I'm 37, a little gay, a little straight, and a lot nerd. I like fanfiction and bookbinding. And I am totally going to over share pictures of said fanfiction fan binds.
I’m not going to defend Robby’s behavior towards Samira because it was wrong and cruel and deeply, deeply unprofessional. But I also find the reactions to it incredibly ironic. The Pitt is at its core about extreme burnout in the healthcare field, particularly amongst emergency medicine personnel, and how that ripples out and affects absolutely everyone around them—their colleagues, their relationships, the entire community. Over and over again, the Pitt asks of its audience: even in the face of extreme and sometimes unforgivable behavior, can you find the same empathy that is constantly and endlessly demanded of our healthcare providers? And for so many it seems like the answer to that question is a definitive, categorical no. Which funnily enough, is exactly the point the show is trying to make.
funnily enough, I've reached that point in E.R. where Mark Greene loses his mojo too (after he was assaulted in the bathroom).
And of course there's the fall of Andrea Fanti in that flashback episode of DOC S3.
And to me, there's nothing more heartbreaking than seeing a truly kind and empathic person - in all cases here, doctors, who've made it their *jobs* in life to help others - breaking and losing that spark.
If you ever meet someone like this in RL, someone who you know is usually kind but for some reason is failing at it today, cut them some slack. Even better, try in turn to reach out. They're going through some sh*t.
As someone who worked in hospitals, including emergency departments, for years, I think it can be very hard for people outside that world to grasp what it actually does to you. You are dealing, over and over, with people having the worst day of their lives. But you are not allowed to have the worst day of your life in response, because you have to come back and do it all again tomorrow, and the day after that, and the night after that, for another 12 hours or more, with no real end in sight.
At a certain point, some degree of emotional shutdown is not cruelty so much as survival. Burnout is recognised by exhaustion and cynicism or psychological distancing from work, and trauma-related stress can involve feeling detached or emotionally numb. In other words, losing easy access to empathy is not some bizarre moral failure. It is often a sign that a person has been carrying too much, for too long.
I’ve seen people say that The Pitt is unrealistic because it piles everything healthcare can throw at someone into one day. But sometimes that is what the job is. There were shifts where I saw so many awful things that I learned very quickly not to describe them casually to people outside healthcare, because you would see the horror on their faces immediately. And the truly brutal part is that those were not once-in-a-career nightmare days. I can think of dozens of them. Then you go home, sleep if you can, and come back to do it again.
So yes, when a usually kind and empathetic person starts failing to access that part of themselves, sometimes what you are seeing is not who they “really are” at last. Sometimes you are watching someone run out of skin. And I think The Pitt understands that better than a lot of viewers do.
summary: getting pregnant is a lot harder than expected. so is trying to surprise your husband. but, thankfully, you get some good news just in time to catch him off guard. if only you'd paid a little more attention, then you might have seen his surprise coming.
warnings: age gap (r is mid 30s, jack is 50), established relationship, afab reader, reader is an attending, domestic bliss, arguing but it's basically foreplay, cursing, teasing (not the sexual kind), infertility and ivf mentions, anxiety, jack truly is the best husband in the world, pregnancy (DUH), ultrasounds, getting blood drawn but it's very vague, cockblocked by robby, my best attempt at humor, friendly competition, they're still trying to surprise each other, oral sex (f receiving), face sitting, jack abbot EATS, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (what's the point if she's already knocked up), prone bone, mentions of semi public sex, nearly having semi public sex, mentions of oral sex (m receiving), like really heavy on the breeding kink even though reader is already pregnant, he's lowkey a little mean but its hot
an: ok I love Shawn, but my biggest fear would be my kids coming out ginger. idrk why, but the idea of carrying a child for 9 months, only for it to come out with orange hair is a little horrifying. sorry to all the gingers out there
this is early, but I got too excited and couldn't keep it to myself
vaccinate your kids
Sitting at the dining room table with pancakes, eggs, and bacon piled on your plates for a 4pm breakfast, both of you still cozy in your pajamas, you’re starting to think it might have all been in your head.
Your husband of 4 fucking years had no idea that you’d been scheming all this time, trying to surprise him.
Tickets to the AC/DC reunion tour 2 years ago? Nope, he’d seen the confirmation email pop up on your phone, not that you’d known that at the time, when you’d let him borrow it to call his own (he tended to lose his pretty often). He’d then casually remarked a few days later he couldn’t wait to go, leaving you sputtering over a chart, wondering how in the world he knew as he walked away.
Then there’d been the bronco. The old, broken down, sage green bronco, parked a few streets over that he kept casting longing glances at, followed by ‘what I wouldn’t give to fix that up.’
Jack had never been one to splurge on himself, but you had been itching to find him a hobby that didn’t include being shot at, so you’d bought it, hurrying home to make sure there was space to park it in the driveway. The former owner would be dropping it off in an hour.
But then, 30 minutes later, Jack walked through the door, dropping a kiss to your cheek, thanking you for the car. You’d wanted to scream.
What you didn’t know was that Jack had finally given in, dropping by the neighbor’s to see how much he wanted for it, only to find out his darling wife had already gotten it for him.
But the absolute worst, by far, had been right before your wedding. Jack was sweet and rather sentimental, preferring memories and photos to material objects. So, you’d decided to start a scrap book. It was a little girly, and you’d worried he wouldn’t love it as much as you did, but you still went ahead with it. You’d filled it with all the pictures the two of you had taken over the first 3 years of your relationship, with the last decorated page dedicated to your engagement party. The book was barely a quarter full and you’d practiced a sappy speech in the mirror about filling the rest of the pages over the rest of your lives.
And everything had gone according to plan. You worked on it in secret for weeks, and as far as you knew, he was none the wiser.
But then, as the two of you sat in bed the night before your wedding, just before you were going to show him the damn book, Jack had simply looked up from whatever western novel he was reading and very nonchalantly asked if you were ever going to let him see your scrapbook. When asked how he knew about that, he simply shrugged and said, “I pay attention.”
You still gave your sappy speech, watched his eyes shine with unshed tears, and let him lay you down and fuck you one last time as your fiance.
And as you laid out these examples, explaining the steps you’d gone to to keep the secrets, Jack simply sat there, slowly chewing his bacon while his eyes screamed ‘this woman needs help.’
“-but I finally did it,” you were smug, alternating between cutting your pancakes into smaller bits and gesturing wildly with your cutlery. “I finally managed to actually surprise you!”
Your eyes strayed to the box, still open on the table, your IUD shining in the late afternoon sunlight. You’d done it. He had been totally, 100% caught off guard. It was straight out of left field, he’d never seen it coming.
“I was suspicious.”
That was all he said, eyes still focused on you, lips quirking up as he took a bite of his eggs.
All you could do was sit in wide eyed silence for a moment.
“Bullshit you knew,” you were starting to spiral, wondering where you’d slipped up. Maybe someone had snitched? But no, only Joan knew about your plan and she’d never have given you up.
The bastard shrugged. “You said you were cramping-”
“That is a totally reasonable comment from a woman in her 30s with a uterus.”
“Yeah,” he laughed under his breath, pointing at you with a strip of bacon. “But you brought up your IUD. You should have just said your stomach hurt, ‘cause then I asked Robby if you were doing ok.”
You hadn’t even told Robby about your plan and he still fucked it up.
You groaned, head dropping into your hands.
“And he said you disappeared for an hour to get a ‘pap smear’,” the grin on his face as he made the air quotes had you wanting to throttle him. “So I asked Tina from Obstetrics if you were ok. She said she had no idea. Apparently, you spent an hour in an exam room with Joan.”
“You called my fucking gynecologist to confirm my alibi?”
“I didn’t know it was an alibi,” Jack’s shoulders were shaking with the laughter he was holding in. It was starting to become infectious. You couldn’t stop the smile slowly creeping onto your face, despite the niggling irritation. “At the time, I was just checking on my wife, being the wonderful husband that I am. So imagine my surprise when there is not a single record of your little visit anywhere.”
“Oh, so you got Tina to break HIPAA for you?”
“Sweetheart,” his eyes rolled ever so slightly. “I am your emergency contact, your boss, your husband, and the only person you put down on your HIPAA release form.”
“Robby’s actually my boss,” was your only counterpoint, and even as you grumbled it out, you knew it was weak.
“Yeah, when he’s not having a nervous breakdown,” Jack snorted, picking up his coffee to take a sip.
“But that doesn’t mean you knew,” you redirected. Robby’s mental state was the absolute last thing you wanted to discuss during your 4 day long husband’s birthday/attempted conception weekend.
“Mmm no, I never said I knew,” Jack leaned back, legs spread and posture relaxed as he looked across the table at you.
“Ok, fine you didn’t explicitly say you knew what I was planning. You just heavily implied you did.”
“I did not imply anything. I said I knew you spent an hour alone in an exam room with your best friend who is a gynecologist and that you were keeping something from me,” his eyes darted down to the box, tracing over its contents. “I had some suspicions, some good, some bad, but I didn’t know. Not then.”
“What do you mean ‘not then’?” You sat up straighter in your chair. The oversized, decades old West Point t-shirt that had once been his slipped off your shoulder. You tugged it back into place, choosing to ignore how his eyes immediately snapped to the tiny bit of skin that had been exposed in favor of your interrogation.
Jack shrugged, his eyes avoiding yours. “I didn’t know then.”
Your brow furrowed into a glare. You very rarely had any success trying to intimidate your husband, but now it seemed like he was trying to hide something.
“Jack Abbot tell me what you knew and when you knew it. Now.”
He let out a breath, shaking his head as he grabbed his coffee mug again. You watched him drain the rest of the lukewarm liquid, eyes tracing the movement of his throat as he swallowed. He set the mug down gently, eyeing you like you might start swinging the butter knife still in your hand.
“Alright,” his arms folded over his chest, those obnoxious biceps of his straining against the plain black t-shirt he wore. “I knew you had some sort of-” He paused for a moment, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. “Gynecological… something going on.”
You snorted, shaking your head and gesturing for him to go on.
“I knew you were planning something last night because you insisted on making dinner, and we usually go out for birthdays.”
“Ok, but that’s not-” He leveled you with the look that made residents want to wet themselves in fear. After years of living with him, though, all it made you do was sigh in resignation and sit back in your seat, allowing him to continue.
“And then you wouldn’t let me touch you,” you had to agree, that was a little suspicious. The two of you weren’t exactly known for being able to keep your hands off each other for very long. “So I knew something was up.”
“I never would have guessed you were going to quite literally give me your IUD,” once again, his eyes found the box. “You got me there, but I figured whatever you were planning probably had something to do with that.”
“So I did surprise you,” you were immensely satisfied with yourself. After all these years. After all these attempts, both big and small, you'd finally succeeded with probably the biggest surprise.
“You surprised me, yes,” Jack’s smile was twisting into something wicked. “I definitely was not expecting you to hand me your contraception and beg me to knock you.”
Your cheeks flushed at the reminder of exactly how last night had gone. “I did not beg.”
“Oh you most certainly did,” his forearms rested on the table, body shifting forward as he pinned you beneath his hungry gaze. “It was only a matter of time. I’ve known you wanted a kid for a while. You haven’t been exactly subtle, sweetheart.”
“I haven't been subtle?” Your eyes were wide as you looked at him in disbelief. “You haven’t been subtle, Jack.”
“Yes I have,” he was frowning now, that smug smirk melting off his face. “I kept that shit to myself.”
“Ok, yes, you didn’t say anything, but you didn’t have to,” you placed the cutlery down on your forgotten plate, too engrossed in arguing to focus on your pancakes. “It was painfully obvious!”
He was shaking his head, mouth opening to counter, but you pressed on.
“You were practically salivating when we babysat my nephew! You literally have to be dragged away every time we get a peds case at work and you damn near get hearts in your eyes whenever I hold a baby,” there was no way he could deny any of this, and the look on his face was telling you he knew it, too. “When I told you my IUD was starting to act up, you were practically begging me with your eyes to get rid of it!”
“Begging you,” he was shaking his head. “With my eyes?”
“Yes, with your eyes.”
“Ok and what about you?” He was going on the offensive now, gaze sharpening.
“What about me?” You were leaning forward now, too. The both of you face to face across the table, meals completely forgotten.
“What about that one time we had the 6 month old with pertussis and the antivaxxer mom?”
You vividly remembered that incident from about a year ago. You’d went off on the mom, yelling about how, if this beautiful child was yours, you’d have never put her in danger over something so selfish. Jack had to drag you away, locking you in the on-call room to cool down while Ellis talked the mom down from leaving AMA.
You’d avoided any more punishment than a stern talking to from Gloria, but you’d been taken off the little girl’s care team. It had been an embarrassing outburst, but you didn’t regret it. Maybe you hadn’t gone about it in the right way, but everything you’d said had been correct and you still stood by that. Hopefully, your very loud attempt at shaming the woman had done the trick.
“I just wanted what was best for my patient,” you looked away. That wasn’t the sole reason for the incident, and you both knew it. The way your voice had broken as you’d yelled, ‘if she was mine’ was telling. And so were the tears in your eyes that night as you’d cried to Jack about the poor little girl, sobbing about how you could never put your own child in danger like that.
“Yeah, ok,” Jack didn’t push anymore, but his smirk was back, albeit softer at the edges. “And what about that time you got down on your knees for me in the on-call room after we had that kid with the broken leg?”
That you did not have a good excuse for. In your defense, your birth control just meant you couldn’t get pregnant. It did not stop you from ovulating, or suffering through the related side effects, including the irresistible urge to climb your husband like a tree any time he did something remotely attractive.
And in this case, you were in the middle of that particular part of your cycle. Watching him put the cast on the 8 year old girl who’d fallen off her bike hadn’t been what got you going. No, instead, it was the way he talked to her, calming her down and getting her to chatter about her favorite things. He gave her his undivided attention, wholeheartedly and enthusiastically talking about ponies and unicorns and fairies.
All of that had your mind drifting, imagine that it was your little girl he was talking to. In your mind, you were home, watching your husband talking to a little girl with your eyes and his (formerly) ginger curls.
Imagining him, just how incredible of a father he would be, had that fire that had been simmering just beneath your skin all day exploding into an inferno. So, the first chance the two of you had, you’d yanked him away, pulling him into a private room and dropping to your knees.
“Yeah, I remember that,” your blush was back, gaze dropping to the plate still sitting in front of you.
“Do you remember what you said before you sucked the soul out of my body, 15 feet away from our coworkers?”
Your whole body was on fire, embarrassment and desire warring just beneath the surface. Maybe you could tempt him back into your bedroom, distracting him from whatever this conversation and degraded into.
“C’mon, baby,” there it was, that insufferable, cocky tone of voice that told you Jack knew exactly how you were feeling. You refused to look up. “Tell me. What did you say to me right before you begged me to cum down your throat?”
“I said-”
“Look at me.”
You swallowed hard, peaking up through the curtain of your hair to face your husband. He was relaxed, sitting back in his seat, legs spread wide beneath the table. He was smirking, looking every bit the flirtatious bastard you knew him to be.
But his eyes were dark and hungry, chest rising and falling suspiciously faster than simply sitting down to eat breakfast warranted.
“I said,” your eyes were locked on his, entranced by the way his pupils slowly expanded. “‘You’re so good with kids.’”
“What else did you say?” He cocked his head slightly.
“‘It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.’”
His smile grew even more salacious. “That’s how I knew you wanted me to knock you up.”
You shifted in your seat, your sleep shorts feeling much too damp for comfort. Jack knew, his eyes tracking the movement hungrily.
You stood, stepping away from the table and starting down the hallway towards your bedroom as you called over your shoulder, “Yeah, well, you haven’t gotten me pregnant yet.”
Jack was hot on your heels in an instant.
The next 7 months of your life were spent in a seemingly never ending cycle of frustration, pleasure, irritation, and competition.
You hadn’t gotten pregnant after Jack’s birthday weekend which, while expected, had still been a little disappointing. The two of you were doctors, you knew that your body needed time to reset after removing your contraception.
For 7 months, you’d taken a test every Monday morning when the two of you arrived home, and every Monday morning that test was negative.
Jack, once again living up to his title as World’s Best Husband, gave you the control. When you’d broken down 4 months in without any sign of a baby any time soon, he’d held you close and told you he’d do whatever you wanted. He said it was your choice, if you wanted to go through testing, to give IVF a try, if you wanted to stop trying for a while.
You’d said no to all of them, apologizing for the tears. So many other couples tried for so much longer. It had only been 4 months. It was too early for the interventions or to give up. You were being dramatic.
“We’re not other couples,” Jack had said. “Don’t compare our journey with this to theirs. It’s not one size fits all, and there’s no time limit on this.”
He’d calmed you down and you’d resolved to not let it get to you. You’d agreed to stop taking a test once a week, too. You had time. If things were still stagnant around the 9 month mark, the two of you would do fertility testing and then, if necessary, try IVF. You’d agreed to stop taking a test once a week, too.
Jack had agreed, kissing your head and telling you that now that you had a gameplan, things would go smoothly. He also reminded you just how enjoyable the trying process could be, even if you hadn’t gotten the results you wanted yet.
During the time since his birthday, you’d been busy with more than just work and baby making. You’d made it your mission to try and surprise him again. He’d caught on quickly, and the two of you had entered a little war of sorts.
There’d been no official rules of engagement established, no conversation about exactly what was going on, but there seemed to be a mutual agreement on what did and didn’t count. The diet coke you were craving that appeared on your station was too small and didn’t count. Neither did the sandwich you’d made in secret before work and left on the break room table with his name on it.
But the new set of woodworking tools you’d left on his workbench in the garage did. Except, he’d shown you the screenshot of the order confirmation email he’d taken days before when you’d gloated that he hadn’t expected that.
“Shouldn’t have left your email logged in on my laptop, sweetheart.”
The dress you’d been eying last week when the two of you went out definitely counted, given the price tag in the hundreds. You were happy when it appeared in your closet, and even happier when you got to tell him you’d known since he’d bought it 3 days ago.
“Not really a surprise when you buy it from a boutique my friend owns, handsome.”
And so, here you were, 3 months post break down, 7 months post birthday, plotting the biggest surprise of them all.
You hadn’t taken a pregnancy test since, hoping that by ignoring it, you could subconsciously encourage it to happen. Maybe if you stopped putting the pressure of weekly tests on yourself, it’d be a little easier.
And by god, you were a genius.
You’d waited until you were at work, not trusting yourself to keep the fact that you’d taken a test a secret if you had to sit through your ride to work with Jack. No matter the result, you knew he’d be able to tell. And you had a pretty good feeling about this, given the fact that your period was just under 6 weeks late
But Jack still tracked your cycle. When your period hadn’t come, not long after you’d cried in his arms, you decided not to say anything. You felt a little shitty when you had to fake a period, but you had seen how the constant negatives were weighing on him. You wanted to be absolutely sure when you told him. And you’d truly planned to tell him earlier.
And then time had gotten away from you. And your desire to win whatever competition you had with him was too strong to ignore.
So, when you finally found a free minute, you retrieved the small plastic package from your locker, tucking it into your scrub pocket with a lie about it being that time of the month on the tip of your tongue. But no one stopped you or even batted an eye as you scurried from the lockers to the private restroom.
You did your business as fast as humanly possible, praying you’d be able to have the 5 minutes you needed for it to process before the usual ED chaos pulled you back in.
The two pink lines on the test were so dark they were almost black. You could barely contain yourself, fighting to keep the happy tears at bay as you pocketed the evidence.
When you slipped out of the restroom, you made a beeline for Lena.
“Hey, what’s open?”
She looked up at the board. “Uhh, South 7 should be empty by now.”
“Great,” the smile on your face was much too wide for 2am, even among your nocturnal coworkers. “Meet me there in 5 with a phlebotomy kit.”
Before Lena could ask questions, you were off. You’d been gone for a bit, so you needed to pop your head in on your patients before you could disappear again.
As you made your rounds, quickly checking in on your (thankfully) light caseload, you could see Jack on the other end of the ED. He was surrounded by residents and med students, all of them listening intently. You couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying over the ever present din of beeping and coughing, but it seemed to be some kind of lesson instead of idle chitchat. Robby had been getting on him lately about actually teaching the students at the teaching hospital.
You wanted to stop and stare, but you had an urgent appointment to attend to.
Lena was already in South 7 when you ducked in, shutting the door and sliding the curtain closed behind you.
“I thought you were putting a patient in here,” Lena’s arms were crossed. She looked thoroughly unimpressed.
“I am,” you stripped off your jacket, hiking up your long sleeved undershirt as you moved around her to take a seat on the edge of the bed. “Me.”
“You?”
“Yes, me,” she was still standing there, staring as you got yourself situated. “I need my blood drawn.”
“Oooookay,” slowly, she started setting up. “And why exactly is that?”
Your smile was still much too wide, perhaps a little manic. “I’m pregnant.”
Lena’s irritation morphed to shock and joy. Her smile matched yours as she picked up the pace, rapidly moving through the motions.
“Am I correct in assuming we’re keeping this from Dr. Dad?”
You laughed, nodding as the happy tears you’d held back in the bathroom started to make themselves known. Lena attached the tourniquet, quickly and masterfully finding a vein and beginning the draw. “I want to be absolutely sure before I tell him.”
“You don’t have to lie to me, sweetie,” she detached the vial, scribbling ‘Jane Doe’ along with the date and time on it. “I know this is about the surprises.”
So maybe the rest of the department had started to catch onto the war waging between you and Jack. In your defense, when you decided to vent to Ellis about your latest surprise attempts, how were you supposed to know she would immediately tell Shen, who would then tell everyone who’d give him the time of day?
“Ok yes, fine,” you pressed the bit of cotton she handed you onto the lightly bleeded puncture. “Maybe that’s a very small part of it.”
“Uh-huh,” Lena didn’t believe you, but that wasn’t important. “I’ll let you know when the results come back. I’ll even fast track it since I’m feeling generous.”
“Love you!” You called as she left the room.
Despite the rush, the results still didn’t come back until almost 5 am. Very positive. You were pregnant, about 9 weeks along.
But you were torn. How exactly were you going to tell Jack?
The longer you knew, the more likely he was to find out, either from you slipping up or from one of his many sources, and you couldn’t have that. You needed to do this fast. There was no time to plan out some grand reveal, so you settled on something simple.
After handoff, you pulled him away from the mingling shifts.
“Hey, before we go, can you come look at something with me?”
“Yeah,” Jack looked a little confused, but he followed you. “What’s up?”
“I just want you to take a look at these labs I got for a patient real quick,” you led him back into South 7, the room still open. Quickly, you flicked through tabs on your ipad to your results. “Here.”
Jack looked even more confused as his eyes tracked over the tablet. “Elevated hCG, probably 9-10 weeks.”
You didn’t say anything, keeping your face painfully neutral as you waited, even though you were practically vibrating on the inside. He was smart, you were sure you wouldn’t have to spell it out for him. Any second now he’d realize.
He looked between you and the tablet for a moment, before his lips parted in an ‘O.’
“I see,” you really didn’t think he did, given the lack of emotional response. “Have you told her yet?”
“I think she knows, Jack.”
“Ok…” He still looked perplexed, glancing around the empty room. “Then where is your patient?”
“Jack…” you buried your face in your hands. This was not how you pictured this going.
“What am I missing, sweetheart?” He set the tablet down, closing the distance between you. “Pregnant patient, 9-10 weeks along, probably t-”
“They're my labs, Jack,” you dropped your hands, looking up to watch as his face froze. Tears started welling in your eyes. “I’m pregnant and I’m trying to surprise you.”
He stayed frozen for a moment, eyes scanning your face, before he was dragging you into a bone crushing hug. His hand slid into your hair as your arms wrapped around his waist and your face was buried in his shoulder.
“Holy fuck, baby.”
Your laugh was wet. It didn’t go exactly how you imagined, but Jack’s shaky exhales told you he was just as affected as you.
“I can’t believe it,” his face was buried in your hair.
“We’re having a baby,” you couldn’t stop your voice from breaking, emotion too thick to keep it together. “We’re gonna have a kid.”
“Sweetheart, a ba-” Jack pulled back, something you didn’t catch washing over his face. His hands cupped your cheeks as he looked down at you. “Lie down.”
“What? Why?” You were confused about why he was so rudely interrupting your moment.
“I wanna see them.”
You don’t spend almost a decade with Jack Abbot without being able to tell when he’s up to something, and you can clearly tell he’s thinking something he’s not saying out loud. But both of you are emotional, evident by the shimmering of his eyes, so maybe he just really wanted to see the new life you were carrying.
“Ok,” you moved back, settling on your back on the gurney. As you pulled up your top, untying and lowering your pants ever so slightly, Jack pulled a stool and the ultrasound over. He waited until you were comfortable before he squirted a generous helping of the gel over your lower stomach.
“I know you looked at your results,” both of your eyes were glued to the screen as he used the wand to spread the gel around, moving too quickly for you to see anything yet. “But I don’t think you really looked.”
Your attention shifted, focusing on him. “Jack, what-”
“There,” he pointed at the screen.
You looked back, freezing for a moment as you took in the sight before you.
There, blatantly displayed on the screen was a small shape that could only be described as a white bean, surrounded by black space. You could see what looked like tiny little limbs, branching out from the bean, alongside a clearly defined head.
Being a doctor had prepared you for this sight. You had seen many ultrasounds during your years through school and residency and now your tenure as an attending. You’d even seen this exact situation before, many times, in fact. But seeing it in your own womb was wiping every coherent thought from your mind.
Beside the first bean, tucked in its own protective black space, was a second bean.
“Surprsie, baby,” Jack’s smile was smug, but his eyes were still wet.
“What- how did you-” Your words failed, mind scrambling as you tried to process the reality of your situation.
“Your hCG was too high,” Jack pressed the capture button, moving the wand around to get multiple angles. “Before I realised you were showing me your labs, I thought you were trying to tell me your patient was having twins.”
Reluctantly, he removed the wand, wiping down your stomach as you blinked at him. Jack guided you to sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. You felt like you were in shock, the whole world moving around you in slow motion as your mind struggled to process everything that had happened in the last few hours.
And then Jack popped the bubble, snapping you out of the fog that had come over your brain.
“So, I guess I won your little surprise competition.”
“You absolutely did not,” you slapped weakly at his chest as he stepped between your spread legs to place his palm over your stomach.
“No?” The corners of his mouth were twitching up. “What’s more surprising than being pregnant? Being pregnant with twins.”
“I grew them,” your hand covered his, lacing your fingers together.
“Yeah, you did,” he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. His hips were perfectly placed to brush your core over the slight bulge hidden by his scrubs. It wasn’t fully hard yet, but you could feel the heat of it leaking through the thin material keeping you apart.
“So I won,” your breathing picked up as he gently ground against you.
“I’m pretty sure I’m the winner here,” his hand not on your stomach tangled in your hair, tilting your face up until your noses brushed. “I fucked you so good, I put two in there.”
“That’s the real surprise here,” Jack’s grip on your hair tightened causing a gasp to slip from your lips
“You saying I don’t usually fuck you good enough?”
His voice was low and dangerous, almost a growl. His hips pushed forwards, pressing his length against the seat of your pants.
“Woah!”
The two of you jerked apart when the curtain rings and a shout shattered the tense atmosphere. Robby was standing there, half turned away with a hand over his eyes.
“Not in my hospital, please!”
“Robby, I-” You struggled to come up with a good excuse. Jack didn’t share your concern.
“Cockblock.”
You slapped his arm. Thankfully, he had muttered it under his breath and Robby had either not heard him or had chosen not to comment.
“I know you two live in a very nice house,” Robby peaked through his fingers, deeming it safe to remove his hands now that the two of you were a few feet apart. “Please, keep your marital activities there.”
“We were kind of having a moment, here,” Jack was turned away from him, likely hiding his rapidly shrinking hardon. While he was looking away, he printed the photos from the ultrasound machine.
“Have your moment at home, ok?”
“Sorry, Robby,” you stood, trying to fight the blush tinting your cheeks.
“At least your wife has a sense of decorum.”
“Truly my better half,” Jack laid a kiss on your temple after he collected the pictures, turning his attention solely to you. He handed you four strips of photos. “Here, I made one for you, one for me, one for the fridge, and one for the book.”
“Thank you, Jack,” you pulled him down into a kiss that was work safe, the barest brush of yours against his.
“Holy shit,” both of you remembered Robby was in the room when he noticed the photos. “Is that-”
“Yes,” Jack’s hand on your back pushed you forward, moving you around Robby. “Now, excuse us. I’m going to go have a few moments with my wife.”
“Jack!”
“Jesus Christ. Too much information, brother."
The car ride home had been silent. Jack was staring at the road, jaw tense and knuckles white, all while you couldn’t look away from the strip of photos in your hands. You’d probably committed all the details to memory by now, but your eyes were glued to the glossy black and white images.
You were mesmerized, transfixed. All you could do was look at your two little beans.
Aside from the lack of a period, you hadn’t had any of the stereotypical first trimester symptoms. It felt unreal, like there was some sort of disconnect. Logically, you knew that those two beans from the pictures were inside you, growing and developing. But physically, you didn’t feel it. There was no bump yet, no morning sickness, nothing visible or tangible besides these photos in your hands to mark you as pregnant.
So you clung to them, never once looking up at your surroundings until Jack was opening the passenger side door, helping you down and out of the cab of his truck.
“I’m really pregnant.”
You were the first to break the silence that had settled over the both of you.
“Yes, sweetheart,” Jack set both of your bags down on the kitchen counter while you stood, eyes flicking between the photos and him. “You really are.”
“We’re fucking having fucking twins.”
“You’ve got to work on that potty mouth before they get here,” he walked towards you, his hands settling on your hips as his chest pressed to your back. His chin hooked over your shoulder as he looked down to gaze at the print outs once again.
“Jack,” your hands fell to your sides as you spun in his grip. “What the fuck are we going to do with twins? I was already nervous about having one kid at a time, but 2? How the hell are we-”
“Hey,” calloused hands found your cheeks, stopping your panicking and squishing your lips shut. “I’ll tell you how we’re gonna do this.”
He was walking you backwards, into the hallway and across the threshold of your bedroom.
“We’re gonna take it day by day. We’re gonna listen to our guts, follow our instincts,” he guided you to sit on the end of the bed before he was kneeling between your legs. Those big hands of his reached up, peeling your scrub top and undershirt over your head. “We’ll take some time off work, probably 6 months once they’re here, and then we can go part time.”
“But what about money-”
“You know as well as I do that we do not need to worry about money,” his fingers deftly unhooked your bra, sliding it from your shoulders. Those same fingers found the drawstring of your pants, undoing it and slipping them down along with your underwear. You lifted your hips to help him. “Between what we’ve saved so far and my pension and disability, we don’t ever have to go back if we don’t want to, sweetheart.”
“I’m not ready to quit yet,” your fingers ran through his hair as he spread your legs a little wider. Soft kisses were pressed to the skin of your inner thighs.
“Then you won’t. Like I said, day by day,” he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. “Now, can I eat you out or do you want to keep talking about our finances?”
“Eat me out, please Jack.”
You hadn’t noticed the growing heat between your legs, too focused on your nerves and anxiety. But when his tongue swept through your folds, a jolt of fire shot up your spine, quickly drawing your attention solely to your husband and his mouth.
“Fuck,” his arms wrapped around your thighs, yanking you even closer to him. You fell flat against the mattress. “You taste even better than usual, baby.”
Jack ate you out like a man starved. He was everywhere, dipping his tongue inside your entrance, closing his lips around your clit, his teeth dragging over your outer folds. There was little finesse. He knew the exact right buttons to push to get you right over the finish line. He’d timed it once or twice. The record was 5 minutes and 37 seconds.
But at this moment, it wasn’t about getting you there. He was savoring you, exploring every nook and cranny he could in a desperate attempt to get even more of the sweetness between your thighs on his tongue.
“Gonna have to keep you pregnant 24/7 if you taste this good when you’ve got my kids in there,” one of his hands came up to spread over your abdomen, right above your navel. He pressed down at the same time he slid two of his fingers inside of you, all the way down to the knuckle.
Your back arched, a pathetic whine of his name leaking into the air.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Jack’s voice was low and rough, the vibrations traveling through your body as he refused to lift his head. “I’ll give you what you need.”
The shift from him simply exploring and savoring your taste to a concentrated effort to make you cum is jarring. One moment he was languidly licking over you with the flat of his tongue and the next his lips were sealed over your clit, sucking while his fingers curled upwards to slide back and forwards against your g-spot.
“Jack! Fuck!”
He didn’t respond, his focus solely on giving you the most pleasure he could, as fast as he could.
It was intense. Like he had poured gasoline onto the heat growing between your legs, turning that fuzzy, warm flame into an inferno. His movements threatened to drag you over into oblivion much faster than you had anticipated.
“Oh fuck, Jack,” your voice was high pitched and breathy while your body writhed, just barely held in place by his hand still flat over your stomach. “Fuck, I’m close!”
And then, right as you were about to tumble over the edge, he stopped. Jack pulled back, wiping his face with the back of his hand.
“What the fuck?” You were panting, trying to school your desperate and flushed features into a glare.
“Oh I’m sorry,” Jack looked dangerous in the low light of the bedroom. He stood, towering over your almost limp body, the limited light seeping in from the blackout curtains and shining from the dim lamp on the bedside table outlined the sharp edges of him. His jaw dusted with slight silver stubble, the muscles in his chest and arms that tensed and shifted as he crawled over you.
His hand tapped at the outside of your thigh, urging you silently to scoot up until your head lay among the pillows and his body and settled between your legs. You realized he was still fully clothed while you lay beneath him, completely naked.
“That was looking suspiciously like I was making you feel good.”
Your head dropped back with a groan. “You’re still on that? It was a dumb comment. You know you make me feel better than anyone I’ve ever been with, Jack.”
“I certainly know that,” his fingers spread wide over your breast, squeezing the flesh before shifting and rolling your nipple between two rough fingertips. You let out a high pitched sigh as your back arched, practically presenting your breasts to him. “I just think you might need a reminder.”
“Then take off your clothes and remind me,” your hands tangled in his curls, dragging his face to yours. When your lips met, it was desperate, both of you falling into a fast and needy rhythm. His tongue darted out, tangling with yours while his hands continued to squeeze at and caress your breasts. You could feel the hard length of him grinding against your inner thigh.
And then Jack was pulling back, pushing up to rest on his knees between your spread thighs. You couldn’t help but admire him as he stripped his shirt off, eyes glued to the freckles dusting his shoulders and pecs.
“Enjoying the view?” He cocked one eyebrow at you, throwing the shirt off the edge of the bed as he unfastened his watch.
“Oh I most definitely am,” something fluttered in your stomach as he leant over you, reaching to place the watch on the nightstand. You knew he was doing it on purpose, but you couldn’t find it in you to complain as you watched his muscles stretch and flex.
“Mmm, me too.”
Jack settled back on his knees, those big hands sliding over your thighs. He looked ravenous, his eyes tracing over every inch of your bare skin, especially lingering on your chest as it rose and fell in time with your heavy breathing.
“I think you should sit on my face.”
Your breath hitched, core clenching at his words. As tempting as it was, you were aching for him. You needed to feel him deep inside of you.
“I think you should fuck me,” you countered. It was playing dirty, but you couldn’t help yourself as you stretched your arms above your head, arching your back and hooking your legs around his hips. “C’mon Jackie.”
As he dropped down over you, one of his hands caught your still outstretched wrists, pinning them to the blankets. With the other hand he dug his fingers into your hair, not pulling, just holding tight to the strands.
“I want,” his lips kissed the corner of your mouth before he was moving down to mouth at where your carotid hammered away. “You to sit on my face. Think of it as my reward for winning the surprise-off.”
“You didn’t win-” your protest ended in a bitten off moan when his hips ground against yours, your clit pressing right against his head through the thin fabric he still wore.
“Yes I did.”
Your world blurred and tilted as Jack flipped the two of you. He landed on his back, leaving you scrambling to catch your balance as he pulled you up his chest. His hands were insistent from where they held your ass, yanking you up and over his face before you could stop him.
And then he was pulling you down. The hands on your ass encouraged you to rock and grind against him while his tongue plunged inside of you.
You cried out his name, hands shooting out to grab the headboard as the heat from before returned full force. Jack didn’t let up, using every dirty little trick he’d learned over the years to get you close. He didn’t delay or try to keep you on edge, his sole focus was on making you cum.
His tongue shifted and he tilted your hips, drawing circles around the bud with his tongue while his fingers slipped back inside you.
“Holy shit!” You were rocking against him, panting with the force of the orgasm rising deep in your pelvis. “Fuck, please. Just like that!”
He groaned into you, and that pushed you over the edge.
Your legs shook and your head dropped back. You didn’t try to hide the moans and whimpers you released as you pulsed around his fingers. The sensation washed over you, sending sparks flashing behind your closed eyelids while you rode it out.
When he finally let you go, it was a miracle you didn’t kick him in the face. You collapsed into the sheets beside him, panting and twitching with aftershocks.
“Does that qualify as ‘good enough?’”
“Fuck you, Abbot.”
Your eyes were still closed but you heard him getting up. There was the rustling of his pants, followed by the telltale snapping of the fastenings on his leg. You listened to his sigh and the thunk as it was leant against the nightstand.
And then he was sliding over you again and your eyes opened.
He was smiling down at you, eyes full of so much love it floored you. To see his devotion to you sparkling in his blown pupils in the comfort of the home you shared was overwhelming.
“I love you,” your fingers carded through his messy curls before your palm settled over his cheekbone.
“I love you, too.”
He kissed you then, slowly and softly, simply letting the two of you get lost in it. As you did, your legs came up to wrap around him and his forearms settled on either side of your head.
It was only when the bare length of him was brushing through your folds that you broke the kiss.
“Wait,” your breathing was labored. “Flip me over.”
“No, I want to see you,” Jack was trying to pull you back into a kiss as his length continued to rut against you, but you dodged it.
“And I want to get fucked laying on my stomach before your kids make it so I can’t.”
He laughed, shaking his head as he sat back up again to give you room to twist around. When you got comfortable he grabbed a pillow.
“Up,” his hand pulled at your hip and you lifted, giving him room to slide the pillow underneath, just enough to prop you up slightly. Your hands folded underneath your chin, waiting for him to get himself situated.
“Your ass looks fucking incredible like this.” Jack straddled your thighs, pinning them together. His hands came up to grab and squeeze at your ass, pulling the cheeks apart to glide his length in between.
The first press of him against your dripping entrance had you biting your lip. He always felt so big in this position, like he was actually rearranging your guts when he bottomed out.
“Ah fuck,” he sounded breathless when he pushed the head in. “You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart.”
“Jack please,” you tried to push back against him but his hand landed on your upper back, keeping you pinned.
“Gotta give me a minute,” he was breathing hard, biting back a groan when you squeezed around him. “Gonna cum too fast if you do that.”
You gave him a minute. Well, you tried to. You just needed him, desperately.
“Jack Abbot if you don’t fuck me, I swear to god I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” He was finally - finally - sliding the rest of the way inside, pushing until his hips met your ass. “You’ll find someone else to fuck you? You won’t let me touch you for a week?”
You were too distracted by the full length of him sliding home to answer. Your hips were grinding back, as much as you could while he still held you still. The shifting movement had your clit grinding against the pillow as well.
“C’mon, don’t make empty threats.” Jack’s body lowered over yours. His chest pressed into your back, pinning you even more firmly into the mattress and stopping your movements. “Tell me what you’ll do if I don’t fuck you how you need.”
“I-”
You were interrupted by his first thrust, a deep grinding motion that had his tip pressing against that space just below your cervix. One of his hands was slipping between you and the pillow, palming your mound. His fingers parted around where his length was beginning to slide in and out, never pulling more than halfway out before thrusting back in.
“F-fuck…”
“S’that what you needed, babygirl?”
He pulled back slightly until the pads of his fingers were brushing against your clit, rolling and stroking over the bud with every shift of his cock deep inside you.
“Yes, Jack, yes!”
Jack buried as deep into you as he could with every thrust. Your mind was going fuzzy with pleasure. Fully surrounded by him like you were, it was impossible to focus on anything except how he made you feel. His chest was pressed against your back, his forehead pressed against your shoulder, and his free arm was curled over your other shoulder, holding your breast.
“Shit, please tell me you’re close, baby,” his fingers sped up against your clit and his hips were losing their rhythm.
“Yeah, Jack, please!”
All you could do from where he held you was grind back and forth, alternating between chasing the pleasure from his hand and his cock. Both sensations were yanking you closer to your orgasm. You could feel it welling in your bones and pooling in your stomach.
“Fuck I want you to cum with me,” Jack was grunting as humped into you. “Please sweetheart. Wanna feel you.”
Who were you to deny your husband what he wanted?
The noise Jack made when your walls started to squeeze and pulse around him was obscene. It was long and drawn out, rough around the edges and broken as he thrust in and stayed. You could feel his length twitching, the wet hot heat of him unloading deep inside you.
All the while, your own hips were twitching and jerking, pinned in place by his body as your eyes rolled back. The orgasm ran you over, leaving you gasping and whimpering into the sheets as you fought to catch your breath. It felt electric, zapping up and down your spine in increasingly weaker pulses until you collapsed into the bed.
“Jesus,” Jack pushed himself off you, pulling out slowly. Both of you winced at the separation.
You let yourself lay there, blissed out and half aware as Jack moved about around you. His crutches squeaked against the floor as he went into the bathroom, but he was back before you knew it with a wet wash cloth. His movements were gentle as he cleaned between your legs.
“That’s good enough. C’mere,” you pushed his hand away, scooting back to make room for him underneath the covers.
“Alright,” he chuckled. There was a rather gross sounding wet splat, presumably the wash cloth landing on the tile of the bathroom floor and then Jack was pulling your back against his chest, spooning you.
You made a mental note to pick that up tomorrow.
“You may have surprised me today, and maybe I lost the surprise-off,” Jack’s words were quiet, muffled slightly by his lips pressed to your hair as he held you tightly. One of his hands rested over your stomach. You were already starting to drift off, exhausted by the emotions and physical exertion of the day. “But I’m still the biggest winner because I have you, and these two little ones.”
Jack Abbot x chubby/plus sized!fem!librarian!reader
Summary: Your date gets ruined but Jack salvages it.
WC: ~1.8k
Warnings: Fatphobia, asshole guy, bad date experience, noticeable/meaningful age gap implied but the gap is not specified, his Army combat medic experience mentioned briefly
-
You were sitting at a bar, patiently waiting for your date to show up.
After a few more minutes, there’s a tap at your shoulder. You turn to look and it’s the guy whose picture you remember from the dating app profile.
“Oh wow um you’re not… what I was expecting…” his gaze flickered over your body.
You frowned. You’d specifically included a very recent full body picture so as not to “deceive” anyone. And you thought your dress looked pretty okay in the mirror. “What were you expecting?” You asked apprehensively.
“Not… that.” He gestured to your body vaguely, nose scrunching slightly. “Yeah… I uh… I’m sorry. I just don’t think I can do this.”
He just sighed deeply and walked away without another word to you, exiting the bar. He seemed more sorry he’d been put in this situation than he was about the way he’d reacted to your body.
You let out a long exhale before sitting back on the bar stool. You put your face in your hands.
You felt a presence behind you as you heard boots on the floor leading up to you.
“You okay?” A voice from somewhere behind you asked. “Guy was an asshole.”
“I’m… fine. I’ll be… fine…” you dismissed his concern.
“Lemme pay for your drink. Then I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”
You looked back at him finally, shaking your head. “You don’t have to do that.”
You observed the man standing a respectful distance away from you (but still close enough for a semi-private conversation). He was about 5’9”. He had shortish slightly greying curly hair (that still had tinges of auburn to it). He looked fairly muscular, his biceps and pecs defined in the fitted black tee he wore. He was wearing camo cargo pants. His body language was relaxed and friendly. His face was neutral and relaxed as well. He had some wrinkles (especially around his eyes). His brown eyes were dark and soulful as they observed you right back.
“Just because an asshole rejected you, doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a drink now. Just… drink responsibly, alright?”
You gave a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”
He gave a tight lipped smile before his mouth went back to a neutral position. “Just Jack, please.”
“Alright… Jack.”
He set some bills down on the bar counter beside you. “For the lady’s drink. And for another.” He told the bartender.
“Just two drinks.” You confirmed. “I can’t have any more than that.”
The bartender nodded, understanding, and took Jack’s money and poured you another drink. Jack meandered back to his table not that far from the bar. He left you alone but kept an eye on you, just to make sure you were alright and that no one else was bothering you.
“Just two.” You stated again to the bartender.
“Just two.” He repeated, nodding, giving you a small smile.
You finished your first drink and he took the empty glass away. Sipping your second drink, you meet Jack’s gaze. He held it and gave you a small smile. And you felt your body relax just a bit more. Between the alcohol and his soft comforting gaze, your body was losing some of the tension that had settled in it earlier with your potential date’s rejection of you.
Instead of being creepy or unsettling, his gaze was consistent and comforting indeed. You could always look over at him and know someone was looking out for you. His gaze remained fixed on your face. Every single time you looked at him, he never had to readjust his gaze. He wasn’t looking at your tits or your legs, always just at your face.
You wondered why he was sitting all alone over there. He was handsome and nice enough. But he seemed quite content all by himself. After a while, when everything seemed to calm down, he stopped looking at you so much. You were still calmed down too, but something in the back of your mind itched for his continued concern even if you didn’t want to be in situations where he would need to be continually concerned about you.
Finished with your second and last drink of the evening, you pulled out your phone to check messages and socials. Your friend had messaged you asking how it was going and you were honest with her about the rejection. She offered virtual hugs and real ice cream but you passed, opting instead to just go home and chill. You went on the dating app you’d met the guy on only to find yourself blocked before you could’ve blocked him. It was whatever.
But before you headed towards the door, you approached Jack. His eyes were on you as you did approach him (your movement getting up from the bar stool apparently had grabbed his attention).
“Hi, I uh I just wanted to thank you again for offering to pay for my drinks… and then leaving me to my own devices. That was really kind of you. I really appreciated it.”
He put his hand up. “No problem. I’m glad you could enjoy your drinks alone.”
“Alright… well… I’ll leave you alone now, then.”
He gave you a smile. “Have a good night.”
You returned the smile. “You too.”
You turn away from him to leave. But then a novel idea hits you. If he’s alone and you’re alone…maybe you could not be so lonely together. You’d stopped. He’d noticed.
“Something wrong?” He called out to you.
You turned back and walked back to him. “Could I sit here?”
He didn’t hesitate to gesture to the chair across from him. “Sure. Want another drink or are you driving?” He’d asked if you would exceed your stated limit (because he’d be paying for that too). He didn’t try to coax you into having a third drink.
“I’m driving. I really don’t feel like another alcoholic one but I’ll switch to a virgin cocktail.”
He flagged a server down and ordered your drinks for the both of you. “If you don’t mind me paying for yours still…”
“Not if you’re offering.”
“I am.” He said with a smile.
The server went to give the bartender the drink order. You both sat in silence for a few seconds.
“So… Jack… what is it you do for work?”
“I’m an attending physician in the ED at PTMC.”
Your eyebrows raised. “Oh, wow! That’s cool!”
He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about it. “It’s alright. What about you? What do you do?”
You waved a dismissive hand. “Oh um nothing as exciting as you, surely.”
He leaned in slightly. “Well, I still wanna know what it is you do.”
“I’m a librarian.”
“No kidding?”
“It’s true.”
“In a place like this?”
“Guess who picked it?” You asked dryly.
“Not you?”
You shook your head. “Nope.”
“He made you come to a bar?”
“I chose to come.” You admitted.
He shook his head. “Still no way to treat a woman.” He murmured. “He your age?”
“About, yeah.”
“No goddamn sense… I would’ve taken you to a nice restaurant for dinner or to a cafe for brunch or lunch. If I were going on a date with you, that is. You like Italian? Indian? Coffee? Lattes? Cappuccinos? Breakfast sandwiches? Or are wraps more your thing?”
You couldn’t help but chuckle. “I um… are you… asking me out?”
“Not necessarily. Unless you’d like for me to be asking you out. Any of that sound appealing to you? Feel free to offer your own suggestions. I’m all ears. Or feel free to turn me down. I’m a big boy, I can take it.” You could tell that he’d cringed a bit when he’d called himself a “big boy” but he let it pass.
“If you were asking me out…”
“Yes?” He prompted.
“I might be inclined to say yes to lunch at The Grind.”
His eyebrows rose. “Ah, a woman with good taste. I applaud you.”
“Do I need your approval?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No. You don’t.”
“But I appreciate the acknowledgement that I’m correct in my food taste.”
He nodded, playing along with you. “Oh, of course, happy to oblige.”
“You’d really take me to The Grind for lunch?” You asked seriously.
“Oh, it’s the least I could do.” He put his hand to his chest, still being a bit dramatic and silly but you could tell he was being genuine in his offer and enthusiasm. “It would make up for your ruined date experience.”
“Doesn’t seem so ruined to me.” You shrugged lightly. “A kind and handsome Doctor kinda salvaged the night.” He smiled.
A small smile graced his face as well. “Did he?”
You nodded. “He did, yeah.”
His smile widened. “Happy to oblige.”
He’d made sure you got to your vehicle alright after you’d called it a night.
“Thanks again, Jack. I really appreciate you.” You leant in to give him a brief kiss on the cheek. “I won’t go home and cry myself to sleep now.”
“Knowing I was able to prevent that is all I could’ve asked for.”
“Well you didn’t have to beg me to go on a date with you.”
“No, but I would’ve.”
You smiled. “Would you really have?”
“Oh, absolutely. Something tells me something beautiful may come from being granted the chance to be in your company.”
You laughed and he wished he could bottle that up and save it for when he’d had awful shifts. It would keep him warm in the freezing cold ED. “What? Too cheesy? ‘Cause I’m a little rusty at this, just so you know.”
You tried to keep a straight face. “Well, I couldn’t tell.”
He smiled and shook his head at your obvious lie. “You absolutely could.”
“But maybe I don’t mind.”
"Seriously, I've been out of the dating game for decades at this point."
"It's never too late to get back on that horse."
He shook his head and sighed. "I'm really not good at this."
"You're doing just fine, trust me. And hey, you're already doing much better than Kyle. So there’s that.”
He gave you a slightly judgmental look. "Kyle? Really?"
You smiled and shrugged. "We all make mistakes."
"That’s a pretty low bar but I sincerely hope that I can meet and surpass it so I'm not another one of yours."
"Time will tell but I've got a good feeling about you."
"I'm absolutely terrified but I've got a good feeling about you, too."
He helped you into your vehicle and stood there and watched as you drove out of the parking lot before getting into his own vehicle. He just sat there for a few minutes to let reality set in for him. He had a date. He had an actual honest date with a woman in what was a few decades for him. He'd been an Army combat medic. He was an emergency medicine physician. And yet, he was absolutely terrified of an utterly adorable and sweet librarian.
- you’re gay
- can read
- support gay people
- want to hold a match between your fingers as you wander the halls of an ancient castle because it’s your only source of light amidst the ghosts of people long past
- are an antelope
- or want a chocolate bar.
Daryl accidentally makes you cry. He becomes borderline manic, in that awkward Daryl way, in his desperation to make it up to you.
The first time you cried in front of Daryl Dixon, he reacted like a man who’d just been shot.
Not loudly.
Not gracefully.
Just sudden stillness, blue eyes blown wide, shoulders locking so hard it looked painful.
And then absolute panic.
The prison had been tense for days.
Not the normal kind of tense, either. Not walkers-at-the-fence tense or food-running-low tense. This was people tense. Too many close calls. Too many arguments. Too many exhausted survivors trying to pretend they weren’t unraveling.
Everyone was frayed thin.
You especially.
You’d spent the entire morning hauling water, patching torn clothes, helping Hershel with the sick, and trying to keep two terrified children from crying after another nightmare. By the time evening rolled around, your head hurt, your back ached, and all you wanted was ten minutes alone.
Instead, you got Daryl storming into the cellblock covered in mud and blood after a disastrous run with Rick.
He looked furious before he even opened his mouth.
“Where’s the damn medical bag?” he barked.
The entire room went quiet.
You looked up from where you were sorting canned food. “What?”
“The bag.” He yanked an arrow from his quiver harder than necessary before immediately shoving it back in. Agitated. Pacing. “The one from storage.”
“I moved it to the infirmary yesterday.”
“Well it ain’t there now.”
His voice cracked through the room like a whip.
Normally, you would’ve snapped right back. Daryl respected people who bit back. But today every nerve in your body already felt scraped raw.
“I didn’t lose it, Daryl.”
“Didn’t say ya did.”
“You’re acting like I did.”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can nobody in this place put shit where it belongs?”
The words themselves weren’t even the problem.
It was the tone.
Sharp. Angry. Exhausted.
And because you were already hanging by a thread, it felt personal.
You stared at him for a second too long.
Daryl noticed immediately.
His irritation faltered.
“...What?”
You swallowed hard. “Nothing.”
“Ya got somethin’ to say, say it.”
That did it.
Not because he was being cruel intentionally.
Because he wasn’t.
Because Daryl’s rough edges usually hid something careful underneath, especially with you, and right then you were too tired to brace yourself against the impact of his temper.
Your eyes burned before you could stop it.
Embarrassment hit instantly afterward.
God, no.
Not here.
Not in front of everybody.
You looked away fast, but it was too late. Your vision blurred and suddenly tears were sliding down your cheeks before you could suck in a steady breath.
The silence afterward was horrific.
Daryl froze completely.
You heard Glenn quietly go, “Oh, man.”
Like someone witnessing a car crash.
“I’m fine,” you said too quickly, wiping at your face. Which only made more tears come. “Forget it.”
Daryl looked genuinely horrified.
Not uncomfortable.
Horrified.
Like he’d accidentally kicked a puppy off a cliff.
“Hey,” he said immediately, voice dropping hard. “Hey, I—I weren’t yellin’ at you.”
You shook your head once, mortified beyond belief. “I know.”
But your voice wobbled.
Daryl visibly panicked.
“No, I didn’t mean—shit.” He took a step toward you and then stopped like he wasn’t sure if approaching would make things worse. “I weren’t mad at you.”
“It’s fine.”
“It ain’t fine, you’re cryin’.”
“Please stop saying that.”
His eyes widened further.
Wrong thing. Wrong thing.
Everyone in the room suddenly found somewhere else to be.
Carol disappeared first, because Carol was smart.
Rick abruptly remembered he needed to check the fences.
Glenn physically dragged Maggie away while whispering, “Do not stare at them.”
Within seconds, the entire cellblock emptied out until it was just you and Daryl standing there in unbearable silence.
You covered your face with your hand.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
And Daryl looked like that sentence stabbed him directly in the chest.
“Why’re you apologizin’?”
“Because now you feel bad.”
“Well, yeah, I feel bad!” he burst out. “Yer cryin’!”
You made a strangled sound halfway between a laugh and another sob.
Which somehow made him even more frantic.
“Jesus Christ.”
Daryl started pacing.
Actually pacing.
You’d seen him fight walkers with less visible distress.
“I didn’t mean t’make ya cry,” he said rapidly. “I weren’t mad at you, I was mad ‘bout the run an’ Rick keepin’ dumb shit from me an’ then the bag bein’ gone an’—”
“It’s okay.”
“It ain’t okay!”
He sounded deeply offended by the very concept.
You stared at him through watery eyes.
Daryl stopped pacing long enough to point at your face helplessly.
“That’s not okay!”
You let out another watery laugh despite yourself.
And for one tiny second relief flashed across his face.
Good. Laughing was better. Laughing meant you weren’t devastated. Maybe he hadn’t permanently ruined everything.
Then you wiped your eyes again and his panic returned full force.
“Don’t cry again,” he said immediately.
“I can’t exactly turn it off.”
“Try harder.”
You blinked at him.
Daryl looked horrified at his own words the second they left his mouth.
“Not like that,” he said quickly. “Shit. I mean—”
Another laugh escaped you.
Small, shaky, but real.
Daryl seized onto it like a lifeline.
“There y’go,” he said urgently. “See? Better.”
“You’re acting insane right now.”
“Probably.”
He rubbed both hands over his face hard enough to drag his skin downward.
Then, abruptly, he vanished.
Just turned and walked away so fast you barely processed it.
You blinked after him.
“…Okay.”
An hour later, there was a dead rabbit outside your cell.
You stared at it.
Then at Daryl.
He stood three feet away with his arms crossed, aggressively refusing eye contact.
“…Is this an apology rabbit?”
“No.”
“It’s definitely an apology rabbit.”
“Ain’t.”
“It has flowers.”
There were, in fact, several badly crushed wildflowers shoved beside the rabbit’s ear.
Daryl looked furious you’d noticed.
“Carol said girls like flowers.”
Your mouth twitched.
“You asked Carol for advice?”
“No.”
“You absolutely did.”
“She said I was bein’ stupid.”
“She’s right.”
Daryl grunted.
You crouched carefully beside the rabbit, emotion swelling unexpectedly in your chest.
Because this was Daryl.
Daryl, who barely spoke when he didn’t have to.
Daryl, who hated emotional conversations so much he treated feelings like active landmines.
And somehow this man had decided the solution to making you cry was emergency gift-giving.
“I really am okay,” you told him softly.
He finally looked at you.
Still guilty.
Still miserable.
“Yeah, well,” he muttered, “didn’t look like it.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
The thing was, Daryl wasn’t good with polished comfort. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d sit you down and talk through emotions gently.
Daryl loved like an animal did.
Protective. restless. instinctive.
He’d sooner bleed for someone than say something vulnerable out loud.
And right then he looked ready to crawl out of his own skin because he thought he hurt you.
“It wasn’t really about you,” you admitted quietly.
His brow furrowed immediately.
“What?”
“I was already overwhelmed.”
“You still cried ‘cause of me.”
“You just… happened to be the last thing before I cracked.”
That somehow looked worse.
“Oh, that’s great.”
“Daryl—”
“So yer sayin’ everybody else managed not t’make ya cry an’ I’m the one dumbass that pushed ya over?”
You stared at him.
“That is not what I said.”
“S’what happened.”
He looked genuinely stricken.
Like this revelation had devastated him personally.
You stood slowly. “You didn’t mean to hurt me.”
“Still did.”
There it was again.
That brutal honesty.
No excuses. No defensiveness.
Just guilt.
You stepped closer carefully. “Hey.”
Daryl’s eyes flicked toward yours.
“You’re not a bad person because you snapped after a terrible day.”
His jaw tightened.
“You cried.”
“You’ve yelled at Rick worse than that.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
He looked at you like the answer should’ve been obvious.
“Because it was you.”
Oh.
Oh.
Your heart stumbled hard against your ribs.
Daryl seemed to realize what he’d admitted a second too late.
He immediately looked away.
“Forget I said that.”
“No.”
His ears went red.
“It come out wrong.”
“It came out honest.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Breathing space suddenly too small.
Daryl shifted awkwardly, looking cornered now in a way walkers had never managed.
“You hungry?” he blurted.
You blinked.
“…What?”
“I cooked the rabbit.”
“You cooked my apology rabbit?”
“Was I supposed t’keep it as a pet?”
A startled laugh burst out of you.
Daryl visibly relaxed again at the sound.
“There it is,” he muttered quietly.
“What?”
“That laugh.”
The way he said it made warmth spread through you so quickly it almost hurt.
He looked embarrassed immediately afterward, like he regretted letting the thought out.
So you saved him.
“You know,” you said carefully, “most men just say sorry.”
Daryl scoffed softly. “Most men ain’t me.”
“No,” you agreed. “They’re not.”
Something unreadable crossed his face then.
Something soft.
Terrified.
Hopeful.
He cleared his throat roughly. “C’mon. Before Carol steals half the damn food.”
You started noticing things after that.
Maybe they’d always been there.
Maybe you’d just finally learned how to see them.
Daryl lingering near you constantly.
Daryl silently handing you the better portion during meals.
Daryl checking the fences nearest your cell first every night.
Daryl appearing out of nowhere anytime someone upset you.
And God help anyone who did.
A week after the crying incident, one of the newer survivors grabbed your wrist too hard during an argument.
Daryl saw it from twenty feet away.
The transformation was immediate.
One second he’d been skinning a squirrel.
The next he was across the yard like a storm.
“Take yer hand off her.”
The man let go instantly.
Mostly because Daryl looked fully prepared to kill him.
You touched Daryl’s arm quickly. “I’m okay.”
He didn’t look away from the man.
“Didn’t ask.”
The survivor backed up fast and wisely disappeared.
Daryl stood there breathing hard for another second before finally turning toward you.
“You okay?”
The difference between the softness in his voice now versus the anger from before nearly melted you on the spot.
“Yeah.”
His eyes scanned your face carefully anyway.
Checking.
Always checking now.
Like he never wanted to accidentally hurt you again.
You reached up before you could second-guess yourself and touched his wrist lightly.
Daryl went completely still.
“You know,” you said softly, “one crying incident doesn’t mean I’m made of glass.”
His gaze locked onto yours.
“Ain’t worried you’re glass.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
His throat worked once.
“That somebody’s gonna hurt ya.”
Your heart nearly stopped.
Because he meant everyone.
Including himself.
You stepped closer.
“So don’t.”
Daryl looked wrecked by that sentence.
Absolutely wrecked.
Like wanting you was the most dangerous thing he’d ever experienced.
“You make this real hard,” he muttered.
“How?”
His laugh came out quiet and disbelieving.
“Sweetheart, I about lost my damn mind ‘cause you cried once.”
Your breath caught.
Sweetheart.
He seemed startled he’d said it aloud.
But this time he didn’t take it back.
You smiled slowly.
Daryl stared at you like the sight hit him directly in the chest.
Then, with the hesitant uncertainty of a man approaching a wild animal, he lifted a hand and touched your face.
Rough fingertips.
Unbelievably gentle.
“You cryin’ now?” he asked suspiciously.
You laughed softly. “No.”
“Good.”
“You’re still panicking, though.”
“Ain’t panickin’.”
“You brought me three different flowers today.”
His expression turned defensive. “Found ‘em while huntin’.”
“You hate flowers.”
“They were there.”
You grinned.
Daryl groaned quietly, realizing you were making fun of him.
Then his thumb brushed your cheekbone once.
Tender. Careful.
Like he still couldn’t believe he was allowed.
The smile faded from your face slowly.
Not sadness.
Just feeling.
Too much of it.
Daryl noticed instantly and looked alarmed again.
“Oh hell, are you cryin’ again?”
“No!”
“You got that face.”
“What face?”
“That face before the tears start.”
You burst out laughing.
Real laughing this time.
Daryl stared at you for a second before something in him finally loosened completely.
Relief flooded his face so openly it made your chest ache.
“There y’are,” he said quietly.
And before fear could stop either of you, you leaned forward and kissed him.
Daryl made a startled noise against your mouth.
Then he kissed you back like he’d been starving for it.
One rough hand cupped the side of your face immediately, protective even now, while the other settled carefully at your waist like he was afraid you might disappear.
When you finally pulled back, both of you breathing hard, Daryl rested his forehead against yours.
“You got any idea what ya do to me?” he muttered.
You smiled softly. “Probably something close to a panic attack.”
He barked out a laugh.
“Yeah. Sounds ‘bout right.”
Then he kissed you again.
And this time, when you smiled into it, Daryl smiled too.
I saw you were taking requests I would love to request . You are an amazing writer
Can I request where Reader is Epileptic and her and Jack are at work. Reader has a seizure and maybe gets hurt or something. He takes care of reader through their seizure.
I will definitely request more if that’s okay 🥰
💞Tags/Warnings💞: slight age gap relationship, secret relationship, hurt/comfort, worried!Jack Abbot, fluff, ( brief ) mentions/descriptions of Tonic Seizures ( pls read at your own risk ), AttentiveBoyfriend!Jack Abbot
💞Plot💞: No one at the Pitt knows Dr. Y/N is taken. No one at the Pitt knows Jack Abbot is taken. They’re all about to find out..
💞Characters💞: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader
💞Title💞: I’ve Got You, Baby
💞A/N💞: omg, you’re so sweet. Of course it’s okay to request more, pls do! 🤭 I really hope you like it!!
((Requests are ALWAYS open))
Masterlist
“I think you should clock out..” Jack whispers in Y/N’s ear, standing close to her desk to speak low enough for only her to hear, his eyes scanning the busy ED around them to make sure no one is watching this intimate moment too closely.
“Am I doing that bad?” She tries to joke back playfully as she focuses on charting.
“Y/N..” Jack says. She pauses at the tone of his voice. Jack Abbot not wanting to banter? This was serious...
“You haven’t been resting. I told you to take today off-“ She cuts him off before he can spark up the same argument they’ve have been having since yesterday.
“I am fine..” She argues simply as she backs away from him now to show she’s done with the conversation.
Jack and Y/N had managed to keep their relationship a secret for about a year and some change. But now, things were getting serious. Well.. Way more serious than they already were.
Y/N had officially moved into Jack’s apartment.
They’d done the move in one weekend. Jack was stubborn enough, and prideful enough, to do all the heavy lifting himself. Most furniture went to a storage unit, but the majority of her stuff was in Jack’s condo right now. And just as Jack had done, Y/N had stubbornly, and pridefully, spent the entire weekend putting everything in its specific space.
Meaning right now, on Monday morning, her sleep schedule was all out of whack, and caused Jack concern…
“You’ve had a full weekend of broken sleep, you just finished moving so your stress levels must be high, and last night we killed an entire bottle of white wine.” Jack lists his worries as he follows Y/N down the hallway..
“Ugh. Don’t remind me..” Y/N mutters playfully as she rubs her temple as if regretting that decision.
“Not funny.” Jack states quietly. He didn’t want to bicker with her at work, but he also was worried. She was sluggish all morning and surviving strictly on energy drinks. Jack had counted two of them in her trash bin already.
“I bet you haven’t had anything for your sugars, have you.” He accuses gently. “Or water.” He adds. Y/N raises an eyebrow at that and makes a big show of stopping at a water fountain to drink from before giving him a ‘there’ glance. He crosses his arms at that, unamused..
“Jack.” Y/N sighs. “I’m a big girl. I’ve been dealing with this for a good part of my life. I think I can handle today..” She says simply. Jack opens his mouth to argue more just as Santos walks over to them.
“Need an attending. Old patient. Came in through ambulance. She’s gonna need stitches..” She says with a heavy sigh that shows her own midday exhaustion.
“I’ll take it. Dr. Y/N was just clocking out..” Jack says. Y/N gives him a look.
“You’re so kind, Dr. Abbot. But I’ve got it.” She says shortly before nodding for Santos to follow her, much to Jack’s dismay..
“You know…” A voice comes from behind Jack, making him breathe out. “When you and Dr. Y/N first reported your relationship, I gave Gloria my word you two would rarely associate at work..” Robby states as he walks right over to stand at Jack’s side.
“Robby…” Jack mutters, as if warning that he’s not in the mood.
“‘No, Gloria. No one needs to move stations. I trust my doctors to be casual in the workplace. This is an ED, not love island..’..” Robby mocks anyways. Jack raise an eyebrow as he eyes his friend now.
“Love island?” He asks.
“Not the point.” Robby states with a firm shake of his head, as if not wanting to get into that right now.
“I’m behaving. For now..” Jack mutters. “Just… Worried..” He says softly.
Robby’s teasing presence cuts short at that, gently squeezing Jack’s shoulder in silent assurance…
*
*
*
“My father used to worry about her all the time..” The young college girl mutters as she steps outside of the hospital room with Y/N so Santos can handle the stitches her mother now needed.
“I’m sure.” Y/N says, voice calm. “According to her charts, she’s… Epileptic…” Y/N begins softly. The young girl shakes her head at that. Not to denounce the fact, but to show she’s lost as to how to handle all of this.
“Yeah. She’s… On medication, but.. I.. I don’t know..” The girl mutters, stressed as she holds herself.
Y/N opens her mouth to question that, but slows her roll. “I’m sorry, let me fully introduce myself. My name is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N..” Y/N says instead, wanting to come off as compassionate..
“Sasha.” The girl mutters, shaking Y/N’s hand. “Is she gonna be okay?” Sasha asks before Y/N can speak further. Y/N hesitates at answering that.
“She’s… Lucky all she did was cut her chin on the way down.” Y/N finally lands on. “And that your little brother was home.” She adds on as both women turn to eye the 12-year old boy who had called 911 when he’d first heard the bang from the bathroom.
“You said she’s on medication?” Y/N continues.
“Yeah. But.. My dad always made sure she stuck to it. And her doctor appointments. He was on top of everything..” Sasha mutters.
“Was?” Y/N asks as she can’t help but picture Jack in the back of her mind..
“He passed. Almost a month ago. And… Now it’s just.. Her and my brother in that house. I live on campus..” Sasha sighs as she rubs her forehead.
Y/N opens her mouth to speak when she feels it. Building..
Oh no..
The nausea has hit her. She knew exactly what was coming next, so she’s able to stiffen the look of disgust on her face when she feels it. A metallic taste filling her mouth. She usually sits down at this point because the dizziness will start up soon enough. She knows soon the feeling in the pit of her stomach will change from a butterfly flutter to a twisting and turning.
But she’s at her job.
She’s with a patient.
And she can’t lay down…
‘Not here. Not now..’ Is all she can think before the dots begin to flood her vision. She can no longer hear Sasha anymore.
Fuck.
“Are you… Okay?” Sasha asks slowly, noting how pale Y/N seemed to be getting.
“One…” Y/N manages to breathe out before she turns fast, rushing to the nurse’s station, hoping she can get there in time. Hoping she can at least sit down.
Jack is in the middle of talking with Dana when he sees Y/N from the corner of his eye. She practically stumbles against the countertop, gripping it tightly, breathing uneven. He sees the fear in her eyes, her uneven breathing, and instantly knows what comes next. “Shit.” He says, moving away from Dana as fast as he can.
Javadi, who’d been at the nurse’s station to read the patient logs, pauses as she notices Y/N too. “Dr. Y/N?” She asks as she moves closer to check on her.
It all happens so fast…
“Catch her!” Jack shouts as he watches Y/N’s shoulders tense and her legs stiffen. She starts to fall and Javadi is so startled that she doesn’t reach out to grab her till Y/N has already hit the floor, landing on her left arm.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?! I said catch her!” Jack snaps at Javadi, not thinking straight anymore.
“I didn’t… I don’t…” She stammers a bit as Jack gets on his knees beside Y/N. He carefully wraps an arm around her upper, moving to sit on the floor with her in his lap. She’s as stiff as a board, muscles twitching and jaw tight.
“I got you, baby. I got you…” He whispers to her, seeing the fear in her as he holds her face with his right hand, his left arm still wrapped around her tense shoulders, holding her across his lap. As Dana curses quietly. Javadi watches in shock and a few other hospital staff try getting closer to see what’s really going on.
“Give her some room!” Dana begins to shout orders as Jack focuses only on Y/N.
He keeps his face neutral and calm. He needs to be her rock right now. He needs to hide the fact that this is breaking him to his very core.
That it’s hurting his heart to see her look so terrified and out of control. He whispers repeatedly that he’s got her now. That it’s gonna be okay. His voice cracks a bit when he watches the way her eyes gloss over for a moment…
Jack braces himself, tears in his eyes as he watches her head go back. Like it’s being forced back. Choked air wheezes from her, air that’s being forced out of rigid chest muscles. It causes her to let out a sudden groan as she goes completely ridged.
He holds her through it. Forcing himself to focus on how long she’s out for. He counts the seconds before her head jolts back up. She’s back to reality, gasping for the air her lungs were forced to squeeze out.
10 seconds.
The longest 10 seconds of his life…
*
*
*
Her head is fuzzy.
That’s to be expected in this moment though.
She sits in the hospital bed with water and orange juice both in front of her. And a cookie that Dana had snuck in. Jack hasn’t moved his forehead off of her hand yet. She hasn’t spoken yet. She doesn’t even know if Jack knows that she’s awake yet.
She opens her mouth to speak, but she doesn’t know what to truly say. Maybe a sorry? Maybe a hi? Maybe an assurance that she’s okay now?
“If you wanna be mad at me…” She finally settles on, her voice a bit hoarse. “Just… Keep in mind I have a hurt shoulder now..” She says gently. Jack doesn’t move.
“Like… Really hurt.” She tries sheepishly. Still no response. “Like, it might need to be kissed better, kind of hurt..” She says gently, trying to lighten the mood in the hospital room they were alone in.
“Y/N…” Jack breathes out finally.
“I’m sorry.” The two words slip out automatically. It was better than the alternative of Jack being pissed at her.
He looks up at her finally, his eyes showing just how concerned he was. His dark brown eyes were as somber as oak wood in the dead of winter.
It makes Y/N frown..
“What am I gonna do with you?” He finally whispers.
“Love me anyways?” Y/N asks hopefully, voice slightly timid as Jack sighs, looking down at the hospital bed she lays in.
“I should’ve been more on top of myself. I’m so sorry I put you through that again..” She mutters after another beat of silence.
The first, and only other, time Jack had seen Y/N like that was before they even started dating.
An eight car pile up at happened on the local freeway, and Y/N felt it coming on, so she ran straight to the break room. Jack had followed her in and caught her before she could hit the ground because she wasn’t fast enough to get to the chair.
That was the first time Y/N got a real good look at his eyes.
Jack watches her for a moment longer before he breaks, moving over slowly to cup her face. He kisses her tenderly and she tries to kiss back, but she can feel a headache forming. He pulls back a bit, stroking her hair. “I…” He begins quietly as he holds her face carefully. She bites her lip at his tone of voice.
“Am going to keep an eye on your levels..” He says ever so softly, watching her face closely. “And when they’re balanced… I’m gonna take you home. And when we get home, I’m going to run you a hot bubble bath with epsom salt for your shoulder. And then you will stay in bed, resting, while I worry about dinner tonight. And you’re not going to fight me… On any of this…” He says as he looks at her. Y/N presses her lips together at the plan, knowing she truly has no say right now.
“Okay…” She whispers. He pecks her lips tenderly and mumbles for her to drink her juice and water. He stands up and she settles in the bed again, looking down at her hands.
“Before I fainted…” Y/N begins when Jack is about to leave. He pauses and turns to her. “My patient… Her husband used to take care of her. And now she’s on her own. And I think… It just got me thinking about…” She trails off as she sheepishly messes with the hospital sheets. Jack slowly walks back over to her.
“I bet… He lived his life happily caring for her. Because having her in his life… Was worth it all..” Jack states confidently as he cradles the back of her head carefully as he watches her. “Every moment was a fair trade..” He whispers before kissing her forehead, making her blush a bit. He slowly steps back from the bed again.
“Even the moments where she was a stubborn pain in his ass.” He adds with a small smirk. Y/N playfully glares. He walks back over to the door and Y/N grabs the orange juice and pauses a bit.
“Where are you going?” She finally asks.
“Gonna go give a still very frightened med student a sincere apology..” He mutters sheepishly, recalling his blow up at Javadi.
“Oh god.” Y/N mumbles. “Jack! What did you do?!” She fusses softly as Jack quickly exits the room.
tags: michael "robby" robinavitch x reader, baby jane doe, talks of abandonment, soft reader meets immoveable force robby, mentions of suicide, sabbatical, loving isn't always easy, angsty, comfort, good ending, medical inaccuracies, mentions of miscarriages, not edited lol, always ooc robby, 18+ MDNI
notes: i've had this idea stuck in my head for a little bit and finally got around to writing it! I hope you all like this! and if you'd like to join my permanent master list, please comment here! enjoy!
word count: 4.1k
Robby hadn’t meant to be away from his phone for very long, but between the chaos of July 4th and the preeminent doubts of if he’d actually be coming back after three months, the device had been farthest from his mind and even farther from his pocket.
Even now as he towered over the bassinet, the only thing on Robby’s mind was how innocent the small creature was compared to the tons-heavy load he carried in his soul, and how both of them, two sides of the scale, had been left to face the world alone. His chest ached more than it ever did; each breath desperately pushing against his ribs like they were trying to break free. Each small sound the baby made had Robby freezing, waiting for her to cry out like she had earlier. But each time, she ended up contently sighing before stilling, wide eyes looking up at him and his sorrow ladened face.
He couldn’t help but reach out, desperate for one more small grasp of her entire, tiny hand around the width of his finger. A small chuckle bubbled from his chest when she was quick to do what he was wishing for.
“You have a good grip,” he muttered with a small smile. “That’s good; means you’re already so nice and strong.” His smile slowly dropped. “You’re going to be just fine.” He paused before adding, “That’s more than I can say about myself.”
All day, he withered away under the sad stares of his colleagues. Dana had briefly mentioned that she was nervous for him, Jack tried to get him to understand that, if he gave life a chance, everything could be better, and hell, even Whitaker tried to laugh about his offering of his house—not home, because it was too sterile to be called that—if he actually never returned. But when he saw the hopelessness in Baran’s eyes after he chastised her and threatened her job, or when he saw the burning resentment build in Samira’s after he degraded her for something so normal as a panic attack, or when he saw humiliation in Frank’s after he’d pretend not to care about his once protégé who was able to get his act together far better than he would ever, Robby couldn’t help but think that, yes, they were all going to be so much better without him.
Robby couldn’t survive without the Pitt, but the Pitt could thrive without Robby.
Without even realizing, tears started dripping down his cheeks again.
He tried to wipe them away with his unoccupied hand, but the streams kept coming and coming, years of stunted and repressed emotions finally coming out in waves against the sand of his skin.
How pathetic he thought himself to be. You have friends, a job, a house, and you’re crying while this baby has no one, and she’s perfectly content to hold onto your touch-starved finger.
It couldn’t have been a few more mere minutes of enjoying the small bit of company before the door burst open, Robby’s shoulders hunching and body tensing instinctively. But his finger stayed still in the baby girl’s finger, every ounce of his body not wanting to be the cause of more cries from her little lungs.
His neck turned stiffly, allowing his eyes to meet Dana’s gray hues. He looked back down quickly almost to hide the state of his obvious tear-stained face.
“Yeah, Dana?” he asked gruffly.
If she was about to lay it on him again, then he might have to leave the room and get headed on the road before anyone could stop him from leaving. That’s where he was supposed to be. He should have left the moment his shift was over with his bike between his legs, engine rumbling as he sped down the interstate, letting his hair freely catch the wind. He shouldn’t still be in the room, letting this abandoned baby hold onto him like a lifeline, allowing her to touch his tainted hands.
“Phone’s been ringing off the hook, Cap,” she stated, holding the device up in one hand. “Ya currently have ten missed calls and a handful of messages.”
Robby’s brows furrowed. He didn’t know who would be calling him that much when everyone who seemed to care about him was currently within the Pitt’s walls.
“Is there a caller ID?” he asked, spine straightening while his finger stayed still.
“Just a number,” she responded before walking the device over to him.
Once it was in Robby’s hand, the device fell silent under his gaze. He thumbed through the messages without unlocking the phone, but as he strolled, the generic Please call me and Please answer it’s an emergency did nothing to help his utter confusion. For a moment, he wondered if someone had the wrong number until the first message at the very bottom read Michael, please pick up.
He had barely been able to type a few words into the message bar—one handed mind you—when the phone buzzed again, the same number flashing across the screen. He didn’t hesitate to swipe across for the call to go through.
“This is Michael Robinavitch,” he said into the speaker.
“Michael?” the shaky voice answered, and a small thank God followed in a whisper.
Robby should have recognized the number, but the sound of your voice solidified his realization. However, his short-lived confusion quickly turned into deepened concern when your sob echoed in his ear and was trailed by a series of unintelligible words filled with harsh breathing and a few muffled whimpers.
“Hey, hey,” he said. “Sweetheart, I need you to breathe.”
Dana, who wasn’t privy to what you were saying, or at least trying to say, widened her eyes at the casual pet name that Robby said without much thought, almost like it was familiar between his teeth and tongue.
Robby paid no mind to the charge nurse, suddenly more concerned with figuring out what the hell was going on. He couldn’t help but wince at the shuddering inhale and exhale that you took at his authority.
“Okay, okay,” he said after a few more quiet moments. “What’s going on?”
You whimpered again in response. “M-my ex w-was supp-supposed to—oh, fuck—”
It hurt him to hear you so close to hyperventilating while he could only listen. “Hey,” he said a bit harder, trying to get you out of a panic. “You need to breathe before I can even try to help you with what’s going on, okay?”
Dana got his attention with a wave of her hand. Robby looked up in time to see her mouth Do I need to call 911? to which he shook his head and mouthed back Not yet.
When your breathing slowed a bit, you tried again. “He was supposed to be taker our—my baby to an app-appoint-appointment and now—” Another failed attempt at keeping another whimper in. “Now he doesn’t ha-have her and w-won’t tell me where sh-she is.”
Robby’s grip on his phone tightened to the point of his knuckles going white, his eyes briefly falling to the baby who currently had fallen asleep holding onto him.
“I-I know sometimes people take them to f-fire stations, but I called each one in the area, a-and they all said that no one’s dropped any b-babies off. Then I tried hospitals, and r-remembered you worked at one, and I just—” You inhale sounded watery this time. “Just hoped that you might h-have heard something,” you squeaked out the last bit, already biting back another sob. “I’m so-sorry for calling, but—”
“How old is your baby, sweetheart?” he asked calmly.
“Five weeks,” you sniveled out. “She’s five weeks today. And—oh gosh—how could this happen?”
He could almost imagine you gripping your hair and tugging tightly at the roots as you spoke, something he knew you’d do under duress. He’d seen it happen too many times to count throughout college and well into adulthood.
“Do you know the last time he had her?”
“He picked her up t-this morning. I’m so fucking stupid,” you hissed, voice sounding the steadiest since the call went through. “I had work, and my mom couldn’t take her so-so I thought—I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Robby leaned over the bassinet again, eyes quickly scanning the sleeping baby, finger released form her grip in order to pull her small onesie down just enough to see her shoulder. “Does she have any identifying marks?”
The line went silent for a split second. “She has a small birthmark on her shoulder. I swear it looks like messed up puzzle piece.”
A rush of air filled Robby’s lungs to the point he felt dizzy. Staring up at him was the exact, described mark on Baby Jane’s shoulder. The baby that he’d been spilling his woes to was your baby, belonging to the girl who’d truly had his heart for years.
“Sweetheart—” he began before you interrupted him.
“I’m so sorry for calling so much, but I thought that if anyone knew anything, it’d be you.”
Robby held the phone silently to his ear. You could have called anyone: the police, the main line, other hospitals where they might not have taken you seriously. Instead, after calling the firehouses with the drop boxes, you called him.
“Earlier today,” he started, his voice now on the edge of also being shaky, “one of my nurses found a baby in the waiting room.”
Robby kept the part about where exactly in the waiting room she was found in to himself. He closed his eyes at your sudden, hopeful gasp.
“A heathy, happy, and unharmed baby we estimated to be around six weeks.” He paused. “She has the mark, sweetheart. I think we have your baby here.”
_______________________
You knew you probably looked like an escaped insane asylum patient.
Wide eyes, trembling hands, hair messed up from pulling on it one too many times: all the wonkiness of your appearance was just a physical manifestation of hours upon hours of stress beyond measure. You tried to reign it in, but ever since Robby confirmed that your spiteful ex, in attempts to push you over the edge, had abandoned your baby all while you were working, your emotions were close to bursting out of skin.
Somehow though, you managed to wade through the crowd waiting to be seen and get to the plexiglass shielded clerk desk without startling anyone. The kind woman behind the shield smiled up at you.
“What brings you in, honey?”
Your fingers twirled the ring around your pointer. “I’m here to see Michael Robinavitch?”
Robby hadn’t told you where to come in, and even if he had, your head spun so fast that most of the words he said after I think we have your baby here was everything but audible past the roar of blood in your ears. You’d jumped into your car and drove straight here. And even if he had reassured that your baby was unharmed, you couldn’t be convinced until she was back in your arms.
The woman had barely opened her mouth to answer before the door to your right clicked opened with Robby’s hand splayed widely against the metal and his body standing in the space between the waiting room and the ER.
“Hey, sweetheart. You wanna come with me?” he asked, eyes filled with a soft kindness that had your tummy flipping.
You could barely contain the bob of your head as you walked over. Without even thinking much, you took a handful of Robby’s green pull over. Robby either didn’t care or didn’t notice since he said nothing while he took deliberate steps toward the room that had been housing the baby since there hadn’t been any room in the pediatric ward.
He held the door open, and you quickly slipped past him, stopping just a few feet inside when you noticed the room wasn’t completely empty. A blond woman was currently hovering over the medical bassinet, however, she looked up at the sound of the door opening, her mouth stretching into a small smile.
Robby let the door shut behind him, placing his hand on the small of your back before introducing you to the woman. “Dana’s our dayshift charge nurse. She made sure that if your baby needed anything, she’d get it.”
You nodded mutely, slightly taken back by how sure Robby said your baby like something inside him subconsciously knew that she belonged to you and you alone.
“You have a fine baby here,” Dana said, voice twanged with an accent. “Spent all day being loved on by our staff and taking naps between.”
“Thank you,” you whispered, not taking your eyes off the squirming baby. “Can I?”
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” Robby murmured with a soft push.
Your steps were ginger and quiet as you walked closer. The moment your eyes traced her familiar features, a quiet sob bubbled through your lips. At the sound, your baby turned her head, small eyes tracking your face, even if you knew all she could probably see was a large blob. It wasn’t long until your hands were gently sliding under her neck and bottom and lifting her close to your face. You couldn’t help but heave a sigh of relief as you nuzzled into her soft cheek.
Apparently, the feeling was familiar enough that it made the baby smile slightly. She grunted and cooed against you as your hold readjusted her onto your chest. Her small hands immediately clenched fistfuls of your shirt while her head stayed pressed to your front.
Robby and Dana couldn’t help but smile when you began to sway and gently press kisses onto her small head.
“Hi, Shelly,” you muttered, nose taking in so much of her baby scent. “My sweet baby.” Your eyes watered to the point even a few blinks didn’t clear up your eyesight. You kept her close as you spun to face the other two occupants of the room. “Thank you both so, so much.”
Dana smiled warmly. “We’re just glad she has a home.” Her grey eyes subtly glanced at Robby. “Now, I’m going to find our social worker, and get you some paperwork before you can take your little one home.”
Your grip tightened ever so slightly. “Social worker?”
Robby was quick to answer. “Just part of the process of getting her home. How bout I stay with you while Dana here gets all that in order.”
With another nod of your head, the blond slipped out the door, leaving you and Robby alone with your baby, whose eyes were currently looking right over in his direction, something you didn’t miss at all.
“She’s looking at you,” you softly said, eyes downcast at the top of her head. “Must mean she likes you.” You looked up at him. “Michael, I just can’t begin to thank you—”
You stopped when he held up a hand.
“No need,” he interrupted. “It’s all part of my job, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, well, you stayed on the phone with me and talked me out of a panic. I count that as something.”
Robby took a step closer, his right shoulder leaning a bit on your left as he looked down at her. “You made a very cute baby. Can’t believe how much time has passed since . . .”
You glanced up over your shoulder and into his brown, sad eyes. “It has; hasn’t it? What are you up to? Other than running an emergency department, I mean. You used to talk about doing so all the time, but you must have a hobby or something.”
He hesitated because, really, other than the ER he had nothing, meanwhile it seemed like you had done everything that he wanted: have a partner, get married, build a family. With a shake of his head, he rid himself of those thoughts. His hand rose and scratched at the back of his neck, blunt nails digging into his skin.
“Other than my upcoming sabbatical, I don’t have very much going on,” he replied, voice tired and worn beyond anything you’d ever heard.
“Oh.” You finally turned around fully, Shelly now the only thing between the two of you. “Well then, I must insist you come over for dinner. I know it’s late and that you have plans, Micheal, but please.” With all of Shelly’s weight in one arm, you gently rested your other hand on his bicep. “For us?”
Now, truly, there was a lot that could make Micheal Robinavitch say no. Plans made between residents for drinks after shift were always politely declined, women who got the hots for the doctor title were horribly left on read after the second date, and urges to go to therapy by his closest friend were quickly shoved into his back pocket.
However, one of the few things that could actually break his will power was the soft look you were giving him right now. The one that made it seem like the large gap of years hadn’t passed at all. The one he always thought was full of love before the two of you found different paths to take.
He found himself agreeing before his brain even caught up. “Dinner sounds great.”
And if he could keep that shining smile on your face for a bit longer, Robby decided that he’d stay for as long as possible just to see you look up at him like that.
_______________________
Dinner, in his opinion, was the best meal he’d eaten in a long while. Between the sabbatical countdown and endless shifts that only gave him a few minutes to shove a bite of protein bar between his teeth, Robby was never one to make dinner or meal prep once he went back to his house. The walls were there only to shield him from the outside as he slept fitfully.
But here in your home—home not house, because obviously you made the building into something warm—he found himself wishing he could stay forever. You had even let him hold onto Shelly while you cooked, letting your baby sleep against his heart like she’d known his feeling for ages. His big hands almost engulfed her entire, tiny body, and he caught you looking his way several more times than he thought necessary.
Robby hadn’t even realized how late it was by the time you put Shelly down to sleep, he was sunken into your couch with his glass from dinner, and you were tucked into the opposite corner. The sky outside held no indication that the sun was still visible, and he knew that his time with you was slowly winding down.
“I should probably head out,” he mentioned with a sigh, like saying that was physically hurting him.
He tried to ignore the small frown that tugged on your mouth.
“But it’s so dark out already,” you replied.
“Fine by me. There’ll probably be fewer cars out there on the road if I leave soon instead of waiting for the morning.”
“Oh.”
Robby hated the way that sounded in your mouth. You quickly looked around your house almost as if you were trying to find something that’d make him stay. For that, he made no action to actually move from his spot on in the cushions.
You finally gave up and looked down into your glass. “You know, it’s okay to ask.”
He knew what you meant. Throughout the night, he tried his best to not to bring up the man that all but threw your baby away while she had a perfectly good home waiting for her. The social worker had made sure to tell him that there were definitely no signs of abuse or neglect on your side, and a flood of relief and a knowing understanding had bloomed beneath his ribs. He knew you’d never put that baby girl in danger from the way you were so heartbroken about not knowing where she had been for the entire day. But a thorn of concern had buried itself into his side.
“I didn’t want to overstep,” he replied after a moment of quiet. “But . . .” he trailed, giving you the space to fill in.
“Me and Brandon met soon after we parted ways. Thought that he was the one for me; you knew I’ve always wanted a family.” Your arms wrapped around your middle. “We got married, had a nice few years without kids before we even began to start trying.”
In a split second, all Robby wanted to do was scoop you up into his arms
Your pointer finger picked at your thumb. “We had some complications, had a few miscarriages, and I completely gave up.”
This time, Robby did unfold his arms and gesture for you to scooch closer. You quickly pushed yourself out of the dip and into his chest, sighing softly when you rested against him.
“I thought that I’d never get to be a mother until last year. I guessed that the pregnancy wouldn’t last and then the next thing I know she’s in my arms.”
He felt the way you tensed before relaxing. “We finally had her.” You paused before adding. “And then I found out that he’d been cheating on me for months. I should’ve seen the signs when he missed pretty much all of my appointments.”
You looked up at Robby, and he was already looking down at you as well.
“You didn’t deserve any of that, sweetheart,” he muttered, chest rumbling in loathe and a dash of jealousy. “He’s a fucking son of a bitch for that.”
If you were his, he would have been there for you at every moment, every scan, every fucking second by your side, his hand in yours.
You hummed in agreement. “I’m just glad I didn’t pick the name he wanted.”
Robby cocked his head, a smirk lacing his mouth. “Oh yeah? Was it going to be something stupid like Brandon Junior?”
“Oh, yeah,” you giggled. “He wanted Brenda. There was no way he was going to win though; she’s my baby.”
“Well, I think you picked the sweetest name. Shelly suits her.”
You bit down on your lip, not knowing if you should say the next thing on your mind. But having Robby be your personal back rest, you couldn’t keep it in anymore.
“Shelly’s just her nickname. Her full name is Michelle.” You looked up at Robby expectantly, but he just kept looking at you with that soft expression. You smiled at him, hand raising to gentle rest against his beard. “Michael, her name’s Michelle.”
It was almost as if all air was sucked out of his body.
“Michelle?” he croaked. “Why-why?”
“Because maybe I wanted to keep a piece of you, the man who believed in me and listened to all my dreams, even if I can’t have you.”
Robby blinked slowly, lips loose from his drink. “You can have me.”
“You’re about to go on your trip, Michael. I’m not going to keep you here, somewhere you don’t want to stay, just because I finally found you again.” You tore your eyes away from his. “I can’t be that selfish. Even I can see how much you’re hurting.”
You expected him to push you off. You expected him to slam out the door. You expected him to drive off and never turn back.
What you didn’t expect him to do was take your hands in his and hold them and keep you against him.
“I’ll come back,” he whispered into the small space between you two. “I’ll come back to you.”
Your head shook. “I can’t ask that of you. I can’t—” The sentence died between your lips and Robby’s finger gently pressing against your mouth.
“Listen to me, sweetheart. For years, I’ve been looking for a reason to stay, to live. I’ve tried to find that reason, and I had pretty much given up on finding something like that.” His eyes glossed over in blink. “But the moment you walked through the doors, the moment you held your baby, the moment you invited me to dinner, and the moment you let me hold you, I finally found my reason.”
Words escaped your mind at his confession, and the only next logical thing to do was sit and mull over his words. However, when dealing with Robby, all logic flew out the window just as you pressed your lips against his in a desperate motion.
Robby was quick to reciprocate, his hands cradling your cheeks just as he’d cradled your daughter, who you chose to share his namesake in your darkest moments. His thumb brushed away the slight wetness growing under your lashes. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt and held strongly, and your torso twisted to press your front against his.
You pulled back slightly, face staying within Robby’s hands. “Stay,” you breathed. “Stay.”
His nose brushed against yours as he nodded. “I’ll stay.”
summary: It's been a long shift for Jack—luckily, he has you waiting for him at home.
tags: fluff
word count: 800+
a/n: a little blurb written in the D:M? universe. it can be read as a separate piece but there are references (nightly singing :D) that won't make much sense if you haven't read the series. hope you like it! <33
Diagnosis: Married | Masterlist
The Pitt | Masterlist
Main | Masterlist
Jack's tired.
It's been a long twelve hours in the Pitt, barely a second to sit down with one trauma rolling in after another. His leg started aching around hour five, and a dull headache started thrumming behind his eyes by hour eight.
The only thing that kept him moving was the thought of you waiting for him at home.
Through every exhausting hour of the night, he'd carried the image of you with him—your sleepy smile, the way his t-shirt would hang off one shoulder when you shifted beneath the blankets to make room for him.
He could almost feel it already: the warmth of the bed, the familiar weight of your head settling into the space between his shoulder and neck as if it had been made for you. Even half-asleep, your hand would find its way to his chest, your fingers tracing absent, comforting patterns against his skin.
It's all he's thinking about when he leaves the Pitt. It's all he's thinking about when he takes the fast way home, weaving through familiar streets with a tiredness settled deep in his bones. By the time he finally reaches his door and turns the key in the lock, he can almost feel it already.
It takes him a second to realise something's different.
The house isn't quiet like usual.
Jack hangs up his jacket to the sound of blaring music echoing down the hallway as a sweet smell drifts towards him. He slows when a softer voice joins in as he makes his way into the house.
It's yours.
Jack rounds the corner and leans against the doorway. From there, he can see you standing at the stove. You flip a pancake, then lift the spatula to your lips like a microphone, belting along completely unabashed.
His lips spread into a wide smile. For a moment, he doesn't say anything. He just stands there and watches.
You're swaying slightly to the music, completely unaware he's there. One of his old t-shirts hangs off one shoulder, and there's a faint dusting of flour across your cheek.
God, he loves you.
The song ends, and he finally starts clapping. "That was a nice performance," he grins. "Almost better than the nightly ones."
You let out a startled yelp, nearly launching the spatula across the kitchen. "Jesus. What the fuck, Jack?"
His laugh comes out tired but genuine as he pushes away from the doorway and crosses the room. "Sorry."
You glare at him over your shoulder. "No, you're not."
"No," he agrees.
Your glare lasts all of three seconds before he reaches you. His hands settle automatically on your waist, thumbs brushing back and forth over your shirt. The ache in his leg is still there. The headache, too. But being close to you makes both seem a little quieter.
He ducks his head, pressing a kiss to your temple.
You try to stay annoyed, but your mouth twitches. "You're home early," you mumble.
"Thank god, I was." He wraps both arms around your middle and rests his chin on your shoulder. "Would've missed the concert."
You groan.
"Encore?" he asks.
"I'm charging you for that."
"No husband discount?"
"No husband discount."
"Hm." His nose brushes your cheek, then your jaw, before he presses a lingering kiss beneath your ear. "I don't mind paying full price."
You finally turn in his arms, one hand settling against his chest. Now that you're standing face-to-face, there's no hiding how exhausted he is.
Your expression softens immediately. "Long day?"
"The longest." His forehead drops against yours. For a moment, neither of you says anything. The music continues quietly in the background while you smooth a hand through the hair at the back of his neck.
His arms tighten instinctively around your waist, and he lets more of his weight settle against you, holding you a little closer. Your hips sway gently together.
He closes his eyes. Home. This is home.
Then you gasp. "Oh, no." You twist around. "My pancake."
Smoke curls up from the pan. He watches as you rescue what is now essentially a hockey puck. You stare at it. He stares at it.
"It's a little crispy," he offers.
"It's charcoal."
"I like charcoal."
You snort. "You are such a liar." Jack grins as you point the spatula at him. "Go shower. I need to focus."
"Bossy."
"Jack."
He steals one last kiss anyway, quick and warm, then another because you smile halfway through the first one.
"Go."
"Going." His hand slides across your hip as he passes, giving you a gentle squeeze.
Behind him, he hears you start singing again before he's even reached the hallway. His smile follows him all the way to the bathroom. It isn't what he'd spent the last twelve hours imagining.
could i please request a fic where jack is dating reader who is a wildlife vet and while she's working things go wrong and she gets bit by a venemous snake. Fluffy ending after jack being a wreck at the thought of losing her
💞Tags/Warnings💞: slight age gap relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff, SmallTown!Reader x CityBoy!Jack Abbot
💞Plot💞: After one misstep, Jack Abbot’s worst fear comes true…
💞Characters💞: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader
💞Title💞: Bad Luck
💞A/N💞: Thank you sm! I really hope you like it!
((Requests are ALWAYS open))
Masterlist
“John Digby. Look at you. Comin in for another haircut?” Dana asks pleasantly as the lanky man smiles shyly at the attention.
Night shift had fully taken over, but Dana couldn’t pass up the chance at catching up with one of her personal favorite ‘frequent flyers’..
“My friends need help..” Digby says, voice small as if he doesn’t wanna be a bother. Dana eyes the blanket bunched up in his arms.
“Yeah..” She says slowly. Benji would blow his lid at her being late. Tonight was their annual movie night, but.. She had to see what the hell this was all about..
Squirrels.
It was about squirrels.
Two to be exact. See, Digby had been enjoying his night at the local park when he saw the two squirrels. They’d gotten caught in a broken part of the fence. One had it’s tail take the worst of it, and the other its side…
Thinking fast, Digby had taken his blanket and caught the squirrels with it, knowing they’d easily attack if they didn’t have something to cover them. Then he wondered in here, claiming he couldn’t find his ‘usual girl’. When he’d unwrapped the blankets, both squirrels took that as their chance to run.
“We have had mice, we have had stray cats..” Ellis complains. “Hell, we have had pigeons!” She huffs as Lena makes quick work at checking the books on who to call while Jack rubs his face.
He should’ve taken the night off..
“I draw the line at squirrels!” Ellis continues simply.
“Relax!” Lena assures. “Go around and make sure no patient finds out. I’m calling animal control right now..” She says simply.
“No!” Digby says fast as Dana, who’s kind of glad she didn’t run off yet, moves to gently pat his shoulder. “They’ll just kill em!” He says to Dana. “Get Dr. Y/N. She can help.” He nods certainly as he pulls out a crumbled up card from his pocket.
Looks were exchanged and debated whispers were had, but eventually, Dana was the one to actually call the number.
It was 7:40pm when Y/N finally showed up.
Jack would never forget that time. It was the beginning of the best part of his life…
Y/N had worked fast. Efficiently. She had set up non-threatening traps to catch the two trouble markers, and when placed into a dark box, she spoke to them softly and warmly. As if they could understand her. As if they could trust her. Jack had let her do her work in peace, sure. He was never one to want to flirt with a woman while she was on the clock, but he did keep an eye on said clock.
She couldn’t be on it forever.
“That was a good catch, Digby. How much do I owe you?” Y/N asks gently as the older man shyly shrugs, wanting to reject the idea of money..
“No no. You’re my eyes and ears, remember? Keeping the small animals of Pittsburgh safe.” Y/N assures gently as she slips some cash into Digby’s hand. He gratefully accepts. Jack watches on from his place at the nurse’s station, pretending to actually be listening to Lena..
“I hope they get better..” Digby says gently as Y/N assures him that she’ll make sure they will. Thanks to him.
Jack knew at that moment that Y/N was the one.
So he helped her to her car with the boxes. And he listened to her talk about how she’d first met Digby after her first week here in Pittsburgh. How he is always bringing her injured animals that he finds and she pays him for being her ‘doctor on the move’.
He learns about her big move to a big city, and how deep her love for animals really is. He listens as she complains so passionately about that damn gate in the park. How poor animals are always getting caught in it and how the city does nothing. At a certain point, he respectfully interrupts.
“Would you wanna… Grab some coffee tomorrow morning?” He asks quietly. Y/N pauses, setting the boxes in her car as she sheepishly eyes Jack.
He was handsome.
But she had been told over and over again at her going away party to be weary of handsome city boys..
“I’ll… Think about it.” She says politely, voice soft and Jack hums gently. That’s all he needs. Numbers were swapped and long glances were shared, but the two had left it at that.
Until the next morning.
Because if you asked Jack Abbot about Y/N Y/L/N.. With his full chest he’d tell you that he knew he liked her that very night.
But if you asked Y/N… She’d tell you she knew the very next day.
Because that was the day she’d drop the squirrels off in the park, and find Jack Abbot fixing the gate..
*
*
*
Jack could barely find his footing.
It all felt off today. Everything felt wrong, and he couldn’t put his finger on why. Walking into the ED, Robby is first to greet him with a firm hand on his shoulder. Jack stumbles a bit, making Robby eye him in concern.
“You alright?” He asks.
“Yeah. Uh.. Yeah. I got the 911. What’s up?” Jack asks, trying to shake it off. But mentally he goes through this morning in his head.
Clocked out at 6am, went to Y/N’s house, crawled into bed with her without showering. Was.. That it? He didn’t shower?
“Needed all hands. This thunderstorm’s supposed to be real bad. St. Peter’s Mercy already said they’re gonna start downsizing..” Robby explains as Jack nods along, only half listening.
No. It wasn’t the shower. Jack continues going through the morning. He held Y/N and fell asleep. Then he woke up to his phone ringing. It was Robby. That was at.. 10:23am.
Yeah. That was it. The early phone call.
Jack comes back into the conversation now, assuring that he’ll shoot a text over to Shen while Dana tries getting a hold of Ellis. He bites his lower lip though as he slips back into his own head when Robby starts debating where to put Santos and Whitaker for the day..
It wasn’t the call. That’s not what woke him up. It was… Y/N! Y/N had woke him up!
His eyes widen slightly as it finally dawns on him. “The kiss!” He says, stopping Robby’s conversation with Dana completely. Both eye him oddly.
“The what?” Dana asks with slight humor in her tone and clear as day on her face..
“Y/N woke me up this morning. Something about making a house call to some farm.. Ranch.. Place.” He waves his hand. “But I couldn’t kiss her because you called!” He continues as he motions towards Robby.
“I called?!” Robby asks in amusement, acting offended by the accusations.
“You costed me a morning kiss. Now I’m gonna be all off my game!” Jack states, completely serious as Dana snickers while walking away from the two men.
“It’s my fault you can’t multitask?” Robby jokes as Jack sighs softly, pulling out his phone to see if there was a text from Y/N. She had woken him up to tell him she was leaving, but before they could kiss, his phone rang from the nightstand.
He’d been half asleep.
He hasn’t been thinking right.
If he had, he would’ve let the damn phone go to voicemail and gladly kissed his girl. She had slipped out of the room while he was talking on the phone to Robby.
“Not funny. We haven’t skipped on a goodbye kiss in the almost year we’ve been together..” Jack sighs as he starts to write a text to her.
“It’s life. It happens.” Robby shrugs like it’s not a big deal, pausing though as he sees Jack trying to start a text. “What are you doing?” He chuckles.
“Gotta apologize…” Jack says like it’s obvious. Robby shakes his head.
“As much as that would entertain me, I need you at the ambulance bay, man. We’re gonna get flooded..” Robby states. Jack sighs, pocketing his phone for the moment. He’d message when he had a chance..
*
*
*
A chance never came..
Any time Jack thought he’d have a minute to text his long winded apology, something else would happen that would need his full attention.
It was frustrating to say the least..
He doesn’t know what time it is when Dana shouts about an incoming patient, but he steps back out on the ambulance bay. Robby coming to stand next to him. The ambulance pulls up and paramedic comes out. The awning stops them from getting soaked by this damn rain.
“Snake bite. Copperhead from what the assistant could tell us. She wanted to come straight here. Passed out now, vitals growing unstable.” The paramedic says as Robby walks over first to the now open ambulance doors. He freezes as what he sees. He quickly moves in front of Jack to stop him.
“I got this one, brother.” He says fast as Jack eyes him in confusion.
“I can do it..” Jack assures as he tries to walk around Robby to see the stretcher the paramedics are now rolling out.
“Abbot..” Robby warns as Jack falters in his steps when he gets a glimpse of that hair. Hair he always loves running his fingers through.
“What happened?” Jack breathes out, moving fast to be by her side. She’s sweaty and clammy. Her lips are an off shade as she lays there, looking… Undisturbed.
“Apparently snake attack while on duty. Right to the ankle…” The second paramedic says slowly, eyeing Jack oddly as the physician shakes his head. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.
“No. No, no, no..” He rushes out quietly under his breath as he takes charge. He had to make this right again..
Jack fully takes over, yanking the stretcher so he can roll it inside the ED, running it at this point. Robby chases after him. “Y/N? Baby? Hey. Open your eyes, baby…” He tries quietly as he rushes her inside the operating room.
“I need hands!” He screams roughly. Dana jumps at the sudden boom of his authoritative voice. Mel and Shen are quick to run into the room too.
Robby finally gets into the room, frowning softly as he watches his best friend, his brother, shakily work on the love of his life. “You can’t be working on her, man..” He tries as he walks closer so only Jack can hear him..
Jack doesn’t listen, doesn’t even look Robby’s way as he barks out orders. Orders for CroFab, for NSAIDs, for proper cleaning of the bite mark on Y/N’s right ankle.
“Abbot.” Robby tries again. “You aren’t thinking right. Your judgement is-“ Jack finally cuts Robby off, turning to stare him down with a hard warning sharp in his dark eyes.
“Get out of my way, Robby..” He whispers with all seriousness as Robby hesitates.
“Abbot-“ Jack cuts him off again.
“You either find something to do, or you get the fuck out of my way, man.” He snaps finally. Everyone in the room tries to ignore that, focusing solely on helping Y/N.
“I’m doing this..” Jack continues shortly. “You wanna stop me, you better call security.” He warns gruffly.
Robby sighs softly, slowly stepping aside to let Jack work on Y/N. He preps himself in order to help…
*
*
*
Y/N thinks she’s in her bed at first.
It’s a split second of normalcy where she believes everything she’s been through was just some bad dream.
But then the smell of sterilization and an unmistakable scent of disinfectant seeps into her nose. It almost burns.
Yup. It’s the hospital.
“I’m alive?” Are the first words out of her mouth, eyes struggling to open. It’s a joke, of course. To no one in particular, but.. She knows.
She knows he’s there.
As if to assure her of this, she’s blessed with his soft and breathy chuckle before a hand is on her cheek, lips being placed eagerly on her forehead and then her cheeks and then her nose. She can feel the slight dip of her hospital bed as he sits on the edge of it to fully hover above her, marking more territory that way.
She blushes as her eyes finally open. She relishes in his soft lips, his slight stubble, the way he can smell of sanitizer and Tom Ford..
She knew time had to be on her side the minute she felt the quick, sharp prick. It felt like being snapped by a heavy rubber band. She had used her phone to snap a picture of the snake as it slithered past.
Just in case it was needed for further medical planning.
Then she called 911 as her assistant helped get her to the farmhouse so she could wash the area with soap and water.
Sighing in contentment, Y/N touches Jack’s cheek when he stops his kisses to rest his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry..” She whispers as she watches him. He shakes his head fast. Now his eyes are shut, taking in every detail of this moment.
“Just rest. Just.. Please, just rest..” He whispers as if that’s all he wants from her right now. The look of relief is clear on his face as he puts his hand on hers and kisses her wrist, keeping his lips against her pulse point.
“I should’ve known better..” She sighs anyways. The room is quiet besides the rain on her window and the beeps of distant machines.
“But I was so dead set on getting reception so I could text you, I.. Didn’t even think to look at where I was stepping..” Y/N continues to speak, really wanting to explain how the hell she ended up here..
Jack pauses. “Text me?” He asks.
“I wanted to say sorry for leaving without kissing you goodbye.” She says and he pauses before laughing quietly, moving back a bit to shake his head in amusement.
“What?” Y/N asks sheepishly.
Jack slips out his phone and unlocks it, showing her the unfinished text he’d been working on all morning and afternoon. She sits up with a slight wince, grabbing the phone to read it.
‘Hey, acorn. I’m so so sorry about this morning. Should’ve kissed you. I’m completely off my game now. Hope you’re having a better da…’
Y/N sheepishly smiles and then silently nods at her bag of belongs for Jack to go through. He tenderly gets up and gets it for her so she can hand him her phone. He unlocks it and goes straight to messages, seeing she’d been in the middle of writing him something too.
‘Hate that I didn’t get to kiss you this morning, bear! Has me feeling off. Gonna have to make up for it late..’
“See what happens when we don’t kiss goodbye?” Jack finally teases quietly as he sets her phone down. She nods in agreement, giggling.
“It’s bad luck.” She agrees playfully before grabbing Jack by his face with both hands, leaning in for a much needed kiss. It’s like a shot of espresso for him and a much needed breather for her..
“Mm.. That’s the good stuff..” Jack mutters quietly against her lips, eyes still closed. It makes Y/N giggles as she goes back in for more…
summary: Jack Abbot is many things; a loving husband, a phenomenal doctor, a decorated war veteran, an adrenaline junkie, a lower-leg amputee, and (possibly) a mind reader. But he is not a father. In 4 years of marriage you haven't been able to surprise him even once. But maybe, for his 50th birthday, you can kill two birds with one stone.
warnings: age gap (r is mid 30s, jack is 50), established relationship, afab reader, reader is an attending, brief reference to past power imbalance, minor undescribed medical procedures, IUD insertion and removal mention, gifting someone a used medical device (its sweet and not weird I promise), mention of pap smears, misuse of viagra, slight anxiety, keeping secrets, mediocre communication, BREEDING KINK DUH, trying to get pregnant, mentions of plan b, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms for everyone, doggy style, missionary, biting, reader is a little bit of a brat, cum play, so much love, fast and hard and then slow and loving, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything
an: we are playing fast and loose with fertility and medicine here guys
I usually do not like writing multiple rounds of sex in one fic because tbh I find sex scenes a little hard to write and I worry that they get repetitive but I really pushed through for this one
Being married to Jack Abbot was a dream come true.
He was kind, empathetic, passionate, patient, fantastic in bed, and (this is just a theory) psychic.
Or you might just be easy to read. Either way, he almost always seemed to know what you needed or wanted at any given moment.
God forbid you wanted to surprise him with anything, either. He could sniff out any sort of deception, even if it was well intentioned, like some sort of emotional or mental bloodhound.
Jack was also always prepared for almost everything. He had supplies and a game plan for almost every situation and scenario that could possibly come up. Mass casualty incident? Camo duffel in the coat closet by the front door. You had a hard day? Bubble bath kit under his sink in the bathroom.
Combine all of that together and you’d never been able to surprise him. Ever.
Things were changing ever so slowly, though. Now, the two of you had been together for 7 years now, married for 4, so the playing field was starting to level out. You found yourself able to sift through his facial expressions and body language, deciphering some of the thoughts that crossed his mind. Some of it was the familiarity of your everyday routine, any deviation clueing you into something festering on his mind. Some of it was just knowing your husband so intimately in a way that could only come with time.
And even though you were as close to an expert as one could be in Jack Abbot, you still missed some of the more subtle things.
But there was nothing subtle about this. You’d have to have been blind to miss the longing in his eyes anytime the two of you were anywhere close to a baby. It was impossible not to notice how his usually stoic and analytical hazel eyes softened at the sight of their tiny waving hands, the corners of his lips curving up when they cooed, his gaze instinctively snapping towards a crying infant while his shoulders tensed.
Those signs had given you a rather obvious hint, but the final nail in the coffin had been when your sister and her wife had visited from Philly a few months ago. They had some sort of business to take care of in Pittsburgh, so you’d offered to watch their 6 month old son. Jack had been out running errands when he’d been dropped off. When he walked through the door, grocery bags in hand, you’d watched him freeze out of the corner of your eye. There you were, in your shared kitchen, balancing the baby on your hip, talking to the child about nothing in particular while you stirred a pot on the stove.
Jack had unfrozen quickly, but you’d noticed. You noticed everything for the rest of the day until your sister came to collect her child. How Jack swallowed hard anytime you held the baby, how he nearly melted when you cooed and played peek-a-boo, how his eyes stayed locked for just a moment too long on the teeny tiny pair of shoes in his hands before he passed them off to your sister.
Jack Abbot wanted a baby.
And you wanted to finally be able to catch your husband off guard.
And now his 50th birthday was coming up, and you had a great gift planned. And if everything went according to your carefully crafted plan, you’d be able to give him an even better gift next year.
Step 1: remove the biggest obstacle.
Being a doctor married to a doctor made the biggest part of your plan both easier and harder.
You started on Monday. His birthday fell on Friday, and the two of you very conveniently had the following 4 days off. But not before working opposite shifts every day the rest of the week.
That was part luck, part planning on your end. You’d gladly agreed to cover Al Hashimi’s shifts while the ED was down a day shift attending since she was going to a conference. Jack had not been thrilled, but your sacrifice meant the two of you could enjoy an extra-long weekend staycation. He’d grumbled about it for a solid 3 days before finally settling down.
It also gave you time to make a trip upstairs to gynecology while your husband was fast asleep at home and none the wiser.
All it took was a quick lie to Robby about a routine pap smear and a favor called in from a friend upstairs and you were seated with your legs hiked up in stirrups.
“You know, I really did not ever need to see your vagina,” Joan, your gynecologist friend, was grumbling as she completed the procedure.
“You’re the only one I could ask who wouldn’t spill the beans,” your eyes stayed glued on the ceiling. “Everyone else is either a resident and not willing to bend the rules, or older and more loyal to him.”
“This is a hospital,” her expression was unimpressed. “There are no sides, no one is more loyal to him.”
“Yes the fuck they are,” you lowered your legs as she gave you the all clear. “Why do you think I told Robby I was getting a pap smear?”
“Becuase telling your husband's best friend, who is your boss by the way, that you were going to get your contraception removed so that said husband can fuck you six ways to sunday for his birthday is inappropriate workplace conversation,” she turned her back to you, depositing the device in a specimen jar before beginning to clean every thing up.
“That is true,” you conceded, “and Robby’s a snitch.”
“I still can’t believe you’re actually going to give him your IUD for his birthday,” Joan shook her head. “Isn’t that a little gross?”
“I’m obviously going to clean it!” You tugged your black scrubs up, wincing a little at the dull ache in your lower stomach. “Plus, it’ll be romantic. And shouldn’t you be more sex-positive? You’re a fucking gynocologist.”
“Romantic,” her voice was deadpan. “And I am plenty sex-positive. Especially unprotected sex. Creates more patients for me. Kinda like a dentist who recommends nothing but sugar.”
You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling as you watched her move back to the counter. “Glad to see you are faithfully committed to your oath.”
“Here,” she handed you a little cup with two white pills, choosing to ignore you. “Tylenol. You don’t get anything stronger since you insisted on doing this mid shift.”
“Thanks,” you swallowed them dry. “For the pills and for doing this for me. I can’t have him figuring this out before. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”
“I know I always wanted a used medical device for my biggest milestone birthdays,” she grumbled to herself as she wrote down her notes on a sheet of paper. “I’ll wait to put this in your chart until after your insemination.”
“Now you’re making it gross,” your face scrunched up. “Most normal people refer to that as ‘trying for a baby’ you know.”
“Yeah sure. Now, get out of my department and go back to your zoo,” she waved her hand dismissively, fighting a smile the whole time.
Step 2: stay strong.
Now with the most important part of your plan complete, you simply had to make it through the next week without Jack catching on. Even with your separate schedules, that was easier said than done.
Monday night at shift change you were desperately trying to hide the cramps wracking your abdomen as you walked the night shift through handovers alongside Robby.
Jack noticed immediately.
“You ok, baby?” He’d pulled you aside the second the handover was completed, his hand resting on your hip as he guided the two of you into a semi secluded corner.
“Yeah I’m ok,” you couldn’t fight the grimace as another wave washed over you. You really shouldn’t have skipped that second dose of acetaminophen during the 4pm rush. “Just cramping.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
Jack frowned, his eyes sweeping over you more intently. His focus flicked between your lower stomach and your face.
“You’re not supposed to start your period for another 3 weeks.”
“It’s still a little odd that you track them so closely,” you tried to brush him off, shrugging.
“I’m a doctor and you’re my wife,” Jack cracked a grin as your eyes narrowed. “You’re my wife who is also a doctor. An amazing one.”
You gave him a kiss for that, quick and chaste and the most PDA you’d dare express in the ED.
“My IUD is due for replacement in a few months,” you couldn’t beat back a rising smile, fueled by both his care and the knowledge of what you were planning. “It’s probably starting to go and make me irregular.”
“Get that checked out, ok?” His hands cupped your face.
“I will, Jack, I promise.”
“Good we-” he swallowed hard, smile faltering ever so slightly. “We don’t want you to be… unprotected.”
The regret in his voice and the twinge of hope in his eyes as he said unprotected only reinforced what you already knew. He really wanted this.
God, you couldn’t wait to tell him. You weren’t sure if you’d ever been more excited to give a gift before.
Warmth flooded through you at the thought of how he’d react. Would there be happy tears? Maybe he’d simply bend you over the nearest surface, eager to get started. He’d probably double and triple check that you were sure. Jack always did that, no matter how many times you reassured him that you wanted him, you needed him. Like he still couldn’t believe you were his just as much as he was yours.
Thankfully, his mind reading seemed to fail for a moment. Likely because of the cramp that gripped you midway through your rumination, hiding your true expression behind a grimace.
“I’m ok, Jack,” with one more kiss, you were untangling yourself from him. “I’m going to go sleep for twelve hours. I love you.”
“Alright,” he followed you as you gathered your things and headed towards the ambulance bay. “Text me when you get home. If you forget again, I’m not making that pasta you like for a month.”
“Empty threats,” you pecked his cheek on your way past him. “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”
“I love you,” the love written so plainly on his face as you walked away from him and out those doors made you almost want to run back and tell him everything.
Maybe that was why you were semi-convinced he was psychic. It was probably less about an alleged supernatural ability and more about your face being easy to read and your lips unable to keep a secret, combined with the fact that you had resigned yourself to your husband being all-knowing.
In your defense, you’d seen Jack level patients and colleagues and even yourself with that look. Head titled, eyes narrowed, eyebrows lifted, that signature confidence combined with a small sigh of disapproval when he knew he wasn’t getting the whole story. It made everyone spill their guts eventually. No one held out very long.
But he hadn’t used that look on you since you’d been his resident years ago. You were all too aware that the bastard had long since learned that all he had to do was give you a soft smile and tell you he loved you and you melted immediately.
And normally, you didn’t have anything to keep from him. Normally, it was mildly irritating if he managed to figure out
But you had to stay strong.
Step 3: final preparations.
Surprisingly, you did actually manage to hold out. All the way until Friday.
Jack had the overnight shift from Thursday to Friday, but you were done and clear. A full body shower and shave was followed by a few episodes of the trashiest reality TV you could find until it was officially your bed time. You texted him a simple “Happy birthday baby” at 12:01 am before grabbing what little sleep you could before he inevitably came home just as the sun was rising.
At just past 7:30 am, your husband was crawling into the sheets, sliding up behind you and wrapping his arm around your waist as the heat of his bare chest warmed you from the inside out.
You were drifting in that blissfully in that half aware state between sleep and wakefulness as he pressed light kisses along the side of your neck available to him. A soft hum left your lips as you arched back into him, body already aching for him.
But you couldn’t give in.
Not yet, at least. As much as it pained you to deny him the sleepy morning sex you’d grown to crave, especially on his birthday, you couldn’t let him fuck you until you’d given him your present. And you couldn’t give him your present until you had made him dinner and slipped on that beautiful white matching set you’d bought.
So you had to stall. Redirect. Get him to actually get a decent amount of rest for once in his life, so you could ride him off into the sunset.
“Happy birthday, handsome,” your hand reached back to run your fingers through his loose curls.
“Very happy birthday to me, indeed,” his grip on your waist tightened as his front pressed even more firmly against your back. You could just barely feel the faint beginnings of hardness through the thin material of his boxers.
“Uh-uh,” you twisted in his grip. Shifting until you were face to face, you pressed a long, slow kiss to his lips. He sighed into your mouth, allowing you to take the lead as his tongue swiped against yours.
“You need to sleep. You’re exhausted.”
He grumbled as you pulled away, his half lidded eyes flipping between the exhaustion of a week of 12 hour nights shifts and pure desire as he looked at you wrapped in his arms.
Jack had once told you that this was when you looked the most beautiful. Sleepy, wearing just his t-shirt and a pair of underwear with your hair a mess, snuggled in the sheets of your shared bed. He had called the domesticity of it addictive, had said he couldn’t get enough of the quiet moments like this, tangled together with the outside world locked away. The two of you just existing in that warm, heady feeling of safety and security, wrapped up in each other for hours.
You’d always thought you understood. You’d agreed that the soft moments surrounded by his love in the home two of you had built were the best, but you were starting to think you never really got it until now. The idea of your family, of it growing beyond just the small, two person unit the two of you had become over these years, was electrifying.
God, you wanted that. You’d already given him your heart. You wanted to give him everything.
“I’m not too tired to make you feel good,” his hand slid from your hip down to dip beneath the hem of your underwear.
It took every ounce of self control to grab his wrist, stopping him.
“No,” you gave him one more soft kiss before you were pushing him back to lie flat. Throwing one of your legs over his, you curled into his side. He let out a sigh of disappointment as your head rested on his chest, but he was still curling his freckled arms around you to hold you close. “We are going to sleep now. And then, tonight, I am going to make you dinner. Then you get to open your present, and then you can fuck me. However you want, as many times as you want.”
“You’re so cruel,” you couldn’t see his face but you could hear the smile in his voice as he pressed a kiss to your hair. Already, you could tell he was starting to drift off. “But fine. As long as I get to have you for dessert.”
His voice, low and gravelly, vibrating through his chest had your panties growing increasingly uncomfortable. His sturdy thigh pressed between your legs certainly wasn’t helping, but you could do this. You were a grown woman, a doctor of emergency medicine. You had the willpower to make it 10 more hours without jumping your husband.
When you woke around 1pm, Jack was still dead to the world. His lips were parted, hair mussed, and his breaths deep and even. Despite the gray making his curls much more salt than pepper, he looked younger like this.
You gave yourself a moment to take him in before slipping out of the bed and his grasp.
It was time to make the last few preparations.
Your movements were as quiet as you could make them as you got dressed. With one last glance at his sleeping form, you slipped out the front door.
Grocery shopping went smoothly, the bakery passed off the small bourbon chocolate cake you’d ordered with little fuss, and the jeweler down the road didn’t even charge you for the little black velvet box. They had a million of them, she’d said, no big deal.
You were back home by 3:30pm. Jack was up and awake by then, making himself a cup of coffee when you strolled in, arms laden with grocery bags. For just a second, you let your eyes trail over him. He was facing away, giving you a beautiful view of the freckles dusting his muscled back. The sweatpants riding low on his hips, the right leg tied in a knot to stop the hem from dragging, hid the strength and shape of his ass and legs from you, but your imagination filled in the gaps.
“Done objectifying me yet?” Jack just barely looked over his shoulder as he continued to fiddle with the machine before him.
“Never,” you set the bags down, giving his ass a slap as you moved past.
He laughed, reaching for his crutches as he moved to follow you back out to the driveway.
“Let me help you with the bags.”
“Not a chance,” you blocked the doorway. “Go sit down and enjoy your day off.”
He looked like he was going to argue for a moment, but then he acquiesced. With one, chaste kiss to your lips, he moved back to the counter.
Jack was stubborn, though, so he started unloading the grocery bags, placing ingredients in their rightful places.
You watched him move through the space for just a moment before you returned to your car to grab the last few bags and the box with the cake. The jewelry box was tucked into the back pocket of your denim shorts, hidden by your oversized shirt as you deposited everything else onto the counter, next to the first batch of empty bags. Jack had disappeared from the kitchen, but he walked out of the bedroom just as you began to organize the ingredients you needed, his leg fastened on.
“What are you gonna make me?” Jack had settled back against the counter after you swatted his hands away from the cake box, trying to keep his fingers out of the frosting while he tried to steal a taste. He was lazily sipping his coffee, eyes watching as you fluttered about, retrieving some of the items that you needed.
“Steak,” you held up the meat wrapped in butcher paper as you pulled it from the bag. “Cabbage,” his nose wrinkled and your eyes rolled. For a brief moment, you really considered throwing the vegetable at him. “Relax, you big baby. Cabbage au gratin. Lots of cheese and that cream sauce you like.”
“Hmm, ok,” he was smirking over the rim of his mug. “What else?”
“What else? What, that’s not enough for you?”
He set the coffee down, closing the small distance between the two of you so his hands could rest on your hips, chest pressing into your back. You panicked for a moment as his lips met your clothed shoulder, hoping and praying that he didn’t notice the box in your pocket. It was still empty, but you didn’t want to give him any hints about your plan.
“I’m gonna need a lot of energy tonight, baby,” his hands slid underneath your shirt to rest against your bare stomach as he nosed at your hair, his breath brushing over your ear. “I’m pretty sure I was promised however I want, as many times as I want.”
You were so close to breaking. Your resolve was hanging on by a thread.
“And,” his hand slid farther up, cupping your breast through your bra. You could barely restrain a whine. “My dear wife decided to swap shifts. We haven’t had any… quality time in a week. I’ve got a lot of plans for you tonight, baby.”
“Jack,” your voice was weak.
“Not to mention,” his fingers squeezed your nipple through the mesh of your bra. “I wouldn’t be a very good husband if I didn’t help you get your sleep cycle back on track. Gotta get you used to working all night, baby.”
“You’ve gotta wait, Jackie,” you were arching back into him, offering no resistance as his broad hand slid to lay over the span of your stomach.
Fuck.
The feeling of that steady, callous hand laying against the smooth skin of your lower abdomen jolted you back to reality.
You needed to wait. It wouldn’t be fair or right to fuck him before you had a conversation, plus you’d put so much thought into planning the perfect night. You couldn’t let your incubus of a husband seduce you into ruining it now.
“Jack,” your voice was stronger now. “Patience.”
He huffed a laugh against the shell of your ear, his hands tightening against you just once before letting you go and stepping back. You could very clearly see the hard length of him straining through the fabric of his pants as you turned to face him, back braced against the counter. His hands came up to land beside your hips on the stone as he caged you in.
“I don’t know what you have planned, but I might die if I don’t get my hands on you soon,” his lips laid a kiss on your cheek before he was stepping back. “I’m gonna go shower before you torture me anymore.”
Step 4: the proposition.
Jack behaved himself all throughout dinner, his hand settling at a tasteful spot on your bare thigh, exposed by the dress you’d pulled on over the lacy white set he hadn’t seen yet. Entirely appropriate compliments coming from him as you laid the cabbage, the steak, and the salad and rolls he hadn’t let you tell him about earlier before the two of you on the table.
But dinner was done, leftovers packed away, the rest of the cake returned to its box while two half-eaten slices laid before the two of you.
While he was in the shower, you’d managed to retrieve your IUD (very thoroughly sanitized, thank you very much) and place it in the jewelry box. It fit perfectly. You’d tied the box closed with a short length of red ribbon you’d acquired from the Christmas supplies stored in the spare room.
That box had been sitting on the counter while you ate dinner and dessert, but now it sat between the two of you on the table. For the first time all week, your confidence in your plan was starting to falter.
Jack was a great man and an amazing husband. That was undeniable. He was great at so many different things. The one area he fell behind in, though, was communication.
He wasn’t necessarily bad at it, but he definitely wasn’t the best. It wasn’t that he couldn’t or didn’t communicate with you. No, it was more that he held certain things back. He didn’t let himself verbalize things when he thought he didn’t deserve them, or when he thought he was asking for too much.
He hadn’t asked you for a baby. Sure, the two of you had talked about it before getting married, as all couples should, but the conversation hadn’t resurfaced since then. That conversation had been the first time he had truly been completely open and laid bare before you. He had told you he wanted kids, more than anything, but he worried about being too old, too broken, too unavailable.
You’d assured him he was none of those things, that you wanted to start a family with him. You could see on his face that he only half believed you.
It hadn’t been a possibility right when you got married, with you just finishing your residency and settling into being an attending, along with the both of you wanting time to really settle into your relationship before broaching that topic again.
But it hadn’t been brought up again.
Suddenly, the box sitting between you felt like a bomb. What if you had overstepped? Sure, you had thought the look on his face when he saw you with a baby was longing, but what if it wasn’t? What if you were about to blow up your marriage and ruin his 50th birthday?
“Hey,” Jack’s hand came to cover yours, jerking you out of your spiral. “You ok?”
“Yeah,” your throat felt full as you looked up at him. “Just… just nervous to see if you like your present.”
He smiled at that. “I’m sure I’ll love it, baby.”
“I really hope you do.”
You could barely breathe as you watched his fingers undo the red bow keeping the box sealed. The few seconds it took for him to unwind the fabric felt like years, the soft sound of the ribbon sliding against the velvet felt like the loudest noise in the world.
The lid blocked your view of the interior of the box, but you knew exactly what it looked like. That thin plastic ‘T’ sticking up out of the slot where a ring would normally go. Stark white against the deep red interior of the little black box.
Jack’s brow scrunched up for a second as he gazed down at the object in his hands.
“Is this your-”
“Yes,” your voice was quiet when you cut him off, your eyes searching his face. He looked confused, eyes fixed on the IUD, before the expression melted into shock as he looked up at you.
“You-” he floundered over his words, gaze rapidly flicking back and forth between you and the box. “This- you took it- what-”
For a moment, you were concerned he was having a stroke. But then he took a deep breath, set the box down, and scrubbed his hands over his face. Your nerves crept back in, unwelcome and self deprecating as the worst case scenarios ran through your mind.
“I need you to tell me exactly what this means, baby,” his hand was grabbing yours again, squeezing tight. He still looked a little shocked, but you could see his eyes lighting up with what you desperately hoped was happiness.
“I-” your throat locked down, the words stuck as your eyes locked on his.
“Words, baby,” he slipped out of his seat, settling on his knees before you.
“Jack, your leg-”
“I don’t care, I’m fine,” his hands settled on your thighs, just above your knees. His fingers dug in as he looked up at you.
Hope. That’s what you were seeing written plain as day across his features. Hope and love and yearning.
“Baby, please,” he sounded desperate. “I need to know exactly what you meant when you gave me your IUD.”
“I -” your breath faltered for just a second as his hands squeezed tighter as the first syllable left your lips. “I want to have a baby, Jack. I want your baby.”
“Fuck,” his voice was raw and gutteral, like the curse ripped out of him involuntarily. “I want it. So badly, you have no idea.”
You couldn’t help your laugh. The sound was wet, emotion curling in your chest as the worry and anxiety fled. “Trust me, I know exactly how much you want it.”
The confusion crept back onto his face.
“You’re not subtle, Jack.”
“I’m so subtle. I’m an unreadable pillar of strength,” he was smiling, eyes still full of love and adoration.
“You were anything other than subtle with this.”
“Maybe because I want to come home to you and our child everyday,” his words silenced your laughter, tears threatening to spill as he kept speaking. “I want to watch them grow up, teach them how to ride a bike, be obnoxiously loud and embarrassing at sports games.”
Jack was getting to his feet now, pulling you up with him until his forehead was pressed to yours.
“I want to teach them how to drive, cry at their high school graduation, move them into college dorms,” his own voice was thick with emotion as tears dripped silently down your cheeks. His hands came up to cradle your cheeks, swiping the stray droplets away with his thumbs. Your hands gripped his forearms as you listened. “I want it all with you. I want to be horribly, disgustingly domestic and in love, show our kid what love looks like. I want them to be safe and happy and healthy and so, so loved.”
“Jack,” your voice was shaky as you clung to him.
“I want it. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I want it with you. I want it all with you.”
His lips connected with yours. The kiss was tender and slow, every emotion leaking out as your lips and tongues moved against each other in your dining room. He tasted like the chocolate cake and something so distinctly Jack. It was addictive.
When the two of you parted to gasp for breath, his hands settled on your waist, yours coming up to tangle one in his hair, the other flat against his sturdy chest.
“You know,” you leaned in, tracing feather light kisses over the curve of his throat. “I promised you you could have whatever you want after dinner.”
His head dropped back and he let out a groan. His hands tightened on your waist.
“But do you know what I want?”
“What do you want, baby?” His voice was breathy. One of his hands drifted down to grab a handful of your ass, his leg slipping between yours to apply pressure where you needed him the most.
Your teeth caught the lobe of his ear between your teeth.
“I want you to take me to our bedroom,” your hand in his hair yanked ever so slightly. “I want you to take one of those little pills you keep for emergencies,” your fingers trailed down his chest slowly as his breathing picked up in pace. “And I want you to fuck me until you physically cannot any more.”
Step 5: success.
So maybe you weren’t as good at reading your husband as you thought.
You were so sure as soon as he got you into the bedroom and got an eyeful of the see through lace covering your body, he’d be inside of you immediately, especially with the promise of your uterus open for business.
But he held back, eyes tracing your form, sprawled out on the bed and still covered, barely, by your lingerie. He was moving through the room like he had all the time in the world.
You watched with bated breath as he slowly undid his belt and the button of his pants, leaving both still on. The buttons on his shirt were next, the fabric hanging open and untucked as he approached his nightstand. All you could see of his torso was a thin strip, could just barely spot the light dusting of still auburn hair disappearing in the waist band of his slacks.
His hand dug into the drawer for a second before he was producing the little orange bottle. He held it delicately between his fingers, eyes meeting yours.
“You’re sure this is what you want?” Everything in Jack’s eyes seemed to be begging you to agree, to not dangle this in front of him and then so cruelly rip it away.
“I want this,” you sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed to rest your hands on his hips, his legs between yours as he towered over you. “I want you to put a baby in me, Jack.”
He groaned, his hands fumbling to get the cap off the bottle and one pill in his mouth.
He didn’t usually need those little blue pills, but between the anti depressants he regularly took and the stress of both your jobs, occasionally they came in handy. Today, however, the outline of his erection, right in front of your face, told you he definitely didn’t need it right now. But both of you knew that one round was not going to be even close to enough.
The temptation of that bulge in his pants was too much as you watched his throat bob while he swallowed the pill dry. Your hands drifted from his hips to the undone button of his slacks. Slowly, your fingers pulled the zipper down.
His hand caught yours before you could start sliding the fabric down his legs.
“Not now,” his fingers pressed into your pulse, your heartrate hammering as you looked up at him. “Take off your clothes and lie down.”
For a moment, you wanted to argue, wanted to insist that this was his birthday, you should be taking care of him. But the heat in his eyes and the rapid rise and fall of his chest as his eyes traced over your body had another idea popping into your head, wondering exactly how far you could push him tonight.
Your hands were a little shaky as you unclasped your bra, if the white scrap of barely there lace could even be called that. It fell from your body as you stood from the bed, crowding into Jack.
He took half a step back to give you some space as he watched. Your hands tossed your hair back over your shoulders, taking the opportunity to trail your fingers down your collarbones, loosely cupping and caressing your own breasts. Your lips parted on a gasp as your fingers tweaked your nipples. With half lidded eyes, you arched into him, almost touching as you continued to play with your breasts.
When you decided he’d had enough, you let your hands move on, dragging down your abdomen only to stop just above the waistband of your panties. You laid your hands over the smooth, bumpless skin.
“Can’t wait for your baby to be right here,” you were laying it on thick. Eyelashes fluttering, teeth digging into your lower lip, breaths coming a little too deep to lift your breasts even more with every inhale.
Jack was getting impatient, you could tell. That fire burning in his eyes, his fingers flexing, all while you took your sweet time shimmying out of the underwear.
By the time it hit the floor, he looked ready to pounce, but he was still keeping himself in check. You figured he probably wanted to take things nice and slow, make them tender. At least at first. He usually was attentive and giving, treating you gently especially when emotions were running high. Not like you would break if he didn’t, more like you deserved to be loved softly.
But there was time for soft later. Right now, the tension and knowledge of what he was about to do to you felt explosive. You wanted him to take you hard. To take out the sexual frustration of a week or so of abstinence on your body. To pin you down and have his way with you. Afterwards there’d be time for sweet and tender. And there definitely would be more than just one round tonight given the pill he’d just taken.
You were right about how close he was to snapping. The final straw seemed to be when you reached down, picking your underwear up from the floor. He watched the movement, a warning look on his face, but you didn’t stop. Instead, you took his hand, setting the soaking wet miniscule lace in his palm.
“Happy birthday,” with that, you turned around, crawling onto the bed on all fours, swaying your hips as you went.
You didn’t get very far before his hands were grabbing you by the waist, dragging you back to the edge. Your lower legs hung off the bed as he pressed his hips against your ass. He was burning hot, even through his clothes. You could feel the heat and weight of him as you ground back, smearing the wetness leaking from you onto his pants.
“I wanted to be nice,” behind you, you heard rustling as his shirt finally dropped off his shoulders. The clinking of his belt followed, thudding as it hit the floor next. “I wanted to make love to my sweet little wife, but I don’t think that’s what you want, huh?”
“I want you to fuck me, Jack,” you heard him drag his pants and boxers down, the thick length of his cock springing free to brush agaisnt you. Your hips pushed back, almost involuntarily, craving him inside of you. “Make love to me later, knock me up now.”
“Fuck,” his fingers found your clit, stroking through your folds and finding you oh so ready for him. He was making small, tight circles around the bud, sending small shockwaves of pleasure through you.
“Stop wasting time,” your words were breathy, slowly losing their bite. “At this rate it’ll be another 30 years before I get pregnant.”
“Shut up,” you could feel him lining himself up. “Let me make you feel good.”
“I’ll feel good if you- oh fuck!”
Jack interrupted your whining by slamming in all the way. Usually, he was slow, guiding himself inside, taking the time to let you adjust. Not now, though, now he barely gave you a second to get used to the feeling before he was pulling out and pushing back in.
“Is this what you wanted?” His voice was strained, his hips working vigorously as he used his grip on your waist to drag you back onto him every time he thrust in.
The sound was obscene. Wet slapping accompanied by your whines and gasps as he reached deep inside of you, bumping all the way up against your cervix with each push in. His own panting was nearly drowned out, but the groan that escaped him when you clamped down tight as he shifted angles was loud.
“Right there, huh?” Jack tilted his hips, angling towards that spot while one of his hands pushed down on your upper back. Your arms gave way, head meeting the sheets as he continued to pound away.
“Fuck, Jack, right there!” Your cries were high pitched and needy as he kept up the pace. His pounding was rhythmic, barely faltering even when his fingers found your clit again, and you tightened around him even more. The circles he was drawing were fast, matching the speed and timing of his thrusts.
Jack had long since learned to play your body like a fiddle and he was pulling no punches tonight. His hand not on your clit shifted, sliding down to press the heel of his palm right above your pubic bone. The added pressure had you crying out, walls pulsing as an orgasm washed over you unexpectedly.
It came in waves, your back arching and pushing your hips into his even more fervently as the pleasure grew and radiated out from between your legs. It was sudden, overwhelming, and seemingly never ending as he kept fucking you through it, his pace unchanging, his hands never moving from where they lay.
“Fuck, baby,” he was panting, leaning halfway over you as you twitched. “God, fuck, I’m close.”
“C’mon, do it Jack,” you knew your voice was whiny and breathy, but you couldn’t care less as you begged him. “Please, do it. Cum inside me. I need it!”
This was far from the first time he’d fucked you raw. The two of you hadn’t used a condom since the early days of your relationship. After one broke and forced an incredibly awkward pharmacy run for Plan B, you’d gotten your IUD. Once it was effective, you had never had a barrier between you. Jack was well accustomed to coming inside of you.
But this was different. That protection was gone, sitting on the dining room table where he’d left it after dinner. And now you were begging him to cum inside you, not just because it felt good for both of you, but because you wanted to have his child. You wanted him leaking out of you, filling you up until you had no room left inside. You wanted the consequences of this action, the visible and physical manifestation of him left inside of you.
His hand on your stomach shot out, clutching the duvet beside your head as he leaned even farther over you. Jack’s rhythm grew erratic, faster than before as he folded over you. His fingers never stopped circling but they did hitch, that steady pressure faltering as he got closer.
“Fuck, oh fuck, you feel so good,” he was so close you could feel it. Feel him pulsing and twitching inside of you while his chest, damp with sweat pressed against your back.
“Please,” the word was tangled with a moan as it left your lips. The orgasm that had seemed never ending was rising again, impossibly fast. “Please, Jack, want your baby, please.”
“Oh shit, fuck, fuck! Oh, I’m cumming, oh fuck!”
You felt the heat inside you, that warmth radiating out as he buried himself deep, hips rutting in grinding little thrusts as he came. It was overwhelming. Your own orgasm, much weaker than the previous one, jerked through your body as you felt him fill you.
The two of you stayed quiet, no words exchanged while you rode out the pleasure coursing through both your veins. Jack stayed buried as deep as he could inside of you, his hand finally leaving your clit when you stopped pulsing around him, only for it to find the front of your thigh, keeping you tightly pressed against him.
“I love you,” he whispered against your shoulder blade while he caught his breath.
“I love you, too,” you couldn’t really reach back to touch him in this position. At least, not without the growing ache in your lower back worsening. “I’m getting sore, Jack.”
“If I tell you to lay down and get comfortable, will you actually listen this time?” The smirk on his face as you peaked over your shoulder made you want to simultaneously punch him and kiss him. He slowly pushed himself up, lifting his weight off your body and pulling out.
“Yes, fine, I’ll listen,” you winced a little as his dick left your body, gasping a little when you realized he was still half hard.
“Shit, stop for a sec,” his hand palmed your ass cheek, stopping you from crawling forward to get comfortable. For a moment, you were confused. But then you felt it. His cum was dripping from you, spilling now that he’d finally pulled out. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”
The low groan in his voice had you clenching around nothing, pushing even more out of you.
“Gotta keep it all in there, baby,” his fingers came up, pushing it back inside of you. They curled downwards, brushing against the sensitive skin just behind your clit, your legs shaking as he repeated the motion. “Fuck you’re so wet. So full of me.”
“Jack, please,” you weren’t entirely sure what you were asking for, all you knew was that you needed him. Over your own panting breaths you could just make out the wet sound of his own hand dragging over his length.
“Ok, ok,” his fingers pulled out of you. “Get comfortable, I need you again.”
Your legs were weak and it took you a second to focus again as you made your way to the center of the bed, falling onto your back, your head resting among the pillows. Your eyes found him like a magnet, snapping into focus as he finally pulled his pants all the way down.
He was fully hard again, and you watched with blatant hunger as he sat on the edge of the bed, hastily unfastening his prosthetic before he was climbing over to you.
“Left your hips for me,” you followed his instruction, allowing him to slide a pillow below your ass to keep you propped up for him. “Good girl.”
He settled, kneeling, between your legs, length still glistening from just having been inside you. Jack dragged the head of his cock over your folds, taking in the way your body twisted and undulated, silently begging for him to be back inside you.
“Are you ready?”
How kind and totally unnecessary for him to check in on you. You were mere seconds away from flipping him over and riding him.
“Yes, please Jack,” your hands reached down for him, trying to guide him in yourself.
“Ah-ah,” he tangled your fingers in his, leaning over you to trap your hands above your head with one of his. “I fucked you how you wanted, now we do it how I want it.”
“Just get inside me, please! I want you so bad,” you had a sneaking suspicion he might have wanted to tease you for even longer, but your husband had never been able to resist you for very long. You could see how much he wanted it, and your begging seemed to have won out over his desire to tease.
“God, you’re still so tight,” Jack buried his face in the crook of your neck as he slid inside. “How the fuck are you always so tight?”
“Made for you!” Your voice came out high and squeaky as he began to move.
“Fuck yes you were,” his lips landed on the sensitive skin of your throat, sucking and kissing and no doubt leaving countless marks you’d be struggling to cover when you went back to work.
The pace he set this time was much slower than before, but somehow filthier. The slow, insistent grind of him withdrawing and pushing back in had your clit grinding against the neatly trimmed hair at the base of his cock. The sounds this time were quieter but no less salacious. The unmistakable sound of how wet you were filled the room every time he pushed in as deep as he could get, mixed with the whimpers and gasps of his name you let out as you clung to him. He was rather quiet the first time until he got close, but he must have been more sensitive now as his groans and curses vibrated against your neck.
Those noises only built in volume as the two of you fell into a cycle, pushing each other even higher.
Every time you clenched tightly around him as he hit just the right spot, his teeth would scrape the sensitive skin on your neck or shoulder. In return, your fingernails would dig in tighter against the muscles in his back and his hips would press as deep he could, brushing against the spot that made you clench tighter.
“You feel so good around me, baby,” his movements were beginning to stutter as the two of you got closer again. His hand tangled in your hair as he pulled his head away from your neck, keeping your eyes locked on his.
Jack looked wild. His pupils were blown wide, eyes full of tenderness even as his skin was flushed, his mouth open as he let loose sounds of pleasure.
“You’re all mine.”
You tried to nod against his grip in your hair, eyes slipping shut as he ground even harder into you. Everything was hazy. The pleasurable feeling of every movement sent zaps tingling up your spine.
“No, no keep your eyes open,” you gasped as he broke his semi-steady rhythm to thrust hard into you. Your eyes opened, locking onto his. “Good girl, that’s good.”
He was getting louder now, getting closer and consequently pushing you there as well.
“Say it, baby,” you were tightening around his length uncontrollably now, impossibly close. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“I-I’m fuck!” You could barely get the first word out as his hand once again found its way between your bodies, rubbing against you as you squirmed. The pleasure was almost too much. “I’m your- fuck, fuck! I’m yours, Jack!”
“All mine,” his lips landed on yours while his fingers sped up. The kiss was sloppy, mostly tongues and teeth while you panted into each other's mouths. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum again, ohhh fuck.”
His hips snapped once, twice and then stilled as deep as he could get. Jack never stopped rubbing your clit, though, pushing you through to cum around him for the 3rd time so far as came inside you again.
You could barely feel the extra fluid. The space between your legs was already messy and your orgasm pushed every last thought out of your head as your body shook. Your legs tightened around his hips as your body arched up into him. One of his arms slid beneath your lower back, his hips burying his cock even deeper inside.
As your body trembled and the pleasure slowly faded, you realised he was speaking to you, the bussing in your ears finally fading enough for you to hear him.
“-love you so much, baby,” his head had dropped back down to the crook of your neck, but his lips hadn’t resumed their attack. The words were quiet. You knew he was talking to you, but the words almost seemed too personal. Like Jack’s filter had been fucked out of him, and the words spilling against your skin were his inner monologue. “Can’t believe you want to make me a dad. I swear, I’ll do my best. I’ll be so good. I can’t wait to hold her and love her-”
“Her?” You finally felt coherent enough to interrupt.
Jack jumped like he had forgotten you were there, even with his length still buried inside of you.
He hesitated for a moment, before lifting his head to look you in the eye. “I want a daughter,” his hand came to rest over your lower stomach. “One of the residents told me I seem like a girl-dad a year or so ago and I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. And now, getting you pregnant… I hope it’s a girl.”
You were torn between laughing and crying. You remembered the off hand comment from one of the bolder first year students, along with the look of utter confusion on Jack’s face. He hadn’t understood the comment, simply telling them he didn’t have kids and to get back to work.
But the tenderness in his voice, the absolute love in his eyes as he looked down at you had a lump forming in your throat.
“You know it’s not that quick,” your hand came up to cradle his jaw covered in that silver stubble you loved so much. “It might take a while for me to get pregnant. And there's no way to guarantee it’ll be a girl.”
His head turned slightly to press a kiss to your palm. “I don’t care how long it takes. I’m happy to keep trying.”
Your cheeks flushed at the insinuation, choosing to redirect. “And if it’s a boy?”
Jack lowered himself back over you, his nose brushing yours. “Then I’ll have a son. The only thing that matters is that the both of you are safe, happy, and healthy.”
“I love you,” the words were tight, barely getting out of your throat around the steadily growing lump of overwhelming emotion.
Pairing: Jack Abbot x Michael Robinavitch x f!Reader
Description: Jack Abbot and Michael Robinavitch are your soulmates, but you're not going to let them find that out. Eight months and one hit and run later, they might have some opinions about that.
Tags/Warnings: A/B/O, Soulmates, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury (Reader gets in a car crash but not in this chapter wahoo), Significant Age Difference (40s/50s with 20s), Reader is a psych nurse who works in the pitt, Jack and Robby are in an established relationship
Wordcount: 3.7k
Author's Note: I wrote this during my night shifts, so forgive me if it's chaos. Also this is my first fic I've ever posted, so feedback is welcome but be nice pls. Love ya's.
00:27 a.m. and the witching hour began.
The fluorescent lights washed everything a sickly green, making skin look sallow and eyes sunken. The air smelled of antiseptic, blood, and too many bodies packed into too small a space.
The ER always felt different at night. Time didn't seem to move right; it stretched, stalled, then snapped forward without warning. One minute it was quiet, the next it was a flood-traumas, drunks, chest pains-ebbing and flowing with a strange, almost lunar rhythm Jack had long since stopped trying to understand, but had come to know.
But the witching hour was when the strange cases showed up, brought in by ambulance or police or just stumbling in off the streets. The dangerous, the deluded, or the medical mysteries no one could quite explain- the ones that made even seasoned ER vets like Jack paused and raise an eyebrow.
Jack had stopped trying to understand it. Night just stripped people down to the basics: fear, pain, anger, all sitting too close to the surface.
He liked it.
Thrived on it, even. The chaos, the constant problems to solve. The army had ruined any chance of a normal sleep schedule anyway, and the ER after dark suited him - everything narrowed down to this place, this moment, this job.
Tonight had been no exception. The evening had started hard and fast with a pileup on the freeway dumping half a dozen patients on them at once. Jack had spent the first few hours of his shift hip-deep in blood and broken bones, shouting orders and barking out instructions- the kind of controlled chaos that made him feel sharp. Alive.
Then, the drugs. ODs- some intentional, most not. A new drug on the streets had spiked, something dangerous that didn't show up in the tox screens right away, sending seizures through half the people who touched it.
They were hard to control and exhausting to manage.
Now, finally, a lull.
Jack leaned against the nurses’ station, nursing a cup of stale vending machine coffee. The caffeine did little to chase away the exhaustion that had settled into his bones, but it was better than nothing.
Movement down the hall caught his eye. He looked up, already knowing who it was before he properly saw you - something in the set of your shoulders, the way you moved, purposeful and steady even at this hour.
You’d been in the department a few months now - one of the new psych nurses they’d put on the floor to help manage the overflow of psych patients they'd never really known how to manage. Long enough that people trusted you. Long enough that Jack did, too.
He watched you approach, taking in the small details without really thinking about it - the way you scanned the room as you walked, clocking everything, the slight tension in your jaw that usually meant a patient was pushing limits somewhere.
You were good. Not just on paper, but in the way that actually mattered here. You were smart and capable, with a dry wit and a no-nonsense attitude that he respected. You handled the psych patients with a firm but compassionate hand, de-escalating tense situations when most would just reach for sedation and hope for the best.
Jack found himself paying attention when you were around. Not in a way he could easily explain. Just… awareness. Like he trusted that if something kicked off, you’d already be halfway to handling it.
Which you usually were.
Still, some part of him - more primitive, more instinct than thought - kept a closer eye on you than anyone else on the floor. It was a reflex he knew better than to take at face value. You didn’t need hovering. You were more than capable of handling yourself.
Didn’t stop the instinct, though. Just meant he ignored it. Mostly.
"Hey," he called out as you drew near, pushing off from the desk and straightening up. "How's our guy in South 14?"
The patient had been brought in by the police: found wandering down a street naked, swinging a baseball bat wildly and shouting about aliens. His skin had a faint green tinge that no one had quite explained yet.
You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Can you write up 5 of haloperidol and 2 of loraz? He's really agitated- no way I can get an assessment on him when he's like this." You made a face, considering, before adding, "Might be a day shift job. Give him a chance to sleep off whatever he's taken."
“Sure,” Jack nodded, already reaching for the chart. He scribbled out the orders and handed it back with a wry smile. “Anything else I can do for you, doc?”
You rolled your eyes at the title, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you. “Just keep the crazies coming, Dr. Abbot. It’s what I’m here for.”
Jack always noticed the British lilt in your voice - it cut through the noise of the department, standing out against the heavier American accents around you.
You paused, studying him for a moment with those intelligent eyes. “How about you? You look like you could use some rest.”
Jack snorted. “I’m fine. Just another day in paradise.” He took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “Besides, the night’s still young. Who knows what kind of entertainment we’ll get before sunrise.”
“Has anyone told you adrenaline and cortisol are bad for you?” you asked dryly.
“Oh, daily,” he replied without missing a beat, pushing off the desk. "Come on. Let's go see our green friend. See if he's got any intergalactic secrets to share."
You fell into step beside him, shoulder brushing his in the narrow corridor. Jack felt it immediately- the brief brush of your shoulder against his in the narrow corridor, the spark of heat that ran sharper than it should have.
Jack exhaled sharply as they walked, jaw tightening. He’d never had issues working alongside omegas before. Never felt anything like this pull of instinct intruding on something as simple as a corridor walk.
He’d never had issues working alongside omegas before. Years in the army, then the ER, had taught him how to ignore anything that got in the way of the job. Instinct, scent, all of it - background noise.
But with you, it wasn’t quite so simple. Your scent was there, just at the edge of awareness - subtle, persistent, impossible to fully tune out. Even with blockers, it cut through in fragments: something warm, faintly spiced and sweet- like those chaii teas Robby sometimes had after dinner. Comforting. Too damn comforting for his own good.
But what could he do other than push it all down, bottle it up in some tucked away corner of his mind? Nothing. So he ignored it. Like usual.
You could hear South 14 before you could see him- voice raised in a feverish rant about government experiments and alien abductions. Jack shot you a sideways look, one brow raised. You just shrugged, already reaching for the handle.
"Welcome to my world, Dr Abbot." you said with a little grin, then slid through the door and into the room.
Inside, the scene was just as chaotic as expected. The patient was pacing back and forth, the thin hospital gown barely clinging to his shoulders, his hair tangled and wild. His eyes flicked nervously between you and the door like he was trying to work out an escape plan.
"Hey, Danny." you soothed, your voice calm and even as you approached the bedside. "I'm me again. You have any of that food I got you?" you nodded to the sandwich and apple he'd left untouched.
"The apples have cameras in!" he screamed, backing away from you. "They'll report back what I say. They know! They know I know!"
You didn't flinch at his outburst, just held up your hands in a placating gesture. "I know it's scary, Danny," you said softly. "But you're safe here. We're not going to let anyone hurt you."
Jack stood back, watching as you moved to stand just out of the patient's reach, your posture non-threatening, tone carefully neutral. You weren't trying to force him into a corner or corner him with questions, just offering a steady presence in the middle of his panic.
"Come on," you coaxed. "Just sit with me. We can talk about it. You want to tell me what's going on with the aliens?"
Danny hesitated, eyes darting to you then to Jack like he wasn't sure he could trust either of you. But after a moment, he nodded stiffly and slunk back toward the bed, sinking down onto it and hugging his knees to his chest. Jack watched as you pulled up a chair, keeping a safe but friendly distance. You sat forward, elbows resting on your knees, expression open and relaxed- not fake, just genuinely interested.
"You want to tell me more about what happened?" you asked gently.
Danny swallowed hard, eyes flicking toward the door like he was waiting for someone to burst in. "They...they put something in my head," he whispered. His hand trembled as he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands like he was trying to dig something out from beneath his scalp. "I can feel it. It's in there. They're listening. Always listening."
You nodded slowly, not dismissing it, just acknowledging. "That must be terrifying," you said, your voice soft. "It sounds like you're going through something really hard right now."
Danny's breath caught, and he glanced up at you with wide, desperate eyes. "You believe me?"
"I believe you're really scared," you replied carefully. "And I want to help you feel safer. Will you let me try?"
There was a long pause before Danny finally gave a small, tentative nod.
"Good," you smiled, reaching into your pocket for the med cup. "I brought you something that might help take the edge off. It won't hurt-just help calm things down a bit so you can get some rest."
Jack watched as Danny hesitated, eyeing the meds like they were poison. But then, slowly, he took the cup from your hand and swallowed the pills dry, his whole body still tense.
You stood up then, moving slowly, like you didn't want to startle him. "I'll stay right here with you until they start working, okay? We can talk more if you want."
Danny gave a tiny nod, seeming to settle just a little now that someone wasn't dismissing him or running out of the room. Jack moved back toward the door, giving you both space. He wasn't needed here now. You had everything under control.
You glanced round at him, eyebrow raised slightly as if to ask if he was leaving. Jack just nodded, keeping his expression even. "Call if you need me." he mouthed, gesturing at the panic alarm you always wore on your belt. You gave him a small smile in return and turned back to Danny, who had started talking again in low, rapid bursts about the voices in his head.
Jack slipped out into the hallway, pulling the door shut softly behind him. His chest felt tight, something sitting uncomfortably under his ribs as he walked away. But there was no time to dwell on it. His pager blared- code stroke, 4 minutes - and he was off again.
The rest of the night passed in a blur of activity, the steady stream of patients keeping Jack and the rest of the ER staff on their toes. There were more OD's and alcohol related incidents, a few car accident victims, and a rather bizarre case of a man who'd tried to open a coconut with his forehead and ended up needing stitches. Jack handled each one with his usual blend of dark humour and efficiency, cracking jokes that fell flat but kept him sane.
Somewhere around 5:30, during a brief moment of peace between traumas, Jack found himself back at the nurses station, leaning against the desk to try to relieve the ache in his stump. You were sitting at the desk, typing away at your computer with a focused little furrow in your brow. You had ear plugs in, a sign you were trying to get something done without distractions. You looked tired, he noted absently, watching as you pushed a loose strand of hair back into the knot at the nape of your neck.
Jack debated whether to interrupt you but decided against it. He didn't need anything from you. Just… wanted to see what you were up to. Not worth pulling your focus away from something that was clearly keeping your mind occupied.
Instead, he pushed himself upright and headed for the break room, gait uneven but steady. Another cup might help keep him moving. The end of the shift was close now-sunrise not far off, handover coming. Robby would be in soon. That thought settled somewhere quieter in his chest.
He poured himself a coffee from the pot then, without thinking, poured one for you too. Milk, one sugar- the way you took it. You looked like you needed it.
When he came back out, you were still at the desk, still working. He slid the cup across to you without a word. You glanced up, surprised, then smiled - tired, but genuine. “Thank you. I was just about to make one.”
“No trouble,” he said, taking a sip of his own. “What’re you working on?”
“Arguing with psych upstairs about taking Danny,” you muttered. “They won’t accept him until neuro reviews him even though there's absolutely no indication for it. It's bullshit."
“You want me to go yell at someone?” he offered, only half joking.
You huffed a quiet laugh. “Tempting. But I’ve got it.”
He shrugged, leaning back against the counter, scanning the department out of habit. Calm, for now. Nothing pressing. You’d already picked up the phone.
"Hey- yep, it's me again. Listen, I spoke to neuro and they said they're not coming down. No signs, no symptoms- nothing to review. So can we please just admit him and have your team assess in the morning?" Your voice was firm but not loud.
Jack watched as you ran your free hand over your face, obviously tired of the conversation. The person on the other end was clearly wasting your time.
"Yes, I just sent over the risk assessment. The one saying the ER is a clearly inappropriate environment for him to stay in- yes, even behavioural health-" you huffed, making eye contact with him and rolling your eyes as you listened to the other person talk. "And what's your clinical reasoning for that?" you asked, pausing as the person spoke again. "Alright, well then if it's a staffing concern I'll be raising that as a patient safety incident and- no? You don't want me to do that? Well-" You nodded, satisfied. "Wonderful. I'll be up with him in 20 minutes, I look forward to seeing you then."
Jack raised an eyebrow as you hung up the phone with a mutter of "Absolute prick" under your breath. You glanced at him, shrugging sheepishly.
"That's one way to handle it," he said, grinning.
You took a sip of coffee and looked far too pleased with yourself. "That's the most efficient way of handling it." You stretched and stood up, grabbing a pile of papers and organising them into the man's file. "The hospital's scared of paperwork. I love paperwork. That means the hospital's scared of me."
"Well, I'm glad you enjoy it," Jack said dryly. "One of us has to."
You just grinned and tucked your papers away. There was a pause, the silence hanging between you in that way that felt heavy without being uncomfortable. Jack was trying not to stare, but you were a lot more fun to watch than the rest of the ER.
After a beat, you cleared your throat and shifted your weight.
"Right, I'm going to get him up to psych. Thank you for the coffee again, Dr Abbot!" You gave his arm a brief, absent pat as you moved past, already calling out for an orderly to bring a wheelchair up. Just like that, you were gone - pulled back into the current of the department.
Jack stayed where he was for a second longer, coffee in hand, before pushing himself upright again and getting back to it.
At 7 a.m., Robby arrived, looking far more handsome than he had any right to in his old hoodie and scrubs. His backpack hung off one shoulder as he made his way through the department, nodding to staff as he passed. He was scanning the room as he went, always watching, always observing- it was what made him such a good chief of ER, though the hypervigilance followed him home, leaving him tense and struggling to relax more often than he wanted to admit.
Jack's eyes caught him as soon as he walked in, their bond prickling through the distance as Robby’s gaze locked on him from across the room. It was always like this- Robby's presence felt like a heartbeat just beneath Jack's skin, something steady and grounding in all the chaos. Jack felt a pang of longing so strong it made his chest ache. He wanted to go home with him, to hold him close and feel that warmth right against him, not greeting each other at handover, passing like ships in the night.
"Morning, sunshine," Robby greeted, his voice dry as he clapped a hand on Jack's shoulder. "How was your night?"
Jack glanced over at him, unable to hide the smirk that tugged at his lips. "Oh, you know, the usual. Blood, guts, and green men claiming to be from outer space." He rubbed his eyes. "Oh and someone who drank so much soy sauce he sent his sodium through the roof. Lab made me confirm it three times.”
Robby snorted, shaking his head in amusement. "Only you, Jack. Only you." He glanced around the ER, taking in the chaos. "Anything I need to know about before I take over?"
Jack quickly filled him in on the night's events, pointing out the patients who were waiting for beds upstairs, the ones who would be discharged. Robby listened intently, nodding along and making mental notes, his sharp mind already processing the information and formulating a plan of action.
As they talked, Jack found his gaze drifting back to you, standing off to the side, handing over to the day shift psych nurse. You looked as exhausted as he felt, your shoulders slumped and your eyes heavy with fatigue, but there was still a smile on your face as you chatted with your co-worker. He couldn't help but admire your resilience. Working the night shift was rough on even the best of them, but you handled it with grace.
The thought came uninvited, familiar enough now that it barely startled him- what it would be like to have you there at the end of a shift like this. Not here, in the noise and fluorescent glare, but at home instead, in their bed, tucked between him and Robby, warm and soft against his chest.
He shook his head, banishing the thought before it could take root. It was a dangerous line of thinking, one that led nowhere good. You were young, still building something for yourself, while he and Robby were settled - fixed, in a lot of ways, with too much history and weight behind them to pretend otherwise. It wouldn’t be fair, not to you, and not to what they had already built together.
They had talked about it before, in hushed voices at home long after the stress of the day had faded into quiet. They had acknowledged it for what it was - mutual, inconvenient, and impossible to ignore - but had agreed, just as deliberately, that it was not something they were willing to act on.
Didn’t make it easy.
Not at the end of a shift like this, when he was worn thin and the edges of things felt a little less solid than they should.
"Jack?" Robby's voice broke through his reverie, and Jack blinked, realising he'd been staring off into space. "You still with me, brother?"
"Sorry," Jack mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Long night."
Robby studied him for a moment, his expression softening with concern. "You should get some rest," he said quietly, knowing Jack wouldn't listen to his advice but needing to offer it all the same.
Jack just nodded, pushing himself away from the desk. "I'll see you later." he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Robby's cheek. "Don't work too hard."
"Never do," Robby shot back with a grin. Jack made his way to the locker room, intent on grabbing his things and heading out before he could get roped into anything else. But as he passed you, he slowed just slightly, enough to reach out and let his fingers brush your arm.
“Hey,” he said quietly, waiting until you looked up. “You did good work tonight. Get some rest, alright?”
You blinked at him, a flicker of surprise crossing your face before you nodded. “Thanks, Dr. Abbot. You too.” You hesitated, like there might have been something more to say, then stopped yourself. “See you this evening.”
“See you then,” he said.
He gave a brief nod to the rest of the staff and kept moving, too tired to linger any longer than necessary.
The drive home blurred together, familiar streets sliding past in a haze of exhaustion. He barely remembered pulling into the driveway, or fumbling with his keys before finally getting the door open. Inside, he moved on autopilot- taking off his prosthetic and switching to crutches, pulling off clothes- not even bothering to turn on the lights or check the time before he collapsed onto their bed.
The sheets still carried Robby’s scent - warmth and smoke - and Jack inhaled deeply, letting it settle around him, something close to peace in the aftermath of the night. Sleep came faster than expected, pulling him under as soon as his eyes closed.
He was too tired to dream. That was always a mercy.
loving the idea of Jack being restless after Pittfest's MCA and getting a roommate after his therapy suggests he engage with other people outside of work sooo here's this
Jack Abbot hates his roommate.
Correction, Jack Abbot is constantly-heavily-aggravated-slash-tormented by his twenty-something-year old roommate.
Granted, he hardly ever sees you. Lifestyles hardly aligning with each other and whatnot. Not to mention you're a bit of a recluse. That was why he let you move into his place to begin with, actually.
You weren't his first choice for a roommate, mind you, but his options had been scarce. Besides a man who ruined his chance after stating he walked around his home nude (despite the fact that Jack quite literally did the same thing every morning for his nude yoga), you'd been the only other person who replied to his Facebook listing.
lmao $500 for rent??? pls don't be a pervert i might kms if this is a scam
After Jack had pushed past your horrible texting style with elderly dismay, he thoroughly assured you there weren't any hidden strings attached to the deal and he wasn't looking to get off on your company in any way, shape or form. The money would cover groceries, but he did require assistance with a few chores he didn't often tend to because of the hours he worked at the hospital.
You moved in a week later while Jack was at work. Apart from the scare you gave him after he came home that morning after his shift only to find you casually eating breakfast in his kitchen and using his favorite mug ("Sorry," you'd shrugged when you noticed his pointed staring. "My stuff's still in boxes."), the two of you hardly interacted the first month of living together.
Jack shrugged it off when his therapist expressed that there would have been no point in acquiring a roommate if he was simply going to ignore you, and told her he was simply trying to get used to your sudden presence after building a decade old independent life.
That made him sound like you and Jack were two shelter cats trying to accustom themselves to each other's scent, but oh well.
However, it's a different story when he complains to Robby about the situation and his best friend simply suggests he kick you out. He's immediately backtracking on everything he said.
"Just kick her out if she bothers you so much."
"And leave her on the street?" Jack snorts, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "Don't hate the kid that much yet." And a small part of him knows he probably never will, either.
You bring some seasoning to his life that neither the ER or his SWAT duties bring. You're a whole other human. That's an entire new life added into the equation.
In the ten months Jack has known you, these are a few things he's learned:
You argue with your boyfriend.
Like, a lot. It's not even stupid juvenile shit Jack could simply roll his eyes and scoff at, either. There's been times where he's gotten so worried that he stood at your closed doorway and listened to your loud altercation over the phone, pose stiff and mind racing.
Afterwards, while the two of you watched Barry in the living room, empty boxes of takeout on the coffee table, he'd quietly and subtly remind you he worked in the ER, home to people who waved off these relationship issues as mere "couple's quarrels" and then turned up with bruised cheeks or bloodied lips, sometimes worse.
You've yet to take him out on any offers, but he's content to know that despite your relaxed and humorous nature, you never roll your eyes or send him away with a remark about dramatics.
You love to cook.
On his rare days off after Robby denies him entry to any available shifts, Jack also has the pleasure of being kicked out of his own kitchen in the house he owns so you can thrive in the making of your dishes. You insist you can't focus with him practically breathing down your neck in his attempts of helping out, and he's forced to either sit on the small kitchen table where the two of you usually eat or go watch whatever game is playing on TV.
The food is pretty fuckin' good, so he lets it slide. After some grumbling about your generation and their variety of needs to function, of course. And if he keeps his complaints to a minimum, sometimes you send him to work with treats to share with the Nightcrawlers.
Sure, he has to send you stern voice memos now and then to remind you to blow out your candles before going out (which never fail to amuse Ellis and Shen, who witness these before shift starts and have begged to meet the chef for the delicious lunches Jack brings in). And it's a pain in the ass scrubbing the sink where you dye your hair (he's quite literally offered to pay for a salon dye job just so you'd stop, to which you claimed it's an experience of its own doing it yourself, causing Jack to throw several rolled pairs of socks in your direction while you squealed and ran off). Not to mention the ungodly amount of packages that make their way to the front porch that he trips over after his shifts.
But…it's home, in a way. In between his grumblings, complaining, and constant aggravation for your habits, he's grown comfortable with the space you've burrowed into his life.
Summary: Brendon and you settle in for your first night at the new house.
SET AFTER:
Rockstar - Brendon Park meets his match against PTMC's fiery new attending.
Pussy Wagon - A spilled drink leads you to see a different side of your nemesis Park The Shark.
The First Time (NSFW) - Fireworks aren't the only explosive thing happening at Jesse's Fourth of July party.
A Loaded Gun (NSFW) - Hate sex has never been so fucking hot...
This Is Not A Love Story - Brandon tries to set a rule after a 'sticky' situation.
The Game - Brendon finds himself breaking his own rules when it comes to you.
Tell. Me. To. Stop (NSFW) - Jealousy is not an emotion Brendon Park is accustomed to.
Pittfest -Brendon comforts you when you fall apart after the events of Pittfest.
Is He Prettier Than Me? - Brandon gets curious when he learns you have other plans.
The Drawer - Brendon realises your relationship may be shifting when he discovers he has a drawer at your place.
Scrunchies - Scrunchies… they’re the downfall of Brendon Park.
Love Games (NSFW) - Brendon and you love to play games, especially with each other.
An Exquisite Form of Torture (NSFW) - Brendon continues to turn up the heat as he holds you captive.
THAT Guy - Brendon is forced to face up to his feelings for you when he finds out your meeting up with an ex.
Seven Days - Seven days is far too long to go without you...
Save It - A thirty six hour shift leads to another admission about your relationship with Brendon.
Doctor Dick - Brendon's day takes a turn when Whitaker gives him some critical information.
A Manipulative Fuck - You and Brendon discuss what happened with your ex.
The Call (NSFW) - Brendon decides to put a stop to David's calls once and for all.
The One That Hates The Ravens - David's attempt at revenge backfires spectacularly.
The Lovin Spoonful - You wake up to an unexpected surprise.
Delete, Block, Rinse, Repeat - A series of cryptic messages force Brendon to confront a secret he's been keeping for almost a decade.
His Father's Son - Brendon reflects on the past as he debates taking that first sip of whiskey.
The Cost of Dignity - Brendon's greatest secret comes with a cost.
A Kiss For Luck - Brendon struggles to navigate working at the hospital after the release of THAT video.
The Craziest Fucking Thing - You take matters into your own hands after receiving bad news from Brendon.
Ride Or Die - You wake up to the sound of an angry blender after Brendon discovers what happened with Rowena.
Baby Shark - Once a year Brendon always ends up back at the aquarium.
Diamonds (NSFW) - A bet leads to naughty shenanigans in a five star restaurant.
The Call Out - Brendon's focus on wedding planning is disrupted when he's called out to the scene of a multi-car pile up.
Good Hands - Abbot reminds Brendon you're in good hands as they proceed with the amputation.
Flayed - Brendon's world crashes down as he learns the truth about the accident.
Ten Things I Love About You - Brendon discovers a pink envelope in the pocket of the jacket you were wearing at the time of the accident.
The Parent Trap - Brendon faces your parents, leading to a surprise revelation.
Sledgehammer - Brendon struggles to cope in the aftermath of everything that's happened.
Et Tu Marianne? - Your mother throws Brendon under the bus after you wake up from surgery.
Roses - Brendon is forced to deal with a vindictive POS when a dozen red roses are delivered to your door.
The Fucking Patient - Abbot has some harsh words for Brendon regarding your care.
Chemistry - You and Brendon finally have a moment alone to talk.
A Serial Absconder - Your habit of disappearing leads to a healing journey Brendon doesn't expect.
Home - Brendon introduces you to your new home after the accident.
The Change Up - When you struggle to reacclimate at home Brendon realises you need a change up.
You sleep with a body pillow.
One shaped like an L that you cradle into your form, the length of it setting between your legs, elevating your hip just enough so it doesn’t ache while you drift off. Not being able to sleep because you can’t figure out a good position for your limb is a common problem when you first get home. Brendon had discovered this after doing some research on Reddit to stream line your reintegration, so the body pillow was his solution.
You’d laughed when you’d seen it resting on your side of the bed, protesting you’d never had an issue in the hospital, but mattresses at home, they’re different. You’d just had to figure it out for yourself.
So, he’d sit back and let you, biting his tongue when you’d finally huffed and asked for the pillow.
“You don’t have to look so smug about it.” You’d mumbled, wrapping yourself around it before scooting your ass back into the cradle of his hips. He’d draped himself over you like a weighted blanket and you’d nestled in as close as you could, cocooned in the sanctuary of his body, warm, safe, right where you were always meant to be.
Sleeping without you this past month, it’s been a nightmare. Figuratively and literally. He’d spent his nights at the condo, tossing and turning, reliving the scenes from the day at the call out. It’s to be expected his counsellor had told him when he’d given him a diagnosis of PTSD, he’d been through something no person should have to go through. But so had you and you were mostly sunshine and rainbows despite the fact you were missing an integral part of your anatomy.
A lesser man may feel resentful of that but there’s something so beautiful in all the joy you seem to find in the world. It sparks something inside of him, a more hopeful version of the man he’s been since the accident. The EMDR sessions, they’ve been helping but the real remedy to his ailment is you, it’s having you back in his arms right where you belong.
Even if you do snore.
Because you do, even though you completely deny it.
He tucks himself in even tighter against you, his face buried in your unruly hair as he breathes you in, the soothing cadence of your body lulling him to sleep.
For the first time in over a month there’s no nightmares, there’s only you.
