Bunny @bunnybooooooooo - Tumblr Blog

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚.𝓇𝒾𝒹𝒾𝒸𝓊𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈𝓁𝓎 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔⡈ ⡠ ٭

patrick that is so disgustingly in love with you, so absolutely gone, to the point his whole body just gives under the pressure of his adoration.

between many, endless things that demonstrate to you just how much his body just radiates with love, kissing is certainly one of them.

having the smug, usually careless, borderline sociopathic patrick jane just melt into you, desperately at that, just proves to you how much his love is true.

his heavy palms holding your skull, his tall frame curling into itself as he leans into you, leaning desperately, as if every little move you give means you'll pull away. knees giving in slightly, not dramatically, just a tremor in his bones as he tries to bend his body to fit around your own.

he holds you with fear, almost, kisses you randomly when you're not even ready to meet the intensity his lips present yours. the need for you just coming out of his pores with how tightly he holds you. how his hands grip your jaw a little when your surprised self doesn't immediately reciprocate his spontaneous assault of your lips.

he wants you to feel just as intensely for him, wants you to be just as tortured as he is, so the moment you melt into him, when your loving arms embrace him back, his ever-screaming thoughts dissapear into static. his brain leaking out of his ears as your own lips move languidly against his, and the pink muscle that is your tongue, plush and slick with spit, hidden until then, traces his bottom lip teasingly.

causing his own tongue to wrap around yours, a syrupy exchange of dna, lazy and full of need that you're too lazy to act upon. too lazy, when all the licking and slurping just cause you to lean further into him, hold him closer and make his heart grow so big in his chest he can hear his ribs crack.

when you whine softly in response to the heat starting to form between you, the one that trails all over your body and ends between your thighs; your sound of pleasure is met with an even needier sound from him.

maybe a mock, but definitely an affirmation of the arousal that makes you two rub against each other like cats. a sound that you love hearing leave him, because even though you know he's repeating what he hears from you, it doesn't make it any less real.

so now, dizzy and hot, those tragic eyes of his having their pupils all blown, he just looks at you in awe. breathing like a dog, more truthful than he had ever allowed himself to be, in a pleasure drowned murmur, he speaks.

"i love you..." he declares, serious, sobered up from the pleasure, grim in his seriousness, as if this is a life or death situation that's leaning more towards death and he desperately needs you to hear it.

confession, which gains a loud laugh from you, and a reciprocation of his words, that causes him to laugh too in confusion. tension slightly melting into something sweet and familiar as you two bicker over your visible amusement. as if his words weren't painfully obvious when you could feel him through his dress pants.

ik he's so chalant matter of fact he's the most chalant if i'm allowed to say that

samirasystole

oh my god

plumeriyaaa

Coworker friendships be like (inspired by that one ayo edibiri and ebon moss-bachrach story pic)

drinkerofpepper

It's been awhile

4k+ words

Summary: you had been working with Patrick Jane for awhile at the CBI one night you stay late to talk about the case. One thing leads to another... The next morning your gone

Content: Patrick Jane x female reader / suggestive content/ making out in public/ hurt/comfort / kidnapping/ reader gets punched and stabbed:( / confessing fellings / if I forgot something please let me know

An : I am so excited to post this! This is my first time writing for Patrick Jane I just started watching The mentalist about a month ago I'm almost finished season 2 and this man has been on my mind non-stop. If you have any requests regarding this character please let me know but !!!!no spoilers please!!!

You sat on that leather couch with your feet on Jane's lap. The rest of the team had gone home. And Cho had just finished his paperwork. He told you both to get some sleep. Before he left the office.

Most of the lights were off. It was so quiet. You normally never stayed behind, but something about this case was different. You had something on the tip of your tongue but you couldn't quite get there yet you didn't have enough evidence.

“You feel guilty.” you lift your head from the arm rest. Jane's eyes are closed. Like they've been for the last half hour.

“What?” He always does this. You don't know why you humour him every time. Maybe because you're soft on him. Many people think he's a pain in the ass when he somehow manages to read your mind and share it with everyone around. But you never minded it. You were a pretty open book anyways.

“You feel guilty because you need more evidence. You feel guilty because you want more. And the only way to get more is for another girl to die. You don't want that but you need it, hence guilty.” He says with his eyes still closed.

You rolled your eyes and let your head fall back. Right again

“You're right” you hear Jane hum. You sit up “I do feel guilty. We need more evidence. Obviously this guy's a cereal we just need him to…”

kiraavi

feministjane

Boyfriend Patrick Jane x Fem!CBI Agent!Reader

AN:This is my first ever writing thing, I apologize for any misspelling or bad editing(there was non). Please give me feed back if you can!

Boyfriend Patrick Jane who can read your mood the second you walk into a room. Skipped breakfast? He’ll know. case affecting you more then your letting on? He knows. Hurt your shoulder taking down a suspect? He defiantly knows. He knows how you work. You’ll tell him when your ready, but when you find a half a sandwich and a coffee on your desk while he’s half asleep on his favoured couch, you know he knows. When you ask how, he just smiles.

Boyfriend Patrick Jane whom with nicknames are consistent at work, always “Y/L/N” or “agent”. At home? Never, always your name, “My sunshine” “sweetheart” “darling” (or “trouble” if he wants to get you riled).

Boyfriend Patrick Jane When on cases You’re one of the only people who can actually call him out at work, or make him make good decisions( or at least let you in on the bad ones)

Boyfriend Patrick Jane Who has the habit of putting himself in dangerous situations with no back up, but since starting to date you, he lets you pull him back.

“Patrick-“

“Yes?”

“Absolutely not.”

Boyfriend Patrick Jane who is protective, and while he knows you can absolutely fight your own battles, sometimes he takes over before you can. Someone raised their voice at you? “Don’t talk to her like that.” Sometimes when he’s already riled and someone verbally insults you, he’ll yell. He doesn’t like to, but no one hurts you and gets away like it’s nothing.

Boyfriend Patrick Jane And your house. Neither of you are exactly the most tidy, your house (after moving into a new place, not the same house in which Patrick lost his family) is homey. Lived in but not messy. Books and journals scattered. Shelves full. But you’re happy with it.

Boyfriend Patrick Jane Who admits always that You’re his happy place. Simple as that. Your nights at home consist of cooking, tea, old movies, you reading on the couch, him pretending to read while in reality he’s just staring at you. “Jane, you’re staring” you’ll say without looking up from your book. “Yeah I am.” He says with that signature smile.

Boyfriend Patrick Jane who is a do now, deal with later person. But, now you’re his voice of reason. Even if you’re not there you’re on his mind, he has someone to think about again. Now he starts to think before he acts. He still has slip ups, but he apologizes and promises he’s working on it.

Boyfriend Patrick Jane who has no shame about his love for you. He loves not loud, but passionately. He is like a love sick puppy with you. While PDA is on the down low at work, at home? He can’t keep his hands off you. Not nessarcily sexual, but just that he needs to have some kind of contact with you.

Boyfriend Patrick Jane who would never admit it but you getting mad at him kinda turns him on. He’s out of line, he put himself in the middle of something he shouldn’t have, his perfect girl is there to yell at him. And he is Smiling the entire time, cause he is exactly where he wants to be

#patrick jane #patrick jane x reader #Patrick Jane fluff #simon baker #the mentalist #boyfriend!patrick Jane #this is my first time writing I apologize for it if it’s horrid

paperclipsentimental

patrick jane truly is a character of all time. he's arrogant. he's broken. he's haunted. he's funny. he's genuinely delighted by small pleasures. he likes breaking and entering. he's a tea snob. he's tortured frequently on screen. he flinches every time a gun goes off. he hides behind his female colleagues when he gets scared. he's a sociopath. he's a liar. he does magic tricks. he has basically no moral compass and will do anything to catch the guy who killed his wife and child, including lie to and use everyone he cares about. he sleeps on a mattress on the floor in the room his family was murdered in, with the calling card of their killer still on the wall. he loves children. he's very empathetic. he's the reason his family is dead. he loves setting traps and catching people in lies. he hates rich people and doesn't care when they get murdered. he's a card shark. he always knows what everyone is thinking. when people piss him off he makes their lives miserable. he hypnotises people all the time. he's a con man. he's the most honest guy you'll ever meet. like literally where else do you find a freak like that.

flurofujo

o69p license plate son or eat pussy it’s vegan shirt daughter

se7entyrell

supercut of us masterlist.

The one where Jack Abbot accidentally knocks up Robby's little (step)sister in his final year of college.

warnings: this blog is 18+, mdni! this fic deals with pregnancy, discussions of abortion and medical complications, explicit sexual content, slut-shaming (not by jack), reader is robby's step-sister, they are not related biologically, and reader's appearance is not described at all.

prologue sneak peak // meet the cast // instagram post snippet // original moodboard

prologue.

chapter one.

chapter two.

chapter three.

chapter four.

chapter five.

chapter six.

chapter seven.

chapter eight.

chapter nine.

chapter ten.

chapter eleven.

chapter twelve.

epilogue.

maeverrrb

i NEED more people to watch the mentalist because my patrick jane obsession needs to be spread

shitpostian

me and the other 5 cho fans

Chat I need people to start getting into the mentalist, I need Patrick Jane x reader fics, I need grumpy Cho x sunshine reader, I NEED IT PLEASE! I lack the skills of writing and have recently moved on from the Pitt to the mentalist (I still fuck with a good abbot fic dw) but this fandom needs to grow, we need more talented people here. We need smut, we need headcannons and 4K+ worded fics, and one shots.

#please #the mentalist #kimball cho #patrick jane #teresa lisbon #fic rec #fandoms

lovepollution

jack abbot + emojis

mourningstareyes

ring me up - jack abbot x reader

summary - jack abbot fucking loves his wedding ring, and hasn't parted with it since the day the two of you wed. after damaging it while helping robby fix his bike, it is back at the jeweller to get re-plated, and he has to endure a shift without both you and his beloved band of metal. without his ring, it becomes apparent that doctor abbot is a hot item. all he wants is to be back in your arms.

warnings/themes - married couple/established relationship, attending!reader, jealousy, poorly written dialogue, fluff, suuuuper mild angst/displeasure, awkward scenarios, reader is the kind of person to laugh at everything, cattiness, corny as fuck

notes - I got myself lost in some other written bits and got so tangled up that I'm sick of them and never want to release them hahahaha - this is the result of me wanting to just create SOMETHING ELSE. I hope you enjoy.

Jack Abbot, to his credit, absolutely adored wearing his wedding ring.

When the conversation regarding marriage had first come up between you, now a good few years ago, you had approached the topic of rings with gentle palms.

He had stopped wearing his first ring a few months into your time at PTMC, a decision which was made after many late nights of him pacing around his apartment, whiskey in hand and ring clinking against the glass. When he put the golden band down for the last time, his heart exhaled a breath he hadn’t realised it was holding. Three months later, Jack gave into the butterflies in his stomach - ones he thought would never come around again - and asked you out.

When he proposed you had insisted, a beautiful, sizable diamond on your ring finger, that when the pair of you tied the knot, he didn’t have to wear a ring again regularly, or at all, if he didn’t want to.

But damn, did this man ever want to. The smooth gunmetal band which sat on his ring finger was his pride and joy from the moment you slipped it on at the altar. He loved the subtle weight of it grounding him under his blue gloves. And the way it looked against your smooth skin as his hands found your body. Most of all, he loved the way it linked him to you, showing the world that he was a more than happily taken man. There was very, very little which would make Jack part with his ring, even for a short time.

One of the things which did force him to take his ring off was the scratches and grease which came with fixing Robby’s motorbike. Between reinstalling a chain and shoving his hands between tight metal components, the black rhodium plating on the platinum had been scratched away in several places.

“For fuck’s sake.” The man groaned when he looked down at his hand. Robby looked over at what had caused his best friend so much displeasure.

“Looks like it’s time to make a trip back to the jeweller, brother.” The older man grinned, clapping Jack on the shoulder.

When your husband had come home to you, he looked like a school boy who had just shattered a window with a stray baseball, a shy shame present on his face at damaging something so precious. After he confessed his so-called crime, you had laughed, grabbed his hand and kissed his knuckles, an act so warm it sunk into his bones in a way only your love could. Then you pointed out a cut along the back of his hand, patched it up and booked an appointment at your jeweller to have it polished and re-plated.

And that was how, on a cool Monday evening, Jack Abbot had rolled up to the Pitt without his wedding ring. You were off that night, set to instead take over Collins’ attending shift the next morning, and had bid your husband goodbye with a soft ice-cream flavoured kiss from where you sat curled up on the couch.

The kiss lingered as he walked through the ER doors, bag slung over his shoulder. He had been running his thumb over the empty space on his ring finger, half still thinking about the taste of sweet dairy on your lips as Lena and Dana waved him over. Dana was clearly on her way out, her civilian jacket already over her scrubs. Two unfamiliar women stood beside the charge nurses, each with MEDICAL STUDENT emblazoned on their plastic nametags.

“Amber, Amy, this is Doctor Jack Abbot, our nighttime attending and ER cowboy.” Dana nodded in Jack’s direction as he strode over to the desk. She gave him a knowing, teasing look as the two newcomers took him in. Judging by the way the ginger - Amber - straightened her back and licked her lips, and the way Amy lit up in a shy blush, twirling a strand of platinum blonde hair around her finger, the sight of the older attending had made an impression on them.

“These ladies are our newest medical students and are currently on their emergency department rotation.” Lena continued, glancing over her red reading glasses at Dana. They had seen those looks on more than a few newbies over the years. Jack Abbot just had that effect on people.

“Doctor Abbot, it’s such a pleasure.” Amber smiled, wide and cat-like, extending a thin hand to him. “I have heard such good things about PTMC’s emergency department, and I’m sure you’re the reason for that.”

“We have a good team of nightcrawlers here, I’m just a cog in the machine.” He shook her hand, and then Amy’s, his standard dry, polite smile gracing his face.

Before either medical student could gush further, McKay walked up to Jack, tablet in hand. Judging by the dark circles under her eyes, she was more than ready to begin hand-over. He greeted her with a smile, eyes crinkling.

“What have you got for me?”

The last of the day shift filtered out an hour later, surprisingly on time compared to the usual timeline the liminal space of the ER followed.

“Trouble in paradise, eh boss?” Shen needled with a grin as he came through the ambulance bay door, gesturing at his ring finger, which was just as bare as Jack’s in that moment. As one of your closest friends, you had texted him about the situation the night before, but that wasn’t about to stop him teasing the older man. Jack rolled his eyes.

The night progressed with the same erratic heartbeat it always did. A deeply displeased man came in with a mild GSW to his foot, his friend trailing behind the gurney with a guilty look on his face as he attempted to explain the bizarre, convoluted game they had been playing which had somehow involved a shotgun. Jack oversaw Ellis teaching Amy how to remove buckshot from the wound, the blonde turning to him for approval at every step. She flushed bright pink under the fluorescent hospital lights when the attending gave her a ‘looks good’ and a thumbs up, before leaving the room. Ellis shared a look with Shen as he walked past, poorly hiding the amusement on both of their faces.

An hour later a trio of twenty-something year old women drunkenly stumbled through the door of the ER in a mess of flakey mascara and hair extensions, following their friend who sat crying her eyes out in a wheelchair. It had turned out to be a wrist fracture, likely thanks to the broken bright red heel which now sat in her lap. When Jack strolled in, x-ray results in hand, the tears instantly stopped, replaced by a watery smile. Amber trailed in a moment later.

The group giggled quietly, and not so quietly, among themselves as the attending calmly walked the patient through the fix for her wrist. She nodded along, carefully not making eye contact.

“We’re so glad she’s in such good hands, and biceps!” One of the group sputtered out, being cut off by an elbow to the ribs from the friend sitting next to her, who was a tad more sober - that being a very low bar.

“Amber here is one of our med students and great learner and will be putting the cast on for you today.” Jack offered one of his professionally charming smiles, much to the delight of the tipsy gaggle. Amber’s scrowl at the unabashed flirtation from the party-goer melted away at the praise.

Half an hour and one fairly well completed cast later, the med student was pulled from the treatment room to accompany Ellis for a new case assessment.

“So…could I get your number…just in case I need any further…checkups?” The mixture of painkillers, her girls behind her and the late hour made the dark-haired patient unusually bold, even through the now-dried mascara lines on her cheeks.

“Our charge nurse can find you some urgent care contact numbers,” Jack bit back a smile as she flexed her fingers and checked her range of motion. “You can always come back tomorrow if there ‘s any rubbing or discomfort with the cast - might even meet my wife if you do.” The smile pushed its way through at the mention of you.

At the mention of a wife and the genuine, boyish smile which had appeared on the doctor’s face, the group cooed in unison, a new kind of delight making its way into the room with the information that their handsome doctor had deservedly found his other half.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-” The patient hid her face in her unimpeded hand.

“Photos! Show us photos!” She was cut off by one of her friends. “Is she a doctor here too?”

“Sure is. Damn good doctor, better than me.” The man chuckled, pulling out his phone. Outside of what was required by the ER, he wasn’t the most tech-savvy, but the first thing he had done upon getting his new phone was to change his lock screen to a photo of you on your last holiday together - far too long ago now - a large sunhat perched on your head and bright smile on your face.

The girls squealed in collective approval, even the patient forgetting her embarrassment to join in on the comments of ‘power couple’ and ‘oh she’s gorgeous!’.

Half an hour later, discharge documents in hand marked 1.17am, the group made their way out, waving their farewells and chirping their sweet ‘goodbye Doctor Abbot’s. Jack good-heartedly returned their waves, an action which brought a sour expression to Amber’s face.

Jack Abbot was typically one of the most business-minded, compartmentalised doctors that the PTMC had to offer. On an ordinary day he left the outside world on the other side of the ER doors and focused his whole self on whatever came his way. Yet, that evening, as the night waned he found his mind floating back to you. You’d be asleep right now, tucked under the small mountain of blankets and sheets which you insisted on when sleeping alone. Somehow, without the band of metal sitting against his skin, he felt lonelier than he had in a long while. He should have just called in sick, he thought with a sigh. He could be enjoying the way you curled up into him in your sleep right now, instead of doing whatever this was.

“You alright darl’?” Lena raised an eyebrow at the man and his left hand. He had been standing at the PC for a moment too long, staring blankly at a chart which didn’t need half the attention he was giving it. Shen had shooed the med students away to eat ‘lunch’ - at 2am - and the ER hit the strange, slow, half-awake lull that the nightcrawlers had come to expect on Monday nights. Jack's left thumb ran over where his ring usually sat, again and again. “You’re not wearing your usual hardware, you piss off our girl?”

“Fuck I hope not.” He snapped out of his train of thought, looked up from the screen and smiling wryly with a shake of his head. “Can thank Robby and his death machine for this.” He held up his hand.

Lena scoffed, stapling the stack of paper before her.

“So the only person beating you up right now is you, I take it?”

He grumbled out an agreement, finally closing the patient file before him and beginning charting another.

“She’s so calm about it. She laughed when I showed her.” He murmured. “It’s just…’s unnatural. Being without it.”

Lena let out a chortle at the attending’s unusually soft confession, patting him on the back as she walked past.

“You’ll be okay, hon’.”

The worst of the shift came in the form of a middle-aged driver who had been at an intersection at the wrong time. After an hour of stabilising procedures and near-misses, he lay unconscious on the table in the middle of Trauma 1 in the early hours of the morning, a large gaping wound along the side of his abdomen the last remaining obstacle between him and finally heading up to the ICU. Amber had been pulled in alongside Jack and Jesse, the three of them appropriately gowned and geared up. Jack was already covered in blood, largely thanks to the punctured artery which had been addressed, but this was finally a task which he could take the time to walk the med student through.

“Okay - this is a simple closure, what nylon are we using for this?”

“Uhh…standard 4/0 should do the trick?” She looked up at him through her thick lashes.

“Correct, good.” The attending nodded as Jesse handed her the correct equipment. Amber smiled under her mask.

She began the procedure, Jack correcting her tension on occasion, but otherwise remaining silent, looming over her with a watchful eye.

“Y’know…” the student continued sewing, “it’s unusual to have an attending who isn’t…intimidating.”

“Hm?” Jack didn’t look at her, eyes still on the procedure. Her knots and lines were straight enough for a med student, but that didn’t stop his mind from drifting to the, frankly, picturesque closure jobs you performed. His lip twitched upward beneath his mask - you’d laugh at him describing your work as ‘picturesque’.

“You’re just so…warm and supportive,” Amber continued, Jesse cringing from the corner of the trauma room. “So…available.”

The male nurse made a mental note to be moved back to the day shift.

“I mean - uh…” she caught herself and the lack of filter between her brain and mouth. “You’re very, uh- easy to talk to.”

Jack blinked. He was a good attending, he thought, but you handled med students far better than he typically did. Again he smiled under his mask, eyes crinkling at the thought of you. Fuck he missed his ring.

“Thanks. I think it’s important that we operate as a unit to get the job done.” He looked up at the clock on the wall. Another hour to go before you would finally show up, but this task was finally complete.

“Good job today, kid.” He shed his gown and glasses. “Jesse, make sure that the ICU knows there’s one coming up.”

Jesse half breathed a sigh of relief as the attending left the room, and then half rolled his eyes at the look of smug delight on Amber’s face.

In actuality it took less than an hour for you to show up, emerging through the ER doors with your messenger bag slung over one shoulder and cherry-coloured scarf thrown around your neck. In typical fashion you beat the rest of the day shift to being on site, something which you made a mental note to hang over Robby’s head later. Your winter coat sat over your dark scrubs, a paper bag hanging off one hand, and four hot coffees in a cardboard tray in the other. You strolled up to the hub, which was empty save for Amber at a PC, placing the tray on the desk. The chief attending wasn’t around yet to complain about food and drink being outside the breakroom.

“Morning,” you gave Amber a smile. After a beat she looked up from her charting. “You know where Abbot is?”

“Oh, you’re Doordash.” She looked at you and then the tray before her, expression flat. “You can just leave that there, I’ll find Doctor Abbot shortly.”

“No need, thanks Amber.” The man in question appeared behind her, face lit up despite the dark circles now under his eyes. “This is one of our normal night attending,” he introduced you with your full doctorly title, grinning at the way you rolled your eyes at the formality. “She’s filling in for one of the day shift staff today.”

At this point your husband was standing at your side, eyeing the tray before you. He gratefully accepted the cup marked with a ‘J’, taking a sip with a satisfied hum. It was black, medium roast, a drip of cream. Perfect. Jack wanted to kiss you so badly in that moment that it hurt, partially because of the coffee but mainly because of the ache in his heart that the absence of his ring had brought about in your 13 hours apart. But no, in accordance with HR’s conditions on you working together, PDA was to be kept to a minimum while at work.

“I’m glad you’re in early - got something that I need an extra set of eyes on.” His lips curved up in a way that only ever meant trouble. “Would you be able to join me for a moment before we begin handover, doctor?”

Amber had been watching this exchange with a sour look of uncertainty. She knew something was afoot here, but was unable to put her finger on it.

“Can I come?” She blurted out, reminding you both of her presence. “To learn, of course. Doctor Abbot has been so informative today and I am always eager to get ahead.”

“No need, Amber. You finish up and clock out. Help yourself to a pastry if you want.” Jack took the paper bag from your hand and offered it to her. She took it silently, watching on as you followed after the man, throwing your coat over the back of a computer chair as you went.

“So what do you have to show me in this empty, ordinary treatment room which just so happens to be at the very end of the south wing, Doctor Abbot?” You grinned as your husband pulled the curtain shut, before stepping into your space.

His hands, calloused, skilled, found your scrub-clad waist, pulling you close and kissing you deeply. He tasted like the sip of coffee he had enjoyed a moment earlier, and a tad more of desperation than he normally did. You melted into it, fingers finding his thick curls.

You finally pulled back to look at your beautiful man, running your ER-short nails down the back of his neck.

“Missed you,” he murmured, voice rough as he buried his face in the dip between your neck and shoulder. Jack inhaled deeply, humming softly as he savoured the scent of you and the comically expensive lotion which you lathered yourself in before slipping into your scrubs. It was to stop your skin from drying out under PTMC’s constant air conditioning, you had explained the first time he watched you get ready for work. And he was never one to complain about something which somehow made you even more edible than you were naturally.

“We’ve been apart what, 12 hours? What happened to my strong, independent man?” He could feel you smile through your faux-protest.

“13, actually.” Jack pulled himself away from your neck to graze his lips over the crown of your head.

“Oh of course you’re missing me then. So many millennia have passed, lover mine.” You teased, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him for another kiss. He could taste the sugar of the danish you had had for breakfast that morning.

“How about…” he mumbled against your lips, his fingers finding their way under the very hem of your scrub top. Your skin was warm and familiar under his touch. “...you call out today-”

“What the fuck!”

A feminine screech split the moment. Amber stood before the two of you, having pulled back the curtain just a smidge. She looked mortified, pulling the privacy screen back once more and booking it for the central hub. Jack groaned, resting his forehead against your shoulder. You laughed.

The two of you made your way back to the hub a few minutes later. You had slung your stethoscope around your neck, looking every bit the professional you were. Likewise, Jack didn’t have a hair out of place, looking down at a tablet as he calmly explained what cases were being carried over by you into the day shift. You had shared a giggling, conspiratorial look in the hallway a moment earlier - you were nothing if not experts at this.

Amber stood at one of the desks, her back to you. She was whispering loudly to Ellis, her voice sharp and irritated. You caught Ellis’ eye as you walked over, and she threw up a peace sign in your direction, one of the brown paper coffee cups being cradled in her other hand.

“-and they were all over each other! It was shocking!” The med student hissed. Ellis nodded slowly, taking a sip from her cup.

“So you saw Doctor Abbot…involved…with another member of the staff?” The senior resident queried, voice dry.

“Yes! It was absurd.”

“Was it that staff member?” Ellis gestured to where you stood, looking down at a patient’s chart as you listened in on the conversation, unable to fully hide your smile.

Amber nodded emphatically.

“So you…saw Doctor Abbot…kissing his wife?”

“His wife!?” The ginger looked incredulous, spinning around to take in where you and Jack stood. “He has a wife? Her!?”

Jack sighed where he stood, leaning in as he handed you the tablet, his shift now over. You smothered a giggle with a faux yawn, hand over your mouth. Your husband pressed a kiss to your forehead, eyes flicking up to meet Amber’s in a very deliberate, very rare, work treat. She shrunk back at the look.

“I can’t fucking wait to get my damn ring back.”

metal-armed-muse

Old man Jack struggling to keep up with his younger partner. But don’t save him, he’s right where he wants to be.

no warnings other than the age gap. gender neutral reader methinks?

“Situation-what?”

“Situationship.”

“That’s not a word.”

“It’s a word, Jack.”

He’s pretty sure it’s not a word. He’s also pretty sure arguing that point is a losing battle since you’d be his opponent.

You’re mid rant about your best friend and some guy named Miles who apparently isn’t her boyfriend but also isn’t not her boyfriend. Which as far as Jack can tell, just means the guy’s a wuss, but nobody asked him.

“So he’s her boyfriend?”

“No. Like, that’s the whole point, he’s not.”

“But he acts like her boyfriend?”

“Kinda.”

“And she acts like his girlfriend.”

“I mean, yeah, but—”

“So he’s her boyfriend.”

You throw a couch cushion at his head for that one and he catches it without even looking, which he’s a little proud of, but you don’t seem to care.

ofstarsandvibranium

“So if you’re cooked, that’s a bad thing. But if you’re cooking, that’s a good thing?”

“Yes. Absolutely. You got it.”

“So when exactly would I use being cooked?”

You try to hold on your laughter at Jack’s genuine confusion but also interest, “So say you’re in a rough situation. Like you have a job interview coming up and you got a flat tire on the way there. You’d say ‘I’m so cooked!’ because you’d be late to the interview or even miss it and then you won’t get the job.”

Jack mulls over your explanation, slowly nodding his head as he comes to an understanding, “Okay so when I forgot we had a date that one time and I was running late, I was cooked because I knew you’d be upset with me?”

You nod, “Yes. One hundred percent a perfect scenario for you to use that phrase.”

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