because halfway past a small coffee shop on the corner, he glanced through the window and stopped in his tracks.
craig and darren took a few more steps before realizing. “what?” craig said, looking around them suspiciously.
pope didn’t answer.
he was staring inside.
and there she was.
sitting by the window with another girl across from her, sunlight pouring over her shoulders in a soft golden blanket. an iced coffee in her ring clad hand.
she was laughing.
really laughing.
her was head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut for a second like she’d forgotten anyone else around her.
god.
pope felt something shift violently in his chest like a mish—mosh of butterflies.
because he’d seen her smile before. those small friendly ones she’d give him when he’d walked in the library.
she looked so soft sitting there by the window that for a second she almost didn’t feel real.
darren followed his line of sight.
“…oh.”
pope stayed quiet.
“what?!” craig said said, voice louder.
inside the café, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear while listening to her friend talk, smiling as she sucked on the straw.
completely unaware she was being watched.
“that her?” darren asked carefully.
pope nodded once.
“who?” craig craned his neck to see where his brothers were looking.
darren looked back at the window. “damn.”
pope’s jaw tightened slightly. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
“nothing,” darren said immediately. “just—”
he glanced at pope.
then back at her.
“she’s kinda the opposite of you, huh?”
crag threw his hands up in annoyance as his brothers continued to stand still.
pope didn’t answer.
because yeah.
she was.
she looked warm in every way he wasn’t. gentle. approachable. the kind of girl strangers probably asked for directions from.
and pope…
he looked like trouble standing still.
inside, her friend said something that made her laugh again, quieter this time. she ducked her head smiling as she took a bite of the lemon loaf she partnered with her latte. it was almost like she got embarrassed by how loud she’d been laughing.
pope couldn’t stop staring.
“you got it bad. whoever you’re looking at” craig piped.
“shut up.”
“nah, seriously.” craig grinned now. “you’re lookin’ through the window like a divorced dad seeing his family on christmas.”
pope shoved his shoulder roughly, but there wasn’t much heat behind it.
because the truth was that he’d never seen anything prettier than her when she forgot to be careful.
then suddenly, like she felt it somehow, her eyes lifted toward the window. straight to him.
pope froze for half a second as she looked surprised.
then her whole face softened instantly the second she recognized him like he was genuinely happy to see him.
she smiled. small at first, then bigger.
pope felt his heartbeat stumble like an idiot.
darren made a low sound beside him. “oh, you are done man.”
inside, she tilted her head slightly toward the door in a silent question.
are you coming in?
pope stared at her for a second before he glanced down at himself to double check his appearance. black t-shirt and shirts.
his instinct was immediate.
leave her alone.
don’t bring your mess into her soft little coffee shop world.
but then she smiled again. patient this time and waiting, like she genuinely wanted him to come inside.
darren nudged him hard enough to break the spiral. “if you don’t go in there i’m gonna do it for you.”
pope shot him a glare.
“and say what?”
darren blinked. “hi?”
“terrible idea.” craig said. “say, hey babe—”
“shut the hell up.” pope snapped making his brother chuckle.
“fucking, go inside man!” darren urged.
pope looked back through the window, his chest felt tight.
“fuck me,” he muttered.
his brothers both burst out laughing immediately as they watched pope shove open the coffee shop door.
You're shy. Really shy.
Jack think's its adorable.
Jack Abbot notices your shyness long before he realizes he’s in love with you.
At first, he mistakes it for quietness.
Then politeness.
Then maybe exhaustion from long shifts.
But no.
You’re just shy.
Painfully, genuinely shy.
Not incapable of talking—not by any means. You were incredible with patients. Calm during trauma calls. Confident when giving instructions. You could advocate for someone without hesitation if they needed help.
But the second attention turned toward you?
It was over.
You ducked your head when people complimented you.
You fidgeted when too many eyes landed on you at once.
You lowered your voice without realizing it whenever someone asked you a personal question.
And if someone flirted with you?
God.
Jack thought it might actually kill you.
The first time he really notices it is during a staff lunch.
Samira compliments your hair.
That’s it.
Just:
“You curled it differently today. It looks pretty.”
And suddenly you look like you want the floor to open up and swallow you whole.
Your hand flies up to touch your hair instinctively. “Oh—um. Thanks.”
Your cheeks turn pink almost instantly.
You stare very intensely at your sandwich.
Jack watches the entire thing happen from across the table.
Completely fascinated.
Trinity notices him staring.
“Oh my God,” she whispers immediately.
Jack blinks. “What?”
“You think she’s cute.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You are literally smiling at her right now.”
He stops smiling immediately.
Unfortunately, that only makes Trinity laugh harder.
It gets worse after that.
Or better.
Depending on who you ask.
Because once Jack notices your shyness, he starts noticing all of it.
The way you tuck your chin down when he catches you looking at him.
The way you say “sorry” before asking him questions even when you’ve done nothing wrong.
The way your fingers twist together when he stands too close.
And his personal favorite—
The way you completely lose the ability to make eye contact when he compliments you.
It happens accidentally the first time.
You’re both restocking supplies after a brutal shift, exhaustion hanging heavy in the air.
You look tired. Hair messy. Scrubs wrinkled.
Still beautiful.
Jack watches you reach for something on the top shelf before speaking without thinking.
“You look pretty today.”
The silence after is immediate.
You freeze.
Actually freeze.
Jack realizes what he’s done approximately two seconds too late.
You stare at the shelf like it personally betrayed you.
“…What?” you say quietly.
Jack feels something dangerously fond bloom in his chest.
“I said you look pretty.”
Your face goes bright red.
Bright red.
You duck your head so quickly he almost laughs.
“Oh,” you mumble.
That’s it.
That’s your response.
Jack bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to stop himself from grinning like an idiot.
“You okay there?” he asks.
You nod too fast. “Mhm.”
“You sure?”
“Mhm.”
“You can look at me, y’know.”
That only makes it worse.
You make one brief, panicked second of eye contact before immediately looking away again.
Jack is doomed.
Absolutely doomed.
The thing is—
Your shyness never feels immature to him.
It never annoys him.
It’s just… you.
And Jack likes you.
All of you.
The quietness.
The softness.
The hesitation before you reach for his hand in public, even after you’ve been dating for months.
The way you hide your face in his chest when his coworkers tease you.
The way you instinctively tuck yourself into his side in crowded rooms.
He loves every bit of it.
Especially because he knows the parts of you most people don’t.
Because underneath the shyness is someone deeply feeling.
Someone observant. Funny. Fiercely caring.
Someone who loves with their entire heart once they feel safe enough to do it.
And Jack learns very quickly that being the person you feel safest with is one of the greatest privileges of his life.
One night after shift, the two of you end up at his apartment curled together on the couch.
You’re sitting between his legs, back against his chest while some movie plays neither of you are paying attention to.
Jack’s arms are wrapped loosely around your waist.
Comfortable.
Warm.
Safe.
His chin rests on your shoulder as he scrolls absently on his phone.
Then he pauses.
Hums quietly.
“What?” you ask softly.
“You know everyone at work thinks you’re adorable, right?”
You immediately tense. “What?”
Jack grins against your shoulder.
“There it is.”
“There what is?”
“That panic.”
“There is no panic,” you say weakly.
“There definitely is.”
You try to sink further into his hoodie.
“That’s so mean.”
Jack laughs quietly, tightening his arms around you when you attempt to hide your face.
“I said adorable, not pathetic.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“It helps me.”
You groan softly as he presses a kiss against the side of your head.
“You get so shy,” he murmurs, sounding entirely too pleased about it.
You turn slightly, glaring at him without any real heat.
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Yeah,” he says easily. “I am.”
Your cheeks warm again.
Jack notices immediately, because of course he does.
“See?” he says softly, smugness creeping into his voice. “There it is again.”
You hide your face in his shoulder this time.
He laughs properly now, low and warm, arms tightening around you like he can’t help himself.
“You’re cute,” he says into your hair.
You mumble something muffled against his shirt.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Sounded like somethin’.”
You lift your head just enough to glare at him again.
Jack looks completely unrepentant.
Then his expression softens.
Completely.
One of his hands slides up your arm slowly before gently cupping your jaw, thumb brushing over your warm cheek.
summary: you bring jack as your date to a wedding and he brings everything you’ve both been avoiding. (4.8k)
pairing: jack abbot x reader
content: grief/mourning, heavy angst, emotional themes, mutual pining, mention of death of a spouse, fake dating without actually fake dating.
your cousin maria’s wedding invitation had been sitting unopened on your kitchen counter for almost two full weeks before jack abbot found you blankly staring at it during a lull in the shift.
the er hummed around you in that familiar exhausted rhythm.
someone laughed too loudly at the nurses' station because everyone working twelve-hour shifts eventually lost their sense of appropriate volume.
a trauma pager went off nearby only for somebody else to groan, "not it," before disappearing around the corner anyway.
you were sat hunched over stale coffee in the break room, turning the envelope over and over like repetition alone might solve the problem.
you were fully established in your career, the kind of life that had taken real effort to build and yet somehow every family gathering still circled back to the same conversation.
not your job. not your achievements. not the years you had spent becoming someone you were genuinely proud of.
just whether you had a man.
your aunt was going to ask. she always did. same expression. same concerned little tilt of her head like your love life was a error she was personally trying to make her mission to resolve.
it annoyed you more than you liked admitting.
you had worked too hard. you had survived too many overnight shifts. missed too many holidays and birthdays and pieces of your own life trying to build something meaningful just to have your existence narrowed down to whether or not somebody was waiting for you at home.
you had made peace with it a while ago, quietly and without drama. if it happened, it happened. if not, your life still existed in full colour.
other people just seemed determined to view it in grayscale.
jack dropped into the chair beside you with a tired exhale, his legs stretching beneath the table until the toe of his shoe bumped yours accidentally.
neither of you moved away.
his wedding ring caught briefly under the fluorescent lights when he reached for the abandoned bag of pretzels beside you.
jack never talked about his wife much, but he didn't hide her either. there were small things people learned over time — that he had been married young, that she had died years ago, that he still wore the ring afterward without explanation and without apology.
you had never asked him about it. partly because it didn't feel like your place and mostly because the existence of it had always felt like a line neither of you were supposed to cross.
which was probably why nothing had ever happened between you despite months of lingering looks and conversations that stretched too long after shifts ended.
you had assumed jack felt it too. that whatever existed between you lived permanently in the category of things quietly left alone.
"you gonna open it," he asked, glancing at the envelope, "or are you hoping telepathy kicks in?"
you snorted softly despite yourself.
your thumb dragged along the gold lettering. your cousin's name stared back at you in elegant script that felt aggressively cheerful.
"eventually."
jack leaned slightly to get a better look. "wedding?"
you nodded once.
"you don't sound particularly excited."
you tipped your head back slightly. "because my entire family is gonna be there. and my aunt is definitely going to ask why i'm still single like she's conducting annual performance reviews."
that got a real laugh out of him. "harsh."
"last christmas she asked if i was 'being too picky,'" you muttered. "which is a crazy thing to say to someone who once dated a man that thought foreplay was sending me a thumbs-up emoji."
jack choked on his coffee. you looked over in alarm just as he started coughing into his fist, eyes watering slightly.
"oh my god," you said through laughter. "are you okay?"
he held up a hand, still coughing once before looking at you with disbelief.
"a thumbs-up emoji?"
"yellow too," you said solemnly. "not even one of the skin tone ones. just default settings disrespect."
jack laughed again, quieter this time, shaking his head. the sound settled warmly somewhere under your ribs.
"so this wedding is basically psychological warfare," he concluded.
"exactly."
he hummed, watching you for a second longer than necessary.
the silence between you had started feeling different lately.
charged in this quiet, impossible-to-ignore way. too many lingering glances. too many moments where one of you would look up and catch the other already looking.
you looked at him then, fully intending to make some throwaway joke about him being the perfect fake boyfriend to survive the weekend.
but the words stalled halfway out.
because jack looked unfairly good for a man who was simply eating your pretzels from the vending machine. there was something annoyingly magnetic about him lately. maybe not lately. maybe always.
you were just making the mistake of noticing now.
"you should just come with me," you said lightly. "save me from being interrogated about my romantic failures."
you expected him to laugh it off but instead, he went still and when you looked back at him, he was already watching you.
something unreadable crossed his face before he smoothed it away. "...okay."
your stomach dropped immediately.
"wait," you said, sitting up straighter. "seriously?"
he shrugged, trying for casual and missing by a mile. "if you want me there."
"jack—"
"sounds like you could use the backup."
you stared at him.
he reached for your abandoned coffee, took one sip, immediately grimaced, and pushed it back toward you.
"this is awful, by the way."
you blinked. "you just drank my coffee."
"i was trying to understand your emotional state."
that startled a laugh out of you so suddenly you nearly spilled the cup. jack smiled a little at that.
"it could be entertaining," he added. "watching your family try to figure me out."
"oh they won't try to figure you out," you said immediately. "they'll decide who you are within thirty seconds and never revisit it."
"great." he leaned back in the chair. "can't wait."
the problem was jack didn't really do things like this. he didn't casually agree to weddings. he especially didn't casually agree to weddings with you.
and the fact he had said yes so easily lodged itself somewhere dangerous in your chest for the rest of the shift.
you spent way too long getting ready not because you cared what anyone thought but because jack was picking you up.
your dress fell against your body in deep satin, somewhere between wine and dark brown depending on the light. it slipped slightly off your shoulders, neckline dipping just enough to feel intentional without looking like you had tried too hard.
the fabric hugged your waist before falling softer around your legs, elegant in a way that made you feel oddly unfamiliar in your own skin.
you kept adjusting it anyway.
once at the waist. once at the straps. once because your hands apparently needed a job or they were going to start shaking.
by the time your phone buzzed with a simple 'here', your pulse was already embarrassing you.
when you stepped outside, jack was leaning against his car waiting for you and unfortunately, that was a problem immediately.
his suit fit him unfairly well. dark, simple, expensive-looking without trying to be. his tie was already loosened slightly like formalwear physically offended him.
outside the hospital, he looked different. sharper somehow. less like the steady er doctor you saw every day and more like someone fully capable of destabilising your emotional wellbeing in entirely new settings.
your pulse stumbled the second he looked up and then stopped completely when his expression changed after seeing you.
just for a second.
his eyes moved over you once before he looked away toward the street like he needed a moment to recover privately.
your heartbeat tripped over itself.
"wow," he said finally, his voice sounded rougher than usual.
you tried to laugh through the heat climbing up your neck. "that bad?"
his gaze snapped back to yours immediately. "not even close."
the sincerity hit harder than flirting would've.
jack cleared his throat softly and walked around to open the passenger door for you.
you blinked at him. "...who are you?"
one corner of his mouth lifted. "thought i should pretend i was raised correctly for one night."
you laughed quietly, shaking your head as you got into the car.
his hand settled briefly against your lower back to steady you. both small and polite and completely ruining your life.
you noticed the absence of the ring almost immediately after. your eyes dropped automatically to his left hand resting against the steering wheel.
bare.
your breath caught before you could stop it and jack noticed instantly. his fingers flexed once against the wheel before he spoke, quieter now.
"figured people might have questions if i showed up as your date wearing a wedding ring."
the honesty of it hit harder than you expected.
your chest tightened painfully as your eyes flicked briefly toward his jacket pocket before back to him.
"it's still with me," he added after a second, his voice low and steady. "just... not on tonight."
something about the way he said it made it clear this wasn't him moving on. it wasn't him letting go.
it was practicality, consideration, and maybe even an attempt to make things easier for you more than himself.
"okay," you said softly. you didn't ask anything else. you didn't ask whether taking it off felt wrong. you didn't ask how long he'd sat with the decision before picking you up. you didn't ask whether he was regretting it already.
somehow not asking felt more intimate than if you had.
you glanced down toward his right leg instinctively when he adjusted slightly in his seat, subtle enough most people probably wouldn't have noticed. but you always noticed with him.
the stiffness after long shifts. the slight hitch when he stood too quickly. the way cold weather irritated it more than he ever admitted.
you had argued with him for almost ten minutes the previous day about driving. him deciding to be your date for already enough of a favor.
"jack, it's over an hour away."
"and?"
"and your prosthetic been bothering you all week."
"i'm surviving somehow."
"you're limping."
"don't worry about it." he had refused flat-out after that, already reaching for his keys in his pocket before he had shook them in your face while you had glared at him.
now, quieter, you looked over at him again. "i'm driving us back, by the way."
jack's eyes flicked briefly toward you before returning to the road. "we'll see."
you narrowed your eyes immediately. "that's not an answer."
a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "you always this bossy outside the hospital too?"
"only with difficult patients."
that earned you a soft huff of laughter and then, after a second, he tapped his fingers once against the steering wheel.
"fine," he said. "you can drive back."
the victory felt weirdly satisfying.
you smiled despite yourself, settling back into the seat as the city lights blurred around you.
and beside you, jack glanced over once—brief, quiet, fond in a way that made your stomach tighten all over again.
the drive blurred past in warm city light and half-finished thoughts. jack drove one-handed, relaxed in a way that somehow still looked deliberate. every so often he adjusted his tie with visible irritation like he was resisting the urge to rip it off entirely.
you kept catching yourself staring at the soft line of his jaw under passing streetlights. the quiet focus in his expression when he drove. the way he looked solid even in silence.
eventually, without looking over, he said, "you're doing it again."
heat rushed into your face instantly. "doing what?"
his eyes flicked toward you briefly. "staring."
you swallowed hard. "sorry."
a faint curve appeared at the corner of his mouth. "i didn't say you had to stop."
your stomach flipped so hard it genuinely irritated you so you turned toward the window immediately to hide the smile breaking across your face.
jack noticed anyway.
you could hear it in his voice when he said, quieter now, "there it is."
you looked back over. "what?"
"the smile you've been trying not to do for the last five minutes."
you hated how warm your face got and you hated even more that jack looked quietly pleased with himself for causing it.
that was the exact moment you realised this entire night was going to be a disaster one way or another.
the venue glowed warm against the dark sky, golden lights spilling across the courtyard while music drifted softly through the open doors.
guests clustered together in little pockets of conversation, champagne glasses flashing in the light every time someone laughed.
the second you walked in with jack beside you, your family noticed instantly.
your cousin maria spotted you first near the bar and immediately pointed between the two of you with the expression of someone witnessing breaking news.
"oh, this is insane," she said before you had even reached her. "you brought a hot doctor?"
you nearly choked on air.
jack, meanwhile, looked completely calm as he held out his hand politely. "jack."
your cousin ignored the handshake entirely and hugged him instead.
"thank you for finally giving this family something interesting to talk about."
"maria," you hissed.
she pulled away only to look between the two of you suspiciously. "wait. are you guys actually together or are you doing that thing emotionally unavailable people do where they stare at each other for six months instead of going on a date?"
jack actually laughed while you stared at him in betrayal.
"wow," you muttered. "great to know who's side you're on."
"she seems perceptive," he said calmly.
maria pointed aggressively at him. "i like him, a lot."
things only got worse from there.
your mother adored him within approximately four minutes. then jack found himself helping your uncle carry extra chairs over because apparently he possessed the deeply dangerous quality of being both attractive and useful.
you watched from your table as your niece anna climbed directly into his lap without invitation halfway through dessert because she had apparently decided he looked trustworthy.
jack didn't even blink. he just balanced her there naturally while she explained something extremely serious about horses.
"that one's mean," she informed him solemnly from his lap while pointing at a centerpiece swan sculpture. "you can tell."
jack nodded gravely. "absolutely. bad energy."
anna looked delighted. your mother looked emotional and you looked like you needed to be tranquilised.
jack glanced across the table toward you with anna still tucked against his side, and something in your chest pulled painfully tight at how easy he looked there.
how natural.
like he had belonged in your life long before tonight.
your aunt eventually cornered you near the drinks table with a glass of wine in hand and an expression that immediately made you defensive.
"he looks at you very carefully," she said.
you blinked. "what does that even mean?"
she shrugged lightly. "like you're something he's trying not to want too much."
your stomach dropped so suddenly. "you are unbelievable."
"i'm experienced," she corrected. "there's a difference."
you rolled your eyes, but heat spreading across your cheeks.
across the room, jack caught your eye over the rim of his drink and then smiled slightly when he realised you had been caught looking at him again.
you looked away first.
the ceremony started and slowly, almost invisibly, something changed.
jack still smiled when people spoke to him. still let your mother drag him into family photos. still nodded politely through increasingly invasive questions from distant relatives who had apparently already decided you were secretly engaged.
you noticed first that he stopped moving.
the little idle shifts disappeared. his expression quieted into something too still for the warmth of the room around him.
at first you thought he was just tired but then the groom's voice cracked during his vows and jack froze. only for a second but you felt it immediately beside him.
his right hand slipped into his pocket and stayed there.
your gaze dropped instinctively to the ring hidden against his palm.
your throat tightened painfully.
he stared forward, composed enough that nobody else would notice anything wrong, but you could feel the tension in him now, sharp and controlled and exhausting.
like he was holding himself together through sheer force alone.
and suddenly guilt hit you so hard it made your chest ache.
you shouldn't have asked him to come.
you shouldn't have put him in a room full of promises and first dances and forever.
you turned slightly toward him, unsure what to even do with the hurt suddenly sitting between you.
the bride and groom swayed slowly at the center while everyone around them softened into blurred movement and warm light. your cousin laughed against her husband's shoulder, her eyes closed like happiness was the easiest thing in the world.
jack looked away first then his hand shifted against yours on the seat. hesitant and barely there, like he almost stopped himself.
your breath caught. slowly, carefully, you turned your hand just enough.
jack took it immediately, his fingers slid between yours like it was the only steady thing in the room.
he still didn't look at you but his thumb moved once over your knuckles while his other hand stayed buried in his pocket around the ring.
past and present held in the same breath.
and you didn't let go.
the night had gone quiet in the way only weddings do after the noise finally runs out of permission to exist.
the reception thinned slowly until it became something softer. chairs being stacked in uneven piles, glassware clinking in distant trays, music fading into something almost imagined rather than heard.
outside, the air had cooled properly now, settling against your skin as you sat on the stone steps behind the venue.
the kind of quiet that didn't feel empty so much as exhausted, like the whole day had finally collapsed into itself.
jack was sat beside you, close enough that your knees brushed when either of you shifted. his suit jacket sat around your shoulders, still warm from him, the fabric heavy in a way that felt more intimate than it should've been.
his tie hung loose, shirt collar open slightly, sleeves rolled unevenly like he had stopped caring about precision hours ago. he looked tired in a way that wasn't just physical.
you could see it now that everything had slowed down enough to notice.
neither of you had spoken for a while.
not because there was nothing to say but because everything felt too close to the surface.
the distant sound of cleanup drifted faintly behind the venue doors. laughter from inside had dulled into occasional bursts before disappearing completely. even the wind felt slower somehow, like it didn't want to interrupt.
finally, your voice broke the silence, quieter than you meant it to be.
"i'm sorry for tonight."
jack didn't look at you immediately. his gaze stayed forward, fixed somewhere in the dark beyond the parking lot, like if he focused hard enough he could keep himself steady in place.
his hands were loosely clasped in front of him, but his fingers kept flexing like they couldn't decide what to do with themselves.
"don't do that," he said eventually.
"i brought you here and—"
"i said don't." it wasn't sharp but just strained like he didn't have the energy to let you take responsibility for something that wasn't just yours.
that should've been the end of it but something in his voice made your chest tighten instead of settling.
you turned slightly toward him and that's when you saw it properly. his jaw wasn't as controlled as it had been all night. his mouth had gone tight in a way that looked like restraint held too long. there was a faint crease between his brows that hadn't been there earlier.
his breathing wasn't quite even anymore, subtle enough that anyone else might've missed it — but you didn't.
"jack," you said carefully.
he exhaled through his nose, slow and uneven, like he was trying to reset something internally.
"i'm fine." it was automatic but not very convincing.
you didn't push. you just stayed there beside him, letting the silence sit again, softer this time. the kind of silence that didn't demand anything from him but didn't leave him alone either.
a long moment passed before jack shifted slightly like his body had tried to hold itself together and failed quietly.
his hands went to his face, slow at first like a reflex he didn't mean to follow. he dragged them across his eyes, as if trying to physically reset something inside himself.
but it didn't work like something inside him had reached its limit without warning.
you saw it in his posture first. the way he bent forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees now, head dipping like the weight of everything had finally become too much to hold upright. his fingers curled against his face again, but this time they didn't steady him.
his breathing turned uneven.
"jack..." you started, softer now.
he shook his head once, sharply, like he was trying to stop you from witnessing it fully but it was already happening.
his voice came out rough.
"i'm trying," he said, barely audible. "i'm trying to keep it together."
your chest tightened immediately.
he let out a short, broken laugh under his breath but it wasn't humor. it was disbelief at himself.
"it's just... tonight," he added quickly, like he needed something to anchor it to. "weddings are—"
he stopped because whatever explanation he had reached for didn't make it out.
his hand dropped from his face and you saw it then.
his eyes were wet.
not fully crying yet. not openly. but close enough that it made your heart ache, like something in you had dropped in response.
he blinked hard, once, like he could force it back down through effort alone but it didn't work.
his voice broke slightly when he spoke again.
"i thought i could do this."
you didn't move closer yet. you didn't want to overwhelm him or make it worse. so you stayed where you were, steady beside him, letting him have space even as he fell apart in it.
"you are doing it," you said quietly.
he shook his head again, sharper this time.
"no." his voice cracked on the word. he swallowed, looking away like he couldn't stand being seen. "i'm not."
and almost like it slipped out before he could stop it. "i miss her."
that landed between you like something heavy and irreversible.
jack's hands clenched together once, then loosened again like he didn't know what to do with them. his breathing stuttered as he tried to steady himself.
"i see things like this," he said, voice roughening further, "and i think i've gotten used to it. like it doesn't do anything anymore."
his eyes shut for a second and when they opened again, they were glassier, more exposed.
"and then i come here and i realize i haven't."
he looked down at his hands like they belonged to someone else. "and i miss her so much it feels... wrong to still be sitting here."
your chest ached in a way that felt almost physical but you didn't interrupt and just listened.
he dragged a hand through his hair, messier now, less controlled. "and then there's you," he said quietly.
that made your breath catch but he still didn't look at you. he physically couldn't.
"and i don't know what to do with that either."
silence hit again, heavier this time. his voice dropped further. "because it's not the same. it can't be. but it's still there."
his jaw tightened like he hated how honest it was.
"and i feel guilty for even thinking about it," he admitted, his voice breaking again. "like it means i'm letting her go."
that was when his composure finally gave out completely. he covered his face again, his shoulders shaking once as he tried to inhale properly.
it wasn't loud crying. it was controlled grief collapsing under its own weight.
years of holding it in finally slipping through all at once, right there on the steps behind a wedding where everyone else had already moved on to happily ever afters.
slowly and carefully, you shifted closer until your shoulder pressed gently against his. not forcing anything and offering presence without demand.
jack didn't pull away. if anything, he leaned into it slightly like his body had been waiting for permission to stop holding itself so rigid.
his breathing was uneven against your shoulder, catching and releasing in broken rhythms as he tried to steady himself.
you stayed like that.
you let him miss her without interruption. letting him fall apart without trying to reshape it and letting him exist in the space between grief and everything else he didn't know how to name yet.
eventually, his voice came quieter again.
broken, but steadier than before. "i didn't expect this."
you didn't ask what he meant because you already knew.
he let out a shaky breath, wiping at his face once more like it frustrated him that he couldn't just stop the emotion on command.
"i'm sorry," he added immediately, instinctively, like apologising was still his first reflex even now.
you shook your head slightly. "don't. you don't have to be sorry for missing her."
that made him go still.
his breathing slowed gradually after that, not fixed, not resolved, but settling enough that the moment stopped feeling like it might shatter completely.
you thought that would be where it ended but jack inhaled slowly, like he was gathering something heavier than breath.
his hand dropped from his face.
he didn't look at you right away and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than everything else that had come before it—steadier, but stripped down.
"there's something i need to say," he admitted shaking his head once, like he didn't love the vulnerability of even starting.
you shifted, just slightly. your fingers tightened around the fabric of his jacket still around your shoulders—like you had only just remembered it was there.
"i've been trying not to say it for months."
that made your pulse pick up as jack finally looked at you. not like a colleague. not like someone passing time. not like a man trying to behave correctly at a wedding.
just... him.
"i've liked you for the longest time," he said simply.
your breath caught sharply.
he didn't rush it. he didn't overexplain it and just let it sit there in the air between you like it had always been there anyway.
"and it hasn't gone away," he added, quieter now. "if anything it's gotten worse overtime."
a short, almost helpless exhale left him like he was annoyed at himself for saying it out loud.
his gaze dropped briefly, then lifted again.
"i would ask you out," he said, voice rough but honest, "if i wasn't... like this."
he gestured vaguely to himself—not just the night, or the grief, but everything sitting behind it.
"i'm not in a place where i can do that properly," he admitted. "not without dragging all of this into it. and you really don't deserve that."
your nodded slowly and he swallowed, his jaw flexing slightly.
"i need to sort myself out first," he said more firmly, like he needed to believe it. "before i ruin something that shouldn't be touched by this."
you let out a breath that almost turned into something else. not a laugh but something softer, more incredulous. it cut through the tension just enough for you to find your voice.
"jack," you said to which he stopped instantly which mattered more than it should've.
your voice came out steadier than you felt. "you don't get to decide what i deserve."
his eyes flickered—not away, but through that statement, like it landed deeper than he expected.
you hesitated for a moment "and you don't get to decide you ruin things just by wanting them."
your fingers tightened slightly against his jacket again. "i'm not asking you to be whole," you said. "i just wish you'd stop acting like you're not allowed to want anything."
jack didn't answer you right away.
his gaze dropped for a moment, like something inside him had been interrupted mid-collapse and didn't know what shape to take next.
when he looked back up, he still looked wrecked.
very much still human and still carrying everything but now he looked like he was in it with you present, not alone inside it.
and that changed everything in a way neither of you said out loud.
warnings: reader is dating baz (boooooo), just pretend reader has brain damage or something for being into baz, revenge, andrew 'magpie' cody strikes again, andrew wins you over with his autistic tendencies, 18+, smut, cowgirl
requested by: anon
authors note: this fic was requested from my birthday event! the fic is inspired by the song that was chosen. if you want to participate go to this post!
ps. listen i'm an OG sabrina fan from her girl meets world days, she's actually just one day older than me, so i've listened to her music for a long time and i'm so pleased i got a song from singluar act 1
You had Pope exactly where you wanted him, moaning and whimpering underneath you as you bounced on his cock. You were in his apartment, in his bed, and the two of you had been holed up in here for almost a full day.
It had started yesterday when you’d seen your 'on again, off again boyfriend’ Baz with his tongue down some girls throat outside of Deran’s bar. You weren’t sure what it was about the sight that finally broke something inside you and made you realize that Baz was never gonna settle down like he’d been promising for the past few years. Maybe it was because he was ‘moving on’ so quickly since you last called it off, like you meant nothing to him, or maybe it was because the other girl was noticeably younger than you.
Either way, something shook free in your brain and you realized you’d wasted so much time on this absolute loser.
You’d gone to the beach to clear your head rather than go into the bar and ran into Pope stalking up and down the coastline. You’d both been in need of a listening ear and you two spent the next hour walking along the shore and spilling your guts about everything. At one point, Pope handed you a seashell you hadn’t noticed him picking up. You’d probed, asking why he gave you that specific shell, and he simply stated that the iridescent underside matched the stone in the pendent of your necklace.
One little comment from him and you were suddenly wondering if you’d been wasting your years with the wrong Cody brother. Baz barely remembered your birthday, much less took notice of the jewelry you were wearing. Baz only looked at your outfit as an obstacle to get to your body and had a tendency of getting bored by your relationship and by extension, you. He didn’t really know anything about you when you really thought about it.
But you realized that Pope knew you. He noticed you. Any time you were abandoned by Baz at a party or bar, Pope would keep you company. He picked up on how you were feeling and checked in if you were feeling down. Recently, he wished you a happy birthday, complete with a set of earrings in the type of metal you favoured, and then he sort of disappeared. Or at least he backed off. You started to feel that Baz had something to do with that. Baz was arrogant and territorial, he likely saw Pope as a wedge in your relationship and made him go away.
As Pope handed you that seashell, you saw the kind, generous, thoughtful, and considerate man in front of you for what felt like the first time. God, you’d been so blind.
You’d taken Popes hand and continued your walk with him, eventually asking if Pope kept giving you gifts because he liked you. With red tipped ears Pope admitted his feelings but explained that he'd backed off when Baz said that you said Pope creeped you out.
That pissed you off and confirmed your suspicions about Baz convincing Pope to leave you alone.
You kissed Pope then, gently and with great care, showing him that you weren’t afraid of him. You’d asked to go back to his place with him and had spent the past 24 hours showing Pope just how much you appreciated him.
As you fucked yourself down onto his cock, your tits bouncing from the effort and your hands braced on his solid chest for balance, your cell phone rang. You barely noticed, too caught up in how good you felt, in the way Popes hands gripped your hips, in the sounds Pope was making, until the ringing wouldn’t stop and you finally glanced at the screen.
It was Baz.
You smiled, delighted to get some revenge and treat him the same way he’d treated you these past few years - disposable and unimportant. You grabbed the phone from the bedside table and answered the call, not stopping what you were doing for a moment.
“Sorry Baz, this is a really bad time.” You said breathlessly into the phone. Andrew looked up at you with wide eyes and you slapped your free hand over his mouth. With the lack of leverage, you slowed your hips to a leisurely pace, fucking Pope long and slow. You reveled the way Popes eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned against your hand.
“What’re you up to right now?” Baz asked, oblivious to what was happening on your end of the phone and also completely ignoring what you said.
“Baz. Now is a bad time, and you know what, every time you call from now on is probably going to be a bad time.”
“Baby-”
“I’m not your baby Baz. I’m the woman you treat terribly and keep around because I’m convenient and who you call up whenever you’re suddenly into me again.” Popes fingers dug into your hips as his bucked up, chasing his orgasm as his eyes begged you to move faster. You choked out a moan as his cock pushed deeper inside you, causing your hand to slide from his mouth to the pillow beside his head as you doubled over in pleasure.
“F-fuck, Andrew,” You moaned into the phone as you were unable to keep the words from tumbling out of your mouth.
“Andrew? What-what the fuck? Where are you right now?” Baz’s voice through the phone was grating and annoying. You looked down at Pope panting beneath you, your faces close, and locked eyes with him as you smiled sweetly.
“I’m moving on. I understand why you tried so hard to keep Pope from me Baz, you were so afraid I’d see what a real man is.”
“Are you-”
“Lose my number.” You hung up the phone unceremoniously and threw it blindly onto the bed. You didn’t even have a moment to think before Pope grabbed the back of your head and pulled you down into a searing kiss. You both moved faster, your hips thrusting in tandem as you moaned into Popes mouth. One of Popes hands slipped between you to press the pads of his fingers against your clit, providing a firm, constant pressure that sent sparks through your abdomen. Pope kept pressing, the roll of your hips rubbing your clit against his fingers until your orgasm peaked, bursting through you like fire.
You whined into Popes mouth as your pleasure washed through you, Pope not letting up for a second. You’d had more orgasms in the last 24 hours than you’d had in your whole time with Baz, and that was thanks to Popes diligence and care. He never came unless you did first.
Before your orgasm even finished, Pope couldn’t take it anymore and pulled his arm from between you to wrap around your back so he could flip your positions expertly. You giggled, happier than you’d been in ages as Pope pressed you into the mattress. Pope didn’t waste a second, his hips continuing their punishing rhythm and shoving his cock deep inside you. You squealed as you clung to him while the headboard slammed against the wall over and over from the force of his thrusts. His hips slapped against yours over and over as he chased his orgasm in you, and Pope dropped his face to your neck as he got close.
You cupped the nape of his neck and pressed your face against the side of his head as you encouraged him to finish inside you. Popes breath was hot on your skin as he cried out your name when he came, spilling inside you and filling you with his warmth.
Popes hips rolled to a stop eventually, his weight pressing you comfortingly into the bed. You smiled, big and bright, as your new reality set in. You were free of Baz and you now had a man who actually cared about you, all of you, and you couldn’t be happier.
Summary: in which jack abbot doesn't really need to learn new things to impress you.
CW: prob medical innacuracies, fem!reader and average pitt descriptions.
Word Count: ~3k
AN: first time writing for the pitt and abbot. any feedback is appreciated xx
Jack Abbot had survived combat zones, 36-hour shifts, and enough Pittsburgh winters to make a man question every life choice. But somehow, he wasn't prepared for you.
Competent, smart, helpful without being showy. The kind of doctor who made chaos look organized just by stepping into it. You had started as an intern on days, spending three straight years under Robby’s orbit before asking to switch to nights for your final year. Apparently, you wanted the full ED experience before finishing residency.
Jack had heard about you long before he properly met you, mostly from Robby.
At first it was little things, slipped into handoff reports or post-shift complaints over stale coffee.
"She caught the PE before cards did."
"She stayed four hours late to help clear the waiting room."
"I didn’t even ask her to comfort that kid; she just knew what to say."
Then it became constant.
Robby talked about you the way attendings talked about once-in-a-career residents — with equal parts pride and disbelief. How you could run a trauma without freezing. How nurses trusted you instinctively. How med students followed you around like ducklings because you actually taught them instead of using them as free labor. Apparently you could calm psych patients, charm consultants, and somehow convince surgeons to answer pages without starting a fight.
Jack had assumed Robby was exaggerating.
Not maliciously. Just… Robby loved mentoring. Loved finding potential and polishing it until it shined. Every few years he picked up a resident he swore would become the future of emergency medicine. Jack figured you were simply the newest addition to the collection.
Then he worked a crossover shift with you. And, annoyingly, Robby hadn’t been exaggerating at all.
You moved through the department like you belonged there. Not rushed, not frantic — just steady. You remembered every nurse’s name, every patient’s lab values, every family member lingering anxiously by a doorway. You anticipated orders before attendings asked for them. You caught mistakes quietly, corrected them without embarrassing anyone, and somehow still found time to explain things to terrified interns.
The thing that got him, though, was that you never seemed aware of how good you were.
No ego. No performance. No desperate need to prove yourself smartest in the room.
Just competence.
Jack hated how quickly he noticed you after that.
The occasional shifts when you covered nights started becoming something he looked forward to. He’d walk into the ED expecting the usual grind and find you already there, coffee in hand, updating the board with that focused little crease between your brows. Sometimes he’d sub into days and catch glimpses of the life you’d built there — nurses lighting up when you arrived, Robby throwing you impossible cases because he knew you could handle them, med students practically competing for your attention.
Even Santos, who disliked nearly everyone on principle, admitted you were “annoyingly reliable.”
By your fourth year, Jack knew your habits better than he should’ve. The way you bounced lightly on your heels when waiting for any results. The fact you always stole strawberry popsicles from pediatrics during rough shifts. How you tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear while concentrating. The soft, exhausted smile you gave environmental services workers at 3 a.m. when everyone else had definitely forgotten they existed.
Then you switched to nights permanently. Just after the start of your R4 year.
And Jack was done for.
Somewhere between watching you run a multiple-GSW trauma with blood on your shoes and complete calm in your voice… and hearing you laugh in the ambulance bay at five in the morning, sleep-deprived and radiant under ugly fluorescent lights… admiration turned into something far more dangerous.
Because the worst part was that you fit into nights effortlessly.
The night shift could smell weakness. It chewed people up. Burned out good doctors in months. But you walked into the madness like you’d always belonged there beside them — beside him.
And Jack, who rarely impressed easily and trusted even less easily, found himself watching you across crowded hallways with something dangerously close to reverence.
Robby, unfortunately, noticed immediately.
A week after you officially switched to nights, during handoff after a particularly rough shift, Robby glanced over at Jack while they stood at the board.
“See?” he said quietly, smug satisfaction written all over his face. “Told you she was special.”
Jack had rolled his eyes, muttered something to get Robby off his case, and gone back to talking about handoffs.
x
Tonight the ER was unusually still for a Tuesday. A couple minor cases, one drunk college kid with a sprained wrist insisting he was “built different,” and otherwise the kind of eerie calm that made everyone suspicious the universe was winding up for something catastrophic around 3 a.m.
Which was probably why he found you asleep in the break room.
Your cheek was squished against your folded arms at the table, hair slightly mussed from sleep, your abandoned energy drink sitting untouched beside you. The overhead fluorescent lights softened everything just enough to make the scene feel strangely intimate.
Jack paused in the doorway longer than he should have.
It was ridiculous, really, how fond he’d gotten of looking at you.
Not in a creepy way, he told himself immediately. Christ. He was forty-nine years old. He was your attending.
He just… appreciated you.
That was all.
The fact that he’d recently downloaded TikTok under a fake name to “understand references” meant absolutely nothing. Neither did the Spotify playlist currently saved on his phone called Not Your Grandpa’s Rock, courtesy of a laughing Santos who’d almost choked trying not to tease him about it.
He’d even asked one of the nurses what “lowkey” meant earlier this week. Humiliating.
Your watch beeped softly. You jerked awake with a tiny inhale, blinking blearily around the room for a second like you’d forgotten where you were.
Jack immediately turned toward the coffee machine so it didn’t look like he’d been staring at you sleep.
Smooth.
Behind him he heard you stretch, the quiet rustle of scrubs filling the silence.
“You want some?” he asked, gesturing vaguely with the stale hospital coffee pot. Casual. Totally casual.
“I’m okay right now, thanks, Dr. Abbot.” Your voice was still rough with sleep, and somehow that did something deeply unfortunate to his heartbeat. “Nothing like a suspiciously slow Tuesday to try to catch up on some sleep.”
“Yeah, don’t say that too loud,” he muttered, sitting across from you. “The universe hears arrogance.”
You smiled sleepily at him, rubbing at one eye. “Sorry Parker let me crash in here. She said she’d drag me out if a trauma came in.” You and Parker had developed a really close friendship, even before you switched to nights. He couldn’t blame Parker, honestly. You were hard not to like.
“You’re fine, kid.” His mouth twitched. “Half of this department has slept in worse places.”
You laughed softly, and he found himself mentally saving the sound before he could stop himself. There’d been a time when every conversation between you stayed strictly clinical. Differential diagnoses. Labs. Consults. Efficient. Professional.
Lately, though, he kept finding excuses to linger. A question that didn’t really need asking. A comment stretched a little longer than necessary. Tiny conversational bridges thrown between you because, against all common sense, he wanted to know you outside of medicine. Which was dangerous territory.
You were 29, of course you’d be chronically online in the way that made his brain hurt. He’d been psyching himself up for days. Keep up, old man. Don’t be the dinosaur they all think you are. He cleared his throat. “Alright. Important question.”
You looked up expectantly.
“You kids and your weird internet language. I've had cases where I don't really get what the kids are saying. So I was looking some of it up you know? To make sure I understand them better when they're in my ED? ” This was the lamest excuse he could find, and he leaned back in his chair trying to make it seem like he was genuinely curious about this and not just finding any excuse he could find to talk to you. “Hit me with some slang. I can keep up. I’ve been practicing. ”
Your eyebrows shot up immediately, delighted. “Are you serious?”
“I’m evolving.”
“This I have to see.” You sat up straighter. “Okay. What’s ‘rizz’?”
“Charisma,” he answered instantly. “Game. Flirting ability.”
“Okayyy, Dr. Abbot!” Your eyes widened a little and you gave him a lopsided smile. He tried not to look too smug.
“What about ‘brain rot’?” You carried on.
“Too much internet so your brain feels dead?” He tried to remove the unsure tone from his voice but wasn't sure if he'd managed. Why was he so nervous? It was just you.
“Been there. ‘Aura?’”
“Confidence. Presence.”
You stared at him for a beat longer now, squinting your eyes, suspicion creeping in. “Did you actually study this?”
“No.” He scoffs. A pause.
“…That sounded like a lie.”
Jack took a sip of coffee to hide the fact that it absolutely was. He had used some flashcards he still had at home. Turns out memorizing medical terms was not all that different from… whatever this was.
You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Alright then. ‘Skibidi.’”
He pointed a finger at you. “That one’s fake! It doesn’t mean anything! You people made that up specifically to torture everyone over forty.”
You nearly choked laughing. And God, there it was again—that feeling in his chest. Warm and dangerously addictive. You were just adorable, his brain supplied unhelpfully. No. Absolutely not. You were young and brilliant and kind and deserved someone uncomplicated. Someone without old scars and ghosts and a limp that acted up in the rain sometimes. Not him.
He set his coffee down on the table in front of you, leaned back, crossing his arms and looking at you with a small smile. “See? I’m not hopeless.”
You tilted your head, with sleepy amusement still lingering in your expression. “You’re trying really hard.” You finished with your small lopsided smile again. “It’s cute.”
Jack felt his ears heat and he looked away from you. Cute. Jesus Christ. He was forty nine. He was a widower and had a prosthetic leg from a war injury and a permanent scowl that made residents scatter. He’d been called intimidating. Gruff. Occasionally terrifying. One intern had once described him as “emotionally haunted in a hot way,” which he was still pretending he never heard. He was absolutely not cute.
“Alright, smartass,” he muttered, pulling out his phone mostly to regain control of the conversation. “I even got music recommendations.”
Your grin widened instantly. “No way.”
He ignored the sudden urge to throw his phone directly into the Allegheny River.
“One of the nurses made me a playlist,” he admitted reluctantly. “Current stuff.” He would never admit how much he had talked to Santos about all of this.
“You have a playlist?” you repeated, visibly trying not to laugh.
“They told me it's related to TikTok or something? That slang comes from the songs too and that I had to learn this stuff.” And then he pressed play before he could lose his nerve.
Some aggressively auto-tuned song filled the break room, all distorted bass and lyrics that sounded vaguely threatening toward women. He didn’t really like it but he was being strong and powering through.
Jack lasted about twenty seconds before he noticed your expression slowly turning skeptical. Were you laughing? No… you were scrunching your nose and looking…midly bored?
“…What?” he asked defensively
“This is… technically music.” You looked genuinely distressed trying to be polite. “But I think this is objectively terrible.”
Relief washed through him so fast it was embarrassing.
You stood abruptly and moved around the table toward him, phone already in hand. “Scoot over.”
Jack obeyed before his brain caught up, moving his chair so you could pull up another chair next to him. The second you sat beside him, your shoulder brushing lightly against his arm, every coherent thought in his head immediately packed its bags and evacuated the premises.
You smelled faintly like vanilla and the hospital soap.
This was fine. Totally fine.
You scrolled through your phone for a second before familiar sounds filled the room.
He expected whatever the algorithm had told him was “hot right now.” Instead, you played Abbey Road on your phone, and he was surprised to hear Come Together from your phone.
“Forgive the terrible speaker of my phone, I have a much better sound system at home.”
The Beatles?
Jack blinked at you. You grinned without looking up. “What? You thought I only listened to stuff from TikTok?”
“I had a whole speech prepared,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “About broadening my horizons.”
“That’s adorable.”
There was that word again.
You laughed softly, brushing your hands on your scrub pants. “That’s nice? I guess? But… I basically only listen to music from before I was born,” you confessed. “Beatles, Queen, Zeppelin, Bee Gees. Santos tries to “educate” me on newer stuff but mostly I ignore her.”
Jack stared at you.
You tugged at your scrub shirt up — there was a vintage Queen tee, the News of the World robot faded but unmistakable. “I pretty much only wear only band tees. Ask Whitaker and Santos. Thrift stores are my happy place. I have 1971 White Album pressing at home. You’d be surprised at the quality of the record, only a couple minor scratches.”
His brain finally catches up to all you've been saying. “You’re telling me I spent a week listening to that glitch-pop nightmare for nothing?”
Your smile softened.
“It's nice that you tried?” you said softly, shruging one shoulder.
And there it was again—that dangerous warmth low in his chest. Because suddenly this didn’t feel like casual break room conversation anymore. Closer. He was close enough now that he could see the different shades in your eyes beneath the fluorescent lights. Close enough to notice the faint crease sleep still left against your cheek.
Jack was a bit loss for words. “All this time I’ve been killing myself trying to figure out what people even see in this stuff—”
“Couldn't tell you, by the way.” You say with a smile his way again.
“—and you’re over here with better taste in music than I had at your age.”
“I only know current slang from talking to Santos and Javadi and the others. Otherwise I’m probably reading books or the news on my phone.”
His pulse was loud in his ears. Before he could say anything back to you the song changed.
George Harrison’s guitar filled the room, warm and aching and familiar. Something.
You smiled faintly at your phone over the opening chords. “Frank Sinatra called this the best love song ever written.”
Jack swallowed. The irony was not lost on him.
“Did he?” Jack cleared his throat, voice a little lower than he meant it to be.
“Mhm.”
You were fiddling absently with your ID badge now, suddenly quieter yourself. And for one completely insane second, Jack wondered if you could feel it too—that strange charged pull settling between you. Dangerous territory. Very dangerous. You were just sleepy. It couldn't possibly be anything else. Nope. It couldn't. So he tightened his grip on his coffee cup instead.
He wanted to say more. He wanted to lean in, to tell you that your laugh cut through his exhaustion better than any coffee. That the way you lit up talking about music just now made his day. Instead he stayed rooted in his chair, one hand gripping his coffee cup like an anchor.
“We’ve all seen you trying to speak Gen Z with Santos, by the way,” you added after a moment, glancing at him again. “You’re not nearly as out-of-touch as you pretend to be.”
He huffed softly, suddenly very confident. “You been paying attention, huh?” He couldn’t help the slight teasing.
Your eyes dropped back to your phone immediately, fingers stilling against your badge. You seemed to… were you blushing? It couldn’t be.
“You know me Dr. Abbot,” you said quietly. “I'm always paying attention.” That did not help his situation at all.
Then you looked back up, and the teasing in your eyes was just enough to save him from drowning in the moment entirely.
“Are you gonna keep pretending you’re into whatever glitch-pop nonsense Santos told you to listen to, or are we gonna put on A Night at the Opera and you’ll prove to me that you actually know all the words to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’?”
Jack gasped theatrically. “You questioning my knowledge of Queen right now?”
Your eyes gleamed with mischief.
“Shen told me that apparently you and Robby killed it at the last Pitt karaoke night,” you said. “I told him I needed proof.”
He leaned in just a fraction, “I’ll have you know I was 15 when Wayne’s World came out, thank you very much. ”
“I’’ll believe it when I see it.” You challenged with a smirk.
He leaned in more before he could stop himself, now close enough that your knees touched.
“I know every word,” he said quietly, smirk on, staring down your eyes with a confidence he didn't know he had in him right now.
“Even the operatic part?” He wasn't sure if you were just teasing or if you actually doubted him.
“C'mon kid,” he murmured, with a little shake to his head, brows furrowed, “don’t insult me.”
And for a moment neither of you moved.
Just music humming softly through terrible phone speakers. The distant hospital intercom crackling somewhere outside the break room. Your eyes holding his a beat too long, soft, teasing smile still on your face.
Jack could almost imagine crossing the remaining inches between you. Could almost imagine what it would feel like to touch your face, to kiss that teasing smile right out of existence.
Instead he leaned back in his chair before he did something catastrophically stupid.
“I should warn you,” he said roughly, “my air guitar skills are elite.”
You grinned wide immediately. “Oh, this I need to see.”
“And if Joy calls me cringe one more time, I’m filing workplace harassment paperwork.”
Your laughter filled the room again, bright and easy, the sound making his chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with the long shift. And somewhere deep down, beneath every warning siren still going off in his head, Jack realized he was already in far too deep.
SUMMARY ➩ pope struggled his whole life to make connections, until he walked into your wax shop
AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Well… my friends got a little carried away with the headcanon of Pope falling for his wax girl and I took one for the team and made it a reality
Pope couldn’t stand the smell of a doctors office.
He hated the bright lights that always seemed to be buzzing a noise nobody else was bothered by, the constant shuffling of feet and strings of words overlapping from room to curtain divided room.
He’d avoided appointments at all cost and Smurf had stopped enforcing them a long time ago, as soon as the doctors started to suggest getting his mental health evaluated almost everytime he was sat on the uncomfortable squeaking leather.
It was almost the same level of hatred he felt towards that feeling between his legs when his shaved hair would start to grow back. Too prickly and quick to irritation, no doubt worsened by his shaky hands and awkward angles while shaving.
He’d heard Nicky and J mention the concept of waxing in passing, complaining about her bikini line to the younger boy who seemed less than interest in the topic. He didn’t pay much attention to it at the time either but then it was time of week to shave again and for a moment he thought about it.
There were four shops before he found yours, the first three he walked out of almost immediately. Either too busy or using those same bright lights the hospitals did, sterile smelling chemicals that burned his nose or an obvious show of recognition on the employees face.
It couldn’t be anybody who knew him and that seemed to be almost everybody in Oceanside.
The fourth he actually managed to go through with the appointment but he could almost feel the whispers as he stood and paid after, shifting uncomfortably in place from the new type of burning sensation beneath his jeans.
If they didn’t know who he was at the start of the appointment then they definitely had realized at some point and his stomach turned a little knowing they’d seen something so intimate. He left with a gruff thank you and spent the next few months trying to forget it had ever happened, scorning the idea.
But it was hard to ignore the fact he’d only felt the sensory calmness he was looking for during the brief few days post appointment, smooth in the controllable way he couldn’t achieve with just his leg propped up in the shower and a razor.
So he tried again.
Your shop was noticeably different right from the first few steps in the entrance, a small wind chime above the door to announce his arrival instead of one of those obnoxious pitchy bells.
The building was tucked between a few others, a vape shop and some old shoe leather cleaner he was almost positive was a front for something else, but it somehow managed to keep out the negative energy of the neighborhood.
You had all the windows open which allowed both the breeze and the smell of the ocean to filter through and mix with the handful of non abrasive smelling candles and incense.
It reminded him a lot of his own small house tucked away by the sea, barren of any real warmth and decoration but still containing that large window he found himself sitting at when he couldn’t sleep.
You’d greeted him warmly, hands and body moving busily around the shop that you so clearly were running by yourself. You seemed a little overwhelmed even though it was completely empty outside of you, him, and a bored looking almost teenage girl sitting behind the front desk as she flipped through a magazine.
He wondered if you were just starting up and then wondered how long you’d been wanting to do this, what it took to get where you were because the location might have been questionable but it was clear a lot of time (and money) had gone into the small space.
Then he decided he was already managing to be weird considering you were blankly staring at him and waiting for him to answer whatever you had presumably asked while he was looking around and racking through questions in his mind.
Your face was still kind and overly patient in the kind of way that made his skin crawl, like you thought he was possibly slower to processing than a regular person.
“What?” His voice was harder than he had meant for it to be and he was sure his face tightened in the anticipation of you being patronizing.
Luckily it never came, your body language just as relaxed and welcoming as it had been since he walked in. He watched as you set down the handful of things you were carrying and took a few steps closer, his body tensing a little as his fingers tapped against the side of his legs.
“Did you have an appointment?” Your voice was somehow even softer than he thought it might be even though your image wasn’t misleading at all.
Pope waited a few seconds before shaking his head, lightly embarrassed that he had forgotten to make an appointment.
He had stopped doing it online after the first two times, realizing putting his name down on the form probably wasn’t helping the weird stares he got. Andrew may not hold much weight with people compared to Pope but Cody certainly did.
“Well that’s fine.” You gave him a reassuring smile like you could sense the inner turmoil, smoothing your hands out into your back pockets and rocking on your toes for a second. “I have plenty of availability.”
The appointment went smoother than your initial introduction and he was slightly thrown by how easy it was when it was you doing it.
You’d ran into a few awkward instances where you tried to keep a conversation going and he failed to reply in an appropriate amount of time, planning out a response in his mind but not being able to get it out before you’d clear your throat and change the subject.
He realized that was something you did often the more he came to see you, talked to him to fill the silence even though you didn’t seem sure if he was even listening.
He barely looked at you when you were between his legs even though he appreciated how detached you seemed to be from the fact he had his pants around his ankles ninety percent of the time you were around eachother. You’d never know based off of how calm and normal you always were as you spoke about random things.
When you weren’t working on the hair below, shifting around with your wax cart or shuffling through the cash register to give him change he always tried to deny, then he’d let himself look. He wasn’t too socially inept to think his stare wasn’t as unnerving as so many people, his brothers included, would tell him.
But you didn’t seem to mind.
Sometimes you’d meet his eye and seem a little taken back by the intensity in his gaze but then you’d smile softly and look back down like you were giving him the space and permission to burn holes into your head.
You were nice, unbelievably so, and he spent weeks waiting to see a crack in the facade but it never came.
The feeling built in him and by the time he realized what it was, it was already too late. He had known your schedule for days at that point, making sure you were never there alone too late at night without his truck parked across the street and he’d already had a less than pleasant conversation with the handful of homeless that haggled customers outside your window.
He understood what it was around the time he realized he was probably going to see you too often, light irritation where hair used to be and a slightly surprised look on your face when he’d show up again.
He didn’t want you to have to tell him you couldn’t wax him again so soon, so he looked into your other services.
Pope was suddenly walking around with perfectly filed nails and his pores the cleanest they’d been since he hit puberty. Sometimes you’d laugh when he booked another random appointment, he’d tense up and prepare himself for you to call him out for how obvious he was being, but you never did.
He halfway figured it would be stupid for you to turn down such a dedicated client but you never accepted his big tips so he let himself believe just for a moment that you enjoyed seeing him too.
It was a constant battle with himself to not scare you, to push himself to give you replies in conversation even if it was just a single word or a nod of acknowledgment.
Sometimes you’d go quiet and look a little far away like you were embarrassed by the one sided conversation and that rejected look on your face made him far too sick to let it continue.
You’d told him in passing when your flowers outside died that you liked orchids best so he left four pots near the doorway the next weekend.
One time you scolded your sister, the bored teenager at the front desk, while he was waiting to be called back. Your voice was hushed but the most distressed he’d ever heard you as you lectured her about how dangerous her old beater car was. He changed her wavering tires to brand new ones while she was at school.
He spent an entire appointment staring at the way one of your drawers full of aftercare materials was leaning just to return an hour before you closed with his toolbox.
“Andrew.” Your eyes widened a little like you were startled to see him, humming too loud to hear the chimes as he entered the lobby. “Is something wrong? Does it feel okay?”
You’d done his eyebrows earlier that day even though it technically wasn’t a service you actually offered but he was running out of ways to be pampered and you seemed excited to try something new. Your smile had been so big when he agreed to let you experiment on him that he probably would have been okay with you shaving them off completely.
“No.” He said gruffly but you were already walking closer to him and letting your hand come up to his face, slowing when he flinched back slightly but still rubbing your thumb over his eyebrow bone. “Everything’s fine.”
You spent a lot of time touching him for cosmetic purposes but his neck felt warm at how causally you’d done that.
It seemed like you had only just noticed the toolbox he was gripping, eyes flickering down and then back up to his face with furrowed eyebrows.
“Andrew it’s okay I can hire somebody.” You said softly with a shake of your head like it genuinely bothered you to inconvenience him.
“I’m already here.” He replied and he felt a surge of relief when you sighed in defeat and acceptance, his logic sound.
You stepped back to let him lead the way since you weren’t even really sure what he was trying to fix, standing in the doorway with your arms crossed over your chest as you watched him approach the cabinet and fall to his knee to inspect it.
“I’m paying you for this.” You said lightly and he scoffed, both at the idea of you giving him any money and the way you sounded when you tried to be firm. “Andrew seriously.”
“Give me a discount next time I… get whatever.” He waved a dismissive hand at you even though you both knew he would pay you far more than necessary for any thing he got done at his next appointment.
It was different to be alone with you in the building after hours, the bigger lights turned off allowing your various lamps to fill the space with a warmer tint. The sun had started setting and it was one of those nights he figured you’d stay late and he’d be stuck across the street in his truck to make sure you got home safe.
You seemed less inclined to make conversation now that you weren’t on the clock and had finished a whole day of work but you stayed in the room, watching him in a silence that felt comfortable.
He was surprised when you softly announced you’d close up early once he finished fixing the drawer (and three more little things he noticed on his way out). You both stood out on the sidewalk as he waited for you to finish locking up the door, turning to face him before you paused.
Your eyes drifted down and he watched your face for a few extra seconds before he was following your line of sight, tensing when he noticed you were looking at the flowers.
“Thank you.” You whispered and you were back to looking at him fondly.
It could have been your thanks for the maintenance work he’d done but he knew better, could see it in your eyes that you’d been aware he was the one giving you random gifts.
He hummed in acceptance, not able to bring himself to verbally tell you it was no problem at all.
You’d waved at him as you pulled off and he had to stand there for a long few minutes extra before he was able to pry himself off the sidewalk and across the street to his truck.
The next appointment Pope had, you were actually busy. It wasn’t uncommon to see a person or two leaving as he entered or waiting around when he finished up but he’d never seen the half dozen women currently inside, most of them surrounding the front desk you were standing behind.
You looked a little frazzled and his hands clenched around his seatbelt as he removed it, wondering if they were hassling you about something.
One of the three women glanced outside and seemed to notice him, posture stiffening. She wasn’t at all shy about the way she pointed her thumb over her shoulder in his direction and your eyes followed, still bothered in a way that made him sick.
Then you also tensed at the sight of him and now he really felt close to throwing up.
He didn’t recognize the women, he never did know the people who would sneer at him on the street or move away from him in restaurants, but it was clear they knew who he was and now they were making it their duty to inform you.
When they finally left, two of them went into the yarn store three buildings down and he realized they’d probably seen him coming in and out. Maybe even caught him coming by late at night to make sure your windows were tightly locked and leave fresh flowers biweekly.
Pope had every desire to get back into his truck and leave, never come back and pretend the connection he had built with you was nothing. It probably was nothing because you were just doing your job and he was the one coming by twice a week to waste his money and stare at you blankly.
His jaw tightened and he was moving to open his door back up when he looked at you through the window one more time, freezing when you met his eyes and gave him a soft smile.
It wasn’t quite the same as your usual ones, a little empty and struggling to meet your eyes but you still smiled and tilted your head like you were confused why he was still out there.
He waited to see the fear on your face, the understanding of who he was and what he had done.
He wouldn’t be able to stomach lying to you and he was sure the rumors could be exaggerated but most of it was true, some things still hidden that were most likely ten times worse than the average old lady could gossip about. If you asked him about what he did he’d either have to lie or disappoint you and he couldn’t do either.
But he also couldn’t bring himself to leave when you were standing there so clearly waiting for him to come in and prove those women wrong, to show you he was just the nice guy who helped you around the store and had a habit of being freshly waxed.
So he swallowed any inch of self assurance he had left and went inside, the chimes sounding unusually loud and chirpy.
He didn’t go as far in as he usually did, not approaching you behind the desk counter or going further into the waiting room. His frame was tense by the glass door, his hands curling into fist repeatedly but stopping when your eyes flickered to the movement.
He didn’t want you to be afraid of him if you weren’t already.
“The flowers were beautiful this week.” You say softly and the shattering of the silence is less painful than he expected, maybe because how warm your voice still was. “Thank you.”
He froze at the unexpected casual comment before he was nodding in acknowledgment, feeling the weight of it being the first time you directly admitted you knew it was him.
You sighed at how tense his posture still looked like you were disappointed he wasn’t able to go back to normal, walking around the counter slowly like you were afraid to startle him.
“Old ladies they… get so bored.” You continued moving until you were right in front of him and his jaw clenched when your hand was touching right above his elbow, ducking your head to try and meet his eyes until he finally flickered them up to yours. “They talk.”
You were clearly making excuses for what you had heard and he wasn’t sure if you were naive or just didn’t care about what they said to you.
He wondered how bad it was, if they’d even been able to fully convey just how rotten he was. Because you were so clearly still looking at him like you thought he was the opposite.
He didn’t get a chance to ponder over it for too long and he was sure he’d live in delusion with you if that’s what you were wanting to do, tell you the truth when you asked but keep his mouth shut otherwise. It was a bit pathetic but your hand rubbed up his arm and he decided pathetic wasn’t such a bad thing to be if it meant you smiled at him the way you were right now.
“Maybe next time let’s go pick them out together?”
Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Resident!Reader
Warnings: pure fluff, teasing, flirty Abbot.
Summary: You decide it’s finally time to pay him back for all his flirting.
The air conditioning was aggressive on a good day but today it felt personal cause they didn't turn it down when the weather outside turned cold. By 8:00 PM, you were a shivering human held together by a thin scrub top.
You had checked the weather this morning.
But nobody mentioned the temperature would drop when the sun hided.
"You're shivering 'cause of a new medical condition or are you happy to see me?" a familiar voice spoke behind you.
You didn't even have to look up from the chart you were frantically finishing.
"I'm cold, Jack," you muttered, in a slight bad mood.
Jack leaned against the desk. He looked annoyingly comfortable in a dark hoodie. He was starting his night shift just as you were reaching your breaking point.
"Tragic," he reached out, his hand briefly brushing your arm. His skin was warm against yours. "You’re freezing. Where’s your jacket?"
"In a parallel universe where I actually check the night temps before leaving the house."
"Well, next time, just consult me. I’m an expert in... keeping pretty girls warm."
"God, shut up, Abbot," you cringed and he smirked. He headed towards the staff room, giving a small squeeze to the back of your neck, a gesture of affection that had become routine.
Minutes later, you stumbled into the staff locker room. You just wanted your bag, your keys and the heater in your car turned up to the max.
You reached your locker, but stopped short when you opened it.
Inside it was an oversized black hoodie.
You looked around, the room was empty.
You glanced at your keypad lock. You hadn't told Jack your code.
But he’d watched you enter it enough times while leaning casually against the lockers, chatting you up before rounds.
He was observant; it was part of his charm, and his curse.
Pinned to the fabric was a scrap of a pad with Jack’s messy writing:
Don’t freeze to death on my watch. It’s rude.
P.S. 0-1-2-3? Seriously, doll? Change your password. Too easy.
— J.
You pulled the hoodie off your locker. It was massive.
When you pulled it on, the scent of him wrapped around you like a physical embrace.
You felt your face heat up thinking of him.
You swung your bag over your shoulder and headed for the exit.
You passed the nursing station. Jack was there.
You didn't plan it.
Maybe it was the sudden rush of warmth or the sheer audacity of him guessing your locker code.
But as you walked past, you stepped into his personal space.
Jack started to look up, a witty remark already forming on his lips but you were faster. You leaned in, your hand momentarily grazing his shoulder, and pressed a quick peck right to the corner of his mouth.
"Thank you, handsome," you murmured.
By the time he actually processed the contact, you were already heading toward the sliding glass doors of the ER.
Jack froze, his hand hovering over the keyboard, the smirk he’d been wearing since the locker room now replaced by a look of wide eyed surprise.
Behind the desk, a couple of the night shift nurses started whispering, their eyebrows raised in unison.
"Did she just—?" Dr. Shen started.
"Yeah," he breathed, finally turning back to the screen, though he didn't seem to see the words on it at all. "Yeah, she fucking did."
pope moodboard with his childhood bsf who is the onlyyyyy one who’s always put him first and so smurf HATES her for it
posting a moodboard every hour or so until my inbox is empty!
"Where are you going?" Smurf asks, but she already knows the answer.
He's going to see you. The bane of Smurf's existence, and yet someone entirely ingrained in their lives. Ever since you moved in to the neighbourhood at six, you and Pope have been inseparable.
And Smurf has certainly tried to separate you both.
Nothing has worked. No matter what scheme she stirs up, Pope always finds his way back to you. Every time she so much as offends him, he ends up back in your bed.
Today, he doesn't even respond.
She's heard mumblings from around town that Pope's been spotted at a few jewellery stores recently - and not the kinds they rob.
imagine you're jack's wife/girlfriend/partner and you're the one who opened the curtains when jack was trying to fix up his own wound.
he was startled and your eyes are wide, registering that your lover is, once again, hurt from his hobby. you've had his conversation multiple times. that you worry he's gonna get hurt real bad.
he brushes it off every time, and the argument always ends in silence. never resolved.
and now, seeing the wound on his back, seeing how exhausted he is, how it could've been him instead of his friend in that stretcher... you don't have the strength to fight anymore.
so you wordlessly snap on your gloves and help him with the wound he can't properly reach.
jack knows you're upset. he saw the tears in your eyes the moment you realized what was going on, and he doesn't say anything. he knows this is exactly what you feared would happen.
it's only when he hears your sniffles that he turns around, softening and feeling the guilt seep in.
"honey..."
you shake your head. "turn around. i'm not done."
jack sighs and obeys.
once you do finish wrapping up his wound, jack stands up and pulls you into his arms. "'m sorry."
you don't respond.
"this is the last time, i promise."
jack knows you don't really believe him -- granted, he said that the last time too. but he means it this time. he won't be the reason for your tears. he swears it.
i can't seem to finish fics these days so i'm just sharing blurbs for now
Andrew Cody doesn’t always have the words to tell you he loves you but he’s always paying attention.
| # The Scent
He knows the exact weight of your footsteps and the rhythm of your breathing, but your scent is what grounds him most. When you walked into the kitchen, the usual soft vanilla was gone.
As you leaned past him to reach for a mug, he paused. He didn't say a word, but he leaned in, his nose catching the lingering steam from your damp hair. It was bright, sharp, and new. He liked it because it was you, and he spent the rest of the morning memorizing this new version of your presence.
| # The Anxiety
Andrew notices the storm before the rain starts. He was sitting across from you, his eyes were fixed on the way your teeth caught the soft skin of your lower lip.
You weren't even aware you were doing it.
He recognized the tension in your jaw. Without breaking the silence, he reached out, his thumb gently brushing against your chin.
It was a silent command to stop. When you looked at him, he just held your gaze with a steady stare until he saw your shoulders finally drop.
| # The Family
Andrew notices the way you interact with Lena. He’s used to a world where family is a battlefield, but you make it look like a safe place.
Every afternoon, he watches the silent ritual. He notices how you don't just ask if her homework is done; you check the margins, you explain the math problems he doesn't understand, and you make sure her backpack is zipped tight for the next day.
He sees the way you protect Lena in those small moments and it makes him feel a terrifying sense of peace he never thought he’d deserve.
| # The Overload
Andrew notices that sometimes the distant roar of the ocean starts to feel like a physical pain to you.
He sees the way your eyes lose focus.
He doesn’t ask questions. He moves.
He’ll lead you toward the back bedroom, closing the curtains. He stands by the door, ensuring the rest of the Cody house stays on the other side of the wood.
He watches you finally exhale, and he stays perfectly until the world feels small enough for you to handle again.
| # The Morning Fuel
He notices that before you can be the person the world needs, you need a steaming latte.
He’s usually up long before the sun, moving through the house, he never leaves for the day until he hears the specific clatter of the espresso machine.
He’ll lean against the kitchen island, noticing the way you wrap both hands around your mug.
It’s the moment he sees your day face click into place. Only then, once he sees that first bit of caffeine hit your system, does he feel like the day has officially begun.
| # The Aftermath
Andrew usually returns from a bad job vibrating with a frantic energy. He expects the noise, the interrogation, or the cold shoulder. But you never give him those.
He’ll be sitting on the edge of the bed, his knuckles raw and his mind replaying every mistake, when he hears you.
You don’t rush in. He watches you out of the corner of his eye, noticing how you keep your hands visible and your voice a low.
When you finally reach him and ask, "Is it okay?" in that quiet way, he feels the tension snap.
He notices how you wait for his permission before touching him, treating him like something that might break rather than something that’s already broken.
| # The Tools
He notices the way you use different tools for different parts of your face, his brow furrowing in curiosity.
Eventually, he’ll reach out and gingerly touch the bristles of a fluffy brush. "What’s this one for?" he’ll ask.
He listens intently as you explain the difference between blending and setting. He’s memorizing the tools,, finding comfort in the way you take care of yourself.
As you reach for the final touch, a small shimmering tube, he leans in a little closer, his chin resting on your shoulder.
He watches you swipe the gloss over your lips.
"Looks cute," he murmurs, his eyes meeting yours in the glass.
It’s a simple observation, delivered with honest sincerity.
SUMMARY ➩ Pope only feels like himself when he’s alone with you in your apartment
AUTHORS NOTE ➩ just a small soft drabble for you! pope my sweet autistic touch starved angel and the girl he deserved to have NOT PROOFREAD
Pope could only think of you after the horrible comment Baz had made to him.
No one is ever going to have a kid with you. Ever.
He wasn’t sure why it affected him so much, why it dug deep under his chest into a part of him he hadn’t even realized was there.
Pope wasn’t as socially inept as most people might think and he knew exactly why his brother would say something like that to him, the truth behind it undeniable. He was off putting and had the strange ability to creep people out even when he was being as genuine as he possibly could be.
He’d seen it happen time and time again, a slightly crooked smiled that made people take a step back or an overly blunt statement that hurt somebody without the intent.
But never with you.
You’d been around for as long as Pope could remember, the daughter of one of Smurfs greatest connects who was constantly spending the night with Julia or helping Smurf around the house once you got a little older.
They all liked you, the younger boys would follow behind you while you did chores or ask you to help tuck them in long past the age they needed it. Baz wasn’t shy with his affection either even though his methods made Popes stomach tighten with the same type of jealously and anger he felt when it was directed at his sister.
Lucky for him, and to everyone’s confusion, you had a clear favorite when it came to Pope.
You never once treated him any different or acted like you were scared of him for even a moment. You’d keep that gentle and patient smile on your face when he didn’t deserve it and you wrote to him almost every single day when he was in prison, sending him photos that he’d stick under his pillows and doing your best to draw the sea and the shape of Lena’s eyes so he wouldn’t forget.
You never went far even when he tried to push you away and that was exactly why he wanted to see you.
His knocks on the door were familiar, even though you’d given him a key a year ago when you first moved in. He kept it in his wallet but he never dared to use it incase you had ever changed your mind and didn’t tell him.
Your smile was as soft as always when you opened the door, the smell of the dinner you were cooking coming in waves from behind you. You looked as easily beautiful as always and his legs naturally carried him forward through the door way.
“Andrew.” You breathed it out softly and your hands went to his shoulders, pushing his jacket off and sliding it down his arms so you could help free him from it. “I was hoping you’d come.”
“It’s okay?” He asked lowly even though he knew the answer, he still liked to hear it from you directly.
You took his coat and hug it up on the hook near the door that only ever held his clothing, turning back to him with the same smile and taking both of his hands in yours so you could lead him closer to the kitchen.
“It’s always okay, I was actually making your favorite.” You explain softly and he can smell it now, too distracted by the sight of you and your warm touch to place the familiar spices before.
“Thank you.” He mumbled back and it wasn’t too uncharacteristic, in fact he often showed up and didn’t say a single word at all, but your steps slowed and your lips formed a frown.
“What’s wrong?”
It unnerved him the same amount everytime when you so easily were able to read him and his moods, the only person in the world that seemed to know exactly what he was thinking and feeling no matter how stoic his face was. He sometimes wanted to ask you how you could just tell but he thought that might be stupid, maybe evidence of another human trait he was simply missing.
“Nothing.” He dismissed your worries easily and now you dropped his hands, the lack of touch making him feel a surge of nausea. He shifted closer and you sighed in understanding before placing a palm back on him, resting against his bicep now.
“Don’t do that, not here.” You half pleaded with him but it was also scolding, a reminder of what you were to him. “You talk to me.”
It took him a few minutes of silence to recount what Baz had said to him and if hearing it hurt, then seeing the way your face fell was ten times worse. You were always so empathetic towards him, crying for him on nights he couldn’t feel anything other than emptiness and anger, yelling at him to stand up for himself when the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.
And now you looked downright furious at the insult Pope had repeated in a low and hesitant voice.
“Baz doesn’t know anything.” You say back firmly with a shake of your head, a rare tone of voice from you considering you’re normally so gentle. “He’s a dick. He treats Lena terribly anyways so what does he know about being a father?”
Pope doesn’t say anything as you ramble on, his lips pursing as he resists the familiar frustrating urge to defend his brother. He isn’t sure why he still feels it after all this time but it’s like second nature, the same type of instinct that ended up with him in prison for three years.
“Andy, you know that’s not true right?” Your voice is back to its normal sweetness now as you duck down a little to try and get his eyes to focus on you, smiling faintly when it works.
“Do I?” It’s quiet and not really self deprecating, genuinely curious on what he’s supposed to feel in this situation.
“Any woman would be lucky to have kids with you.” Your eyebrows furrow like you’re confused on how he doesn’t understand that and your determination rattles him a little.
“Any woman?” He repeats it and your face falls a touch, his eyes narrowing as he tries to understand what emotion you’re attempting to cover up.
You give him a reassuring smile and nod but it doesn’t meet your eyes, sad sad eyes that make him want to throw up. He doesn’t understand what about that makes you so sad and he feels too stupid to ask for clarification, knowing he should just be able to read you like you so easily can read him.
He doesn’t get to reflect on it long before your arms go around his neck for a tight embrace and he returns it eagerly, locking his behind your lower back and tugging you close so tight your feet nearly lift off the ground.
“Needed you.” He whispers as he tucks into your neck and he can both feel and hear the small fond laugh you let out.
“I’m here.” You return and it’s so quiet it pains him, wishing he could ask you to scream it out so everyone could understand. Your head twists and your nose brushes his jaw in a way that makes his spine shiver. “Made your favorite, come eat.”
You eat dinner in silence but you don’t seem at all bothered by the quiet, understanding like always that he just needs to sink into his own head sometimes.
He almost can’t stand the feeling of being around you, the constant under the skin itching whenever you’re not touching him and the headache of trying to be someone he’s not to make himself easier to be around. It’s only a headache because it doesn’t work on you, you see through him immediately and encourage him to be himself despite that being the exact thing he’s always ran from.
You’re as relaxed as always while you do the dishes and he stares at the side of your face, like you’re not at all bothered by the intense glare.
Occasionally you glance over and smile softly when you find he’s still watching you closely.
He tenses when your phone rings, one look at the clock on your microwave telling him it’s an odd hour for anybody to be calling. You don’t get many calls in general, your family and upbringing being similar enough to his that you scarcely give out your number.
You’re stiff for the same reasons but your shoulders relax when you retrieve the device from your pocket and see the contact name, placing it to your ear and sending Pope a calming look.
“Hey Deran.” You greet neutrally and his back loses the tension although his eyebrows furrow in question. “No sorry, he’s not here. I’ll tell him to give you a call if I see him.”
Deran continues saying something muffled on the other line and you give Pope a hand gesture that insinuates he’s talking too much which would have made him huff a laugh if he wasn’t so irritated by his brother bothering you.
You hang up after a soft goodnight and dry your hands before approaching his stiff frame, rubbing your palms up his biceps until you reach his shoulders.
“Relax. He’s just wondering where you were staying tonight.” You explain in a whisper and his eyes close at the rubbing gesture. “He gets worried when you disappear. I wish you’d just tell him you’re with me.”
“Don’t want them knowing where you live.” He murmurs back instinctively truthful and you sigh, reading between the lines. You know he’s not actually worried about his brothers knowing where your apartment is or harming you at all.
“If Smurf wanted to know where I am then she’d already know.” You respond and his eyes snap open, although not necessarily surprised that you sourced out the true discomfort he was having.
He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds so you shift even closer, holding his face gently which makes him let out a deep breath.
Pope doesn’t think he’s ever been touched in the way you touch him. He’s felt Smurfs hands all over him even when she’s not in the room, prodding and poking and silently placing her control over his very being with her affection and he’s had a handful of pained sexual encounters that left him throwing up in alleyways afterwards but he’d never had this except for you.
So gentle and never demanding anything from him in return. You don’t want him to touch you back or give you some sort of pleasure, you don’t even want him to let his guard down or weaken for you. There’s just the comfort and reassurance of your presence when it’s easy to forget.
His eyes meet yours and you shake your head before he can start.
“I don’t want another lecture about not understanding your mom because I do.” You whisper it like Smurf could possibly be overhearing your conversation, a precaution that is more for his paranoia than your own. “I’m not downplaying what she can do. But I’m safe and even more so when you’re here with me.”
“I’m not always here.” He nearly growls out in his own frustration and your eyes somehow soften even more.
“But you are right now so please just…” You sigh and his heart clenches. “Be here with me and pretend that doesn’t exist for now.”
It’s easier said than done but Pope would do just about anything to please you so he tries his best, swallowing the urge to triple check the locks and windows even though he knows you wouldn’t judge him for it.
You don’t last long trying to finish up the dishes before you started to yawn and he encourages you to go to bed with a gentle hand on your lower back guiding you to the hallway, one of the rare times he initiates the contact.
He finishes them for you and then stands in the living room for a good twenty minutes, fingers drumming against his leg and jaw clenching until his teeth ache while he contemplates leaving.
He knows you hate when he leaves without saying goodbye first, hates when he leaves in general. You are probably laying in bed still wide awake just so you can hear the sound of the door closing, not shying away from telling him tomorrow how it disappoints you every time.
It takes a lot out of him to turn and head back down the dark hallway even though it’s all worth it when he sees the way your eyes light up when he makes a gruff noise indicating he wants you to scoot over and make room for him in the bed.
Pope can never sleep and he doesn’t expect it anymore, he’s used to the constant exhaustion headaches and the stiffness in his neck when he dozes off sitting up too many times. Like most things in his life, you’re the exception.
Maybe it’s the way your nails drag against his clothed back or the fact he can hear your breathing level out and know you’re safe and alive right beside him, but he’s only able to drift off when sleeping in your bed with you. The nightmares don’t ever let up but they’re much more manageable when he can jolt awake and find himself still in your room, your arms wrapped around him as you instinctively shift closer throughout the night.
Tonight, it’s not the nightmares that wake him up.
It’s the sharpness of your breath as you sit up, your hands rubbing over his chest to shake him lightly as you whisper his name. He’s hit with confusion and panic as he sits up but then he understands when he hears the sharp knocks coming from your front door.
You never have visitors in general that aren’t him but it’s nearing three in the morning now and nothing good can come out of the extensive knocking the continues impatiently.
Pope is up and out of bed, ignoring your whispers of protest as he grabs his gun from the chair in the corner of the room.
“Pope.” You stand up to chase after him but he turns around in the dark hallway and gives you a stern look, pointing silently back to the room and not walking towards the door until you deflate and nod in defeat.
He’s completely tense as he nears the front door where the knocking hasn’t ceased and he halfway considers just firing through the door and dealing with the consequences afterwards but he figures you’d be pissed if he ruined the welcome mat.
“Open the goddamn door already.”
His freezes for a completely different reason once the voice registers and now he can hear you scoffing and stomping down the hallway. You brush past him and throw open the door, glaring at the sight of his three brothers standing in the outdoor corridor.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” You’re practically hissing as they come inside like it’s not the middle of the night. You don’t even bother stopping Pope once he finally unfreezes and roughly shoves the nearest brother backwards, which happens to be Deran.
“We called you a hundred times man.” Baz shouts, wincing when you shush him aggressively and throw a pillow from your couch. “You said he wasn’t here.”
His finger points accusatorially at you for about half a second before Pope is smacking it out of the air and stepping in front of you, blocking you from the others line of vision.
You sigh from behind him and rub a hand up his arm gently, coaxing him to relax and take a few steps back before they end up fighting in the middle of your tiny living room.
Craig shoots a look at Deran when he notices the touch that neither of you miss and Pope glares at them both. He almost feels sick from the intrusion even though it’s completely selfish. His brothers know you’re close to each other and can see the bond you have but this is different.
This is supposed to be the place he can go to escape from it all, his own separate world with you where he doesn’t have to be Pope Cody but instead he can just be Andrew who gets his favorite dinner cooked for him by a beautiful girl before they go to sleep peacefully.
A sleep so brutally interrupted.
“Listen we didn’t want to come.” Baz softens and does that tone of voice he always does when he wants to control Pope easier, speaking slowly like he’s having to use all his energy to pretend they’re equals. “But it’s important. We need you at the house.”
Pope is frozen as he considers, distracted enough to not notice the way Craig is eyeing the untouched couch and your messy sleep hair. You raise your eyebrows at him which makes him finally break and start to laugh at the apparent absurdity of Pope clearly having been sleeping in your bed with you.
“Just go with them.” You say gently with a tired sigh, stepping back closer to him so you can touch his elbow lightly and get him to focus. “Call me when you’re done or use your key.”
You ignore Deran whispering something to Craig about the key comment, rolling your eyes when Pope tenses up again under your touch. Finally his eyes meet yours and he hesitates before nodding in agreement, nostrils flaring a little from his irritation.
You look so tired and understanding and he considers what it means that he’d probably kill his brothers if it meant he got to get back into bed with you for a few more hours.
It’s easy to forget about his own homicidal inner dialogue when you’re leaning up on your tiptoes to place a kiss against the corner of his mouth. You weren’t shy with your affection but that was a stretch, even for you, and for once the others don’t seem to want to laugh about it.
They looked just as thrown as Pope feels when you give him a sheepish smile and head back to your bedroom, trusting him to get them out of there and lock up before he leaves like it’s his apartment too.
—
Pope doesn’t call you that night and you don’t hear the lock turn at any point, no bed dipping under his weight or his arms around you when you wake up.
You try not to think much of it especially knowing how hesitate he can be, almost constantly shy even though you’ve known him for longer than you can remember. He’s not one to make the first move even if you had invited him back, most likely doubting himself on if you truly meant it for the entire night.
But two days passed and you started to feel like something was wrong.
It wasn’t completely unusual but typically he’d atleast let you know before he was going to get busy or he sent out of town on some random Smurf errand. His brothers hadn’t looked too spooked the night they came to get him but your mind was filling with possibilities.
Maybe it was a job gone wrong, either he’d gotten hurt or locked back up. You weren’t really sure how you’d be able to handle Pope being back in prison, knowing how hard it was for him the first time.
This line of thinking led to you heading over to the Cody house, something you tried to avoid now that you were an adult. Especially by yourself, unable to remember the last time you’d gone over there without your father or Pope to accompany or invite you.
Deran was in the kitchen when you walked in and he gave you a heavy look, riddled with such guilt that your stomach turned and you had to slow down to swallow the bile building in your throat.
“He’s here?” You croaked out and he nodded with a sigh, gesturing his arm back towards where Popes room was.
You hadn’t been down the hallway in a few years, unable to stand it when it was empty while he was locked up and recently he’d been solely coming over to your place. He’d told you one night quietly in bed that he didn’t want you around Smurf anymore, a desperate plea that you didn’t fully understand.
You knew what she could do and you knew her influence on Pope but you had your own blood running through Oceanside that left you a little bit more protected than most people. Smurf didn’t scare you but you knew she scared him so you did what he asked and stayed away.
He was standing up when you walked in, pulling a shirt over his head full of wet curls like he’d just gotten out of the shower. Your lips pursed as you stood in the doorway, unmoving as his eyes landed on you and he jumped a little.
You watched as he naturally relaxed at the sight of you before stiffening completely like he remembered the reason you’d be standing outside his room with that pained look on your face.
You’re across the room before he can say anything even though you figured he wasn’t going to speak much anyways, your typically gentle hands shoving roughly at his chest. He winces at the shove but doesn’t resist, barely budging until you push him one more time and he stumbles backwards a few steps.
“You disappear.” You shove again. “You don’t call, you don’t text me.” Each statement is emphasized with a push until he’s had enough, gripping your wrist tightly and huffing a little as he stares down at you.
Your eyes are pained and angry, an expression he hasn’t seen on your face in nearly a decade. You were the one touch of gentleness he had in this world and he felt terrible for pulling a gross emotion like this out of you.
“Do you even care that I worry about you?” You laughed bitterly as you stared up at him and his stoic face, searching for answers in the blank look. “Can you fucking say something?”
It takes him a few seconds, holding your wrist tightly still until you finally relax and let out a defeated breath. He only lets you go once he knows you’re not going to fight him anymore and you step away as soon as you’re freed from his grasp.
“I’m sorry.” He rasps it out and follows you as you try and create some distance, eyes a little pleading. You give him a stern look, wanting him to cut it out before you fold as easily as always when he gets like this.
“You can’t keep doing this to me Pope.” Your voice is as stern as it can be with the knowledge you’d let him do whatever he wanted for the rest of your lives.
He frowns deeply and you know why before he says it, knows how much he hates to hear that nickname from you. It slips sometimes when you’re not thinking, especially when you’re back in this nearly haunted house and so upset with him.
You feel bad despite your anger and stop walking backwards, letting him close the distance until your hands can run over his back. He tucks his head down into your neck and lets out a breath so heavy it makes the hairs on your arms raise.
“Should’ve called.” He whispers against your warm skin and you can fill in the blanks on your own.
You can see the bags under his eyes and the way his sheets are tucked neatly like nobody has touched them in weeks, the fact he was wincing while pulling his shirt on like something on his body was hurting more than usual.
You didn’t even want to hear him say what they’d been up to the last few days even though you knew he’d tell you as soon as you asked, never lying to you even if it hurt him to admit some things. The embarrassment and guilt on his face always made you regret asking, like a good dog who had bit somebody without meaning to.
He picks his head up at your silence and your eyes lock, pressing forward until your foreheads are leaned against each others. You sigh and bunch the fabric of his shirt up in your fist, making his breath stutter a little.
“Just come home okay?” You whisper as your eyes shut for a moment from sheer desperation.
He’s nodding immediately, still going until you open your eyes again and see him clearly, making sure you understand that he knows what you mean by home and he’s willingly to go with you no matter the consequences.
summary: John has no idea whether or not the rumors are true. This is the morning when he finds out the truth.
pairing: Jack Abbot x doctor!reader
note: Just a quick something. I'll have to write a Shen x OC fic too.
If Abbot wasn’t circling you like a vulture all the time, John would have probably asked you out a million times, just until you finally give him a shot. But he knows better than to cross the other doctor, so he usually stays back and waits for the moment when you have enough and tell him to fuck off. That moment, though, never comes. In fact, you seem to enjoy the attention, and he’s not the only one who noticed.
Doctors, nurses, everyone has something to say about the two of you, and they also keep telling him not to look like a kicked puppy just because you seem to choose someone else despite his best efforts.
You’re neck-deep into charting while he stands there with a stupid smile on his face, sipping his usual coffee’s remains. In the past five minutes, he’s been thinking about what to tell you, how to spark a conversation that could casually lead to you telling him about what’s the deal between you and Abbot. Because he needs to know, he needs to understand what’s going on to be able to move on.
So, he takes a deep breath and pulls a swivel chair next to yours. “Need help?” he asks casually, flashing a friendly smile at you. He doesn’t want to be flirty, at least not intentionally, he would rather keep things on safe waters in case Abbot shows up. He’s not terrified of him, but he surely wouldn’t want to get on his bad side.
You look up with a tired smile, then shake your head. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks, I appreciate the offer,” you say with a warm laugh.
Maybe now – maybe now would be the right time to bring up the idea of having breakfast together after the shift. Just to vent, definitely not because he wants it to be a date. If it turns out to be that, then he would be the last one to complain about it. “I was thinking,” he begins lightly, waiting for you to look back at him from the screen you glanced back to, “why don’t we grab breakfast after we’re done here? I’d rather get drunk, but it would be too early for that,” he adds cheerfully.
“Tempting, because I’m starving right now, and I’ve been daydreaming about proper breakfast for over an hour now. Every time I close my eyes, I see waffles in front of me,” you admit as you scratch the back of your neck.
John lets out a laugh as he nods. “Alright, I know the perfect place for that,” he assures you.
Before you could respond, Abbot shows up behind you, as if he could sense his attempt at asking you out on what’s definitely not an official date. You can’t see him, but you sure sense his presence, because you instinctively turn your head to see who’s behind you. But Abbot doesn’t pay much attention to you, he’s busy watching him with narrowed eyes, as if he was giving him a silent warning to back off.
“Hey, Abbot,” you say happily as you flash a wide smile at him. “Why are you so serious? We only have two hours left of this shift, you should be much happier at this time of the night.”
He watches as the other doctor puts his hands on the back of your chair, and he doesn’t miss the way his forefinger gently pokes the back of your neck. “Remember the kid they brought in after the car crash?” he asks, earning a nod from you and John as well, because he’s paying attention to everyone apparently. “He just died. There was nothing I could do to save him.”
Shit, that’s bad. “Have the parents arrived?” John wonders.
Abbot nods. “Yeah, it wasn’t an easy conversation.”
“I’m so sorry,” you tell him, your mood worsening from hearing such news. “Hey, we were thinking about having breakfast after the shift, why don’t you join us?”
Abbot’s gaze shifts from you to him, but he doesn’t say anything directed at John, his words are meant for you. “I should probably get home without detours.”
A sigh of relief leaves the younger doctor at that, but this state doesn’t last long, because you suddenly speak up. “You’re probably right. But we should still pick up something to eat, because the fridge is nearly empty, as I’m planning to do grocery shopping later today,” you tell him.
Wait a second, hold on. We should pick something up? And whose fridge are you even talking about? God, it’s annoying. Are you two together? Can it be that what so far has seemed to be nothing more but innocent flirting is a real relationship where you live together?
“You okay, Shen? You look like you are about to faint,” you say worriedly.
“Yeah, I’m good. But I’ll go, check on a patient,” he tells you with a forced smile as he puts down his coffee and hurries away.
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