y'all I have a folder full of new reaction fics and I've organized them according to genre/use. i'm so excited!!!!!
I love doing long reblogs and using pics in reblogs/comment sections. They're essentially my love language atp bc fanfic writers deserve love and attention for all their hard work. Plus, it lets me share all my thoughts and reflections while being a little silly. The reaction pics add a little whimsy, and now that my collection has expanded and been organized, I cannot wait for my next reblog 🫶
You drag a small step stool over to the shelves in the library because, once again, the Men of Letters apparently believed anyone under six feet tall should simply accept defeat.
Sam looks up from his laptop. "You know," he says, "you could ask for help."
You glance down at him. "I could. But I've been dealing with this my whole life. I'm used to step stools and tiptoes. I'm not actually used to living with a giant. Besides, I don't want you to have to follow me around all day just to reach stuff."
He smiles to himself and goes back to his research.
Dean looks up from his phone. "He follows you around all day anyway."
Sam ignores it.
"Don't worry Sammy, you make an adorable puppy," you say.
Sam ignores that.
You find the journal you're after, wedge it under your arm, and start looking through the shelf for another one.
A minute later Sam walks up.
"Hey," he says.
"Hey."
He leans in to kiss you.
"Wow, I just realized I always get up on my tiptoes when I kiss you. I guess it's just automatic. I never even thought about it. This height makes it easier to kiss you."
"It's easier for me too. I don't have to bend down so far."
He kisses you again.
And again.
"Wait, this is suspicious," you say.
"What?"
"I think you like me better this height."
"I like you every height."
"Mhm."
"I do… But this height is ..."
"Ergonomic?"
He laughs. "I was going to say nice."
You look at the little stool under your feet. "I could carry one around with me."
Sam's expression immediately says he is taking this possibility far more seriously than it deserves. "You are not carrying a step stool around on hunts."
"A folding one?"
"No."
"A travel stool?"
"No."
"Stilts?"
He laughs. Then he wraps an arm around your waist before you can continue the argument.
"You are not wearing stilts."
"What? You don't think I could walk in them, or fight in them?"
"Not safely, no, but more importantly, Dean would make fun of both of us for the rest of our lives."
You nod.
"I definitely would," Dean says.
Sam kisses you one last time.
"You know," he says, "you could still just ask me to get things off the top shelf."
You smile. "I know."
"But?"
"But now I know there are ergonomic benefits."
Dean doesn't even look up from his phone.
"For the record, that's what happens when you fall for a sasquatch."
👉 Read the Series: Sam x fem!reader insert (no "Y/N") AU fanfic Series Accidentally a Winchester on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/78191396
📃Master List of Fan Fiction: https://www.tumblr.com/iamgwinchester/812636749500137472/master-list
Summary: John Shen brings you a 48-ounce Dunkin' iced latte; fake marriage paperwork is discussed; and Jack Abbot discovers his girlfriend has a work husband.
Warnings: Established relationship, workplace teasing, jealous-but-not-really jealous Jack, Shen, and Reader being absolute menaces, fake marriage pact, excessive Dunkin, one deeply offensive sweet coffee beverage, no real angst.
Author’s Note: This is pure nonsense, and I love it. Jack is secure in his relationship, but unfortunately, his girlfriend and her work husband have paperwork, annual reviews, and a beverage vessel. Pray for him. Thank you @jennataurus for the idea!
Xoxo, Del
Jack saw Shen before he saw the drink. That was his first mistake. Shen walking into the emergency department was not unusual. Shen walking into the emergency department with that particular expression on his face was.
Too calm. Too neutral. Too deliberately innocent.
Jack narrowed his eyes from the other side of the nurses’ station.
Then he saw what Shen was carrying.
For one brief and terrible second, Jack thought it was medical equipment.
Then he saw the ice. Then he saw the straw.
Then he saw your face light up like Shen had walked in carrying a diamond ring, a rescue puppy, and a winning lottery ticket.
“Oh my god,” you said, already abandoning your chart. “You got it.”
Shen set the container on the counter with the solemn care of a man presenting evidence in court. “Blueberry Cobbler Iced Latte. Forty-eight ounces.”
You pressed both hands to your chest. “John.”
Jack looked at the bucket. Then he looked at Shen. Then he looked at you.
“No,” Jack said.
You turned toward him, smiling. “You don’t even know what this is.”
“I know enough,” Jack replied.
“It’s the bucket,” you said, like that explained anything.
“It is not a bucket,” Shen said.
Jack stared at him. “It absolutely is.”
“It’s a beverage vessel.” Shen corrected.
Jack stared at him. “It has a handle.”
“That doesn’t make it a bucket,” Shen grumbled.
You leaned over the counter and kissed Shen’s cheek. Jack went still. Shen went very still, too, but not because he was nervous.
No.
Because he knew.
Jack watched Shen’s mouth twitch once before he smoothed his expression back into something infuriatingly calm.
“Thank you,” you said sweetly.
Shen nodded. “Of course.”
Jack pointed between you and Shen. “Don’t love that.”
You blinked at him. “What?”
“The cheek kiss,” Jack answered.
Shen looked down at the drink. “It was a gratitude kiss.”
Jack’s eyes shifted to him. “Dunkin.”
Shen’s brows lifted. “Is that me?”
Jack nodded once, “It is now.”
You pressed your lips together. Jack knew that face. He loved that face. He also knew that face meant you were about thirty seconds away from making his life worse on purpose.
“Jack,” you said gently.
“No,” Jack said. “You don’t get to ‘Jack’ me when Dunkin just walked in with forty-eight ounces of sugar and got kissed for it.”
Shen glanced down at the container. “It does have two straws.”
“That makes it worse,” Jack replied.
You picked up one of the straws with reverent fingers. “It’s for sharing.”
“With your boyfriend?” Jack said, jerking his head in John’s direction.
You smiled. “With my work husband.”
Jack’s jaw tightened. There it was. Shen took one small, thoughtful step closer to you, like a man approaching a live wire just to see what would happen.
Jack watched him do it. He watched you notice. He watched both of you decide, silently and instantly, to be problems.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “Your what?”
“My work husband,” you said, very seriously.
Shen nodded once. “It’s an administrative title.”
“Administrative,” Jack repeated.
“Very little romance involved,” Shen said.
Jack stared at him. “Very little?”
You touched Jack’s chest. “Jack, be fair. John and I have survived a lot together.”
Jack looked between the two of you and inhaled slowly through his nose.
He was a grown man. A physician. A professional. He had handled trauma bays, impossible calls, mass casualties, and patients who thought WebMD had more authority than medical school. He was not going to let two adults and a container of dessert coffee dismantle him in the middle of his emergency department.
You slid the bucket toward Shen. “First sip goes to the provider.”
Jack’s head turned. “Provider?”
“He provided the bucket,” you said.
Shen took the straw with grave dignity. “I accept this responsibility.”
Jack watched him take a sip.
You leaned in, eyes bright. “Well?”
Shen considered it for a moment. “Sweet.”
You nodded. “Expected.”
“Artificial blueberry,” Shen said.
“But fun artificial?” You asked.
Shen took another sip. “Aggressively fun.”
You pointed at him. “That’s what I thought.”
Jack stared. “You haven’t even tasted it yet.”
You gave Jack a look, “I know John’s palate.”
Jack went still again.
Shen lowered the straw. “You walked into that one.”
“I did not walk into anything,” Jack said.
You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Are you jealous of John’s palate?”
“No,” Jack replied immediately.
Shen tilted his head. “He seems jealous of my palate.”
Jack pointed at him. “You are on thin ice.”
“Appropriate,” Shen said, glancing at the bucket. “Given the beverage.”
You made a sound like you were trying not to choke.
Jack looked down at you. “Do not laugh at that.”
You covered your mouth. “I’m not.”
“You are,” Jack said.
You pointed to Shen and said, “I’m being supportive of my work husband’s humor.”
Not yet, he told himself. It is too early in this shift to ask God for intervention.
When he opened them, you were holding the straw toward him.
“Try it,” you said.
Jack shook his head, “No.”
“One sip.” You implored.
Jack’s brow furrowed. “I already know I’m going to hate it.”
“That’s not very scientific,” Shen said.
Jack didn’t look away from you. “Dunkin, I am not discussing the scientific method with you over a bucket of sugar milk.”
You lifted the straw another inch. “For me?”
Jack looked at your face. That was unfair. Everything about your face was unfair. He sighed like a man accepting his own execution, leaned down, and took the smallest sip possible. His face changed immediately.
You brightened. “Well?”
Jack swallowed with effort. It was worse than he expected. It was sweet in a way that felt personally aggressive. It tasted like someone had taken a blueberry muffin, drowned it in melted ice cream, panicked, and added more sugar.
Jack looked at both of you. “Well, that’s horrific.”
You gasped. “Jack.”
Jack grimaced, “It tastes like someone liquefied a blueberry muffin, panicked, and added more sugar.”
Shen took the bucket back and considered that. “Not inaccurate.”
You pointed at him. “Do not side with my actual boyfriend against me.”
Jack’s head turned. Actual boyfriend. That helped. He hated that it helped.
He was not jealous of John Shen. He was not jealous of the drink. He was not jealous of the cheek kiss, the work husband title, or the fact that Shen apparently had a detailed working knowledge of your coffee preferences. Jack was simply opposed to nonsense.
That was all.
You smiled up at him. “Yes. Actual boyfriend.”
Shen lifted one hand. “Work husband acknowledges the hierarchy.”
Jack looked at him. “Temporary husband.”
Shen blinked. “I don’t remember agreeing to temporary.”
“You don’t need to agree,” Jack replied.
Shen frowned, “I feel like I should.”
“You shouldn’t,” Jack said.
You took the bucket back from Shen. “For legal accuracy, the arrangement is currently suspended.”
Jack looked down at you. “The arrangement.”
You nodded solemnly. “Until further notice.”
“Or forty,” Shen added.
Jack’s gaze moved slowly back to him. “Excuse me?”
Shen took a careful breath, like he was about to present lab results. “If neither of us is married by the time we are forty, we’ve agreed to enter a mutually beneficial domestic partnership.”
You nodded. “For practical reasons.”
Jack stared at you.
“Tax benefits,” you said.
“Shared expenses,” Shen added.
“Emergency contact efficiency,” you said.
“Mutual tolerance,” Shen added.
Jack looked between you. “You rehearsed that.”
You and Shen said, “No,” at the exact same time.
Jack’s eyes narrowed. You smiled. Shen sipped the drink.
Jack looked toward the ceiling.
Dear God, he thought, then stopped himself. Not yet. He could still handle this.
“You’re not single,” Jack said.
You patted his chest. “I know.”
“So the pact is void.” Jack continued.
Shen lifted one finger. “Suspended.”
Jack pointed at him. “Void.”
“Suspend—”
“Void.” Jack cut him off.
You sighed softly. “This is a difficult day for the marriage.”
Shen nodded. “We’ll need time to heal.”
Jack stared at the two of you. “Marriage.”
“Future potential marriage,” you clarified.
Jack frowned, “Not better.”
Ellis, who had been pretending not to listen from two feet away, slowly lowered her chart.
“Do I want to know?” Ellis asked.
“No,” Jack said.
“Yes,” you and Shen said together.
Jack looked down at you. You smiled up at him, bright and delighted and absolutely unrepentant.
Ellis’s eyes landed on the bucket. “Is that coffee?”
“Allegedly,” Jack said.
Shen lifted the container. “Blueberry Cobbler Iced Latte. Forty-eight ounces.”
Ellis blinked. “That sounds disgusting.”
Jack pointed at her. “Thank you.”
You gasped. “Ellis.”
Ellis glanced at Jack’s face, then at Shen, then at you. “Why does this feel like I walked in on something personal?”
“Because you did,” Jack said.
Shen shook his head. “It’s not personal. It’s a product review.”
Jack looked at him. “You announced a suspended marriage pact.”
Ellis looked delighted. “What else is in the paperwork?”
Jack pointed at her. “Do not encourage them.”
Shen cleared his throat. “There is the intimacy clause.”
Jack went completely still. Ellis’s chart lowered another inch.
“The what?” Jack asked.
“The intimacy clause,” you said, very seriously.
Shen nodded. “One night of passionate lovemaking per calendar year to maintain the marriage.”
Jack stared at him.
You nodded along solemnly. “For the health of the union.”
“And morale,” Shen added.
Jack’s head turned toward you. “Morale.”
“It’s important,” you said.
“Vital,” Shen agreed.
Jack pointed at the bucket. “Dunkin.”
Shen blinked. “Yes?”
“Never use the phrase ‘passionate lovemaking’ in a sentence about my girlfriend again.”
Shen considered him. “Would ‘annual intimacy maintenance’ be better?”
Jack looked at him, “No.”
You pressed your lips together. “Less romantic.”
Jack looked down at you. “You are not helping.”
“I’m grieving the clause,” you said.
Jack stared at you.
Ellis made a strangled sound behind her chart.
Shen took a slow sip from the bucket. “This is difficult for all parties.”
Jack closed his eyes. Dear God, grant me patience, Jack thought. Because if you grant me strength, Shen is not making it out of this emergency department.
Then Shen set the bucket down and hooked an arm around your shoulders. You did not miss a beat. You slid your arm around Shen’s waist and leaned into his side with a grave little nod. “Privacy would be appreciated during this difficult transition.”
Jack opened his eyes. Ellis’s mouth opened slightly.
Jack pointed between you and Shen. “Separate.”
You blinked at him. “What?”
“Immediately,” Jack said.
Shen looked down at you. "Our bond threatens him.”
“I am threatened by nothing,” Jack said.
You patted Shen’s stomach. “It’s okay. He’s processing.”
Jack’s jaw flexed. “You have three seconds.”
Shen’s arm stayed exactly where it was. “Before what?”
Jack smiled.
It was not a nice smile.
Shen removed his arm.
You removed yours too, biting your lip hard enough that Jack could see the fight not to laugh all over your face.
“Smart,” Jack said.
Shen picked up the bucket again. “For the record, that separation felt hostile.”
Jack looked at him. “Good.”
You let the moment hang for exactly one second. Then you slid right into Jack’s side, your body fitting against his like that was where you had meant to be the whole time.
Jack’s eyes dropped to you.
Your smile went soft and wicked at the same time. “Better?”
Jack held your gaze. He was still annoyed. He was still trying not to look pleased. He was still failing.
“Marginally,” he said.
You hummed and smoothed your hands over his scrub top. “Only marginally?”
His hand settled at your waist before he could pretend he wasn’t going to touch you. “You’re pushing it, sweetheart.”
You grinned. “Don’t worry, Jack. You’re hotter than him.”
Shen’s head lifted. “Rude.”
Jack didn’t look away from you. “Dunkin.”
“Yes?” Shen replied.
Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Drink your muffin soup.”
You laughed into Jack’s chest. His mouth twitched despite himself, and his hand tightened gently at your waist.
“Better,” he admitted, quieter this time.
Ellis finally gave up pretending she was working. “Can I try the divorce coffee?”
Jack’s eyes shifted to her. For the first time since Shen walked in, Jack looked almost pleased.
“Divorce coffee,” he repeated.
You brightened. “Oh, that’s good.”
Shen nodded. “Accurate, but emotionally painful.”
“It is not emotionally painful,” Jack said. “It’s legally clarifying.”
Ellis held out a hand. “So can I try it?”
“Don’t,” Jack warned.
“Yes,” you and Shen said together.
Jack looked down at you. You smiled up at him, bright and delighted. Jack looked at the bucket. Then at Shen. Then at you. Then he exhaled slowly through his nose.
“Okay,” Jack said.
You blinked. “Okay?”
Jack nodded toward the other end of the nurses’ station. “You’re coming with me.”
Your mouth fell open, offended and delighted at the same time. “What?”
“I have been very patient,” Jack said.
“You have,” you said solemnly.
He continued, “I tried the muffin soup.”
“You did.” You agreed.
“I tolerated the cheek kiss,” Jack added.
You nodded, “You did.”
“I tolerated the work husband,” Jack said, almost with a grimace.
“Barely,” Shen said.
Jack pointed at him without looking away from you. “Temporary husbands do not get commentary.”
Shen nodded. “Understood.”
Jack looked back at you. “And now I’m taking my girlfriend ten feet that way so I can remember why I love her without Shen making tax comments.”
You glanced back at Shen, then at the bucket in his hand. Your face went dramatically mournful.
“No,” you whispered. “My husband. My coffee.”
Jack went completely still. Ellis made a sound behind her chart.
Shen looked down at you with grave sympathy. “I’ll miss you.”
Jack’s head turned slowly toward him. “Dunkin.”
Shen lifted one hand. “Right. Sorry.”
You pressed your lips together, shoulders shaking.
Jack looked down at you. “You are walking away with me, or I am confiscating the coffee.”
Your eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”
“I absolutely would,” Jack replied.
You frowned, “You hate it.”
“I hate many things about this situation,” Jack said. “That has not stopped me yet.”
Shen hugged the bucket closer to his chest. “For the record, I object to seizure of communal property.”
“It is not communal property,” Jack said.
“It’s divorce coffee,” Ellis said.
Jack pointed at her. “Helpful.”
Ellis smiled. “Thank you.”
You slid your hand into Jack’s. “Fine. I’ll go.”
Jack’s fingers closed around yours. “Thank you.”
“But under protest.” You added.
Jack nodded once, “Noted.”
“And I want visitation rights.” You said.
Jack looked at you. “To Shen or the coffee?”
You looked genuinely torn. Jack’s eyes narrowed.
“The coffee,” you said quickly.
Shen nodded. “Hurtful, but wise.”
Jack tugged gently on your hand. “Move.”
You let Jack lead you away, still laughing under your breath. Halfway down the nurses’ station, you glanced back over your shoulder.
Shen mouthed, I miss you.
You coughed to hide your laugh.
Jack stopped walking. You froze.
He looked down at you. “What did he do?”
You replied quickly. “Nothing.”
Jack turned. Shen looked immediately busy with a chart, one hand still wrapped around the bucket.
Jack narrowed his eyes. “Dunkin.”
Shen did not look up. “Yes?”
“Do not make me come back there.”
Shen nodded, still not looking up. “Of course.”
Jack stared for another second, then turned back to you. You smiled up at him, innocent and hopelessly pleased. Jack shook his head, but his hand squeezed yours.
“You’re trouble,” he said.
Your smile brightened. “You love me.”
“I do,” Jack said.
You stepped closer, sliding your free hand up his chest again. “And I love you.”
Jack’s irritation loosened instantly. He hated how fast it happened.
No, he didn’t.
He loved it. Loved the way you could tug him out of himself with three words and one hand on his chest. Loved the way you smiled at him like he was exactly where you wanted to be, like Shen and the coffee and every ridiculous thing you had said were only funny because Jack was there to react to them.
“Even if John brings me forty-eight ounces of coffee,” you said.
Jack’s mouth twitched.
“Even if he’s my work husband.” You continued.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Former work husband,” you corrected.
Jack nodded once, “Better.”
You smiled and rose onto your toes, brushing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re my actual everything.”
Jack went very still.
Behind you, Shen called, “Rude.”
Jack didn’t look away from you. For once, he didn’t even answer Shen. His hand slid more firmly around your waist, and his voice dropped low enough that only you could hear it.
“Yeah?”
You nodded, still smiling. “Yeah.”
Jack’s expression softened completely. Then he dipped his head and kissed you, quick but warm, like he couldn’t help it. When he pulled back, he looked almost annoyed with himself for melting so fast.
You grinned. “Better?”
Jack exhaled, thumb brushing once at your waist. “Much better,” he said.
Oh, Del, this was sooooo good. I fear rage-baiting Jack was much more entertaining than I thought it would be. Truly, it was sweeter than the god-forsaken coffee.
You leaned over the counter and kissed Shen's cheek. Jack went still. Shen went very still, too, but not because he was nervous.
buckle up everyone, the show is startingggggg
Jack pointed between you and Shen. "Don't love that."
Something about him being so calm and speaking so simply while letting the jealousy peak through is so funny to me.
Jack's eyes shifted to him. "Dunkin."
The fact that Shen gets a nickname as retaliation for making Jack jealous is too entertaining. We're just at the beginning, and I'm already feeling giddy.
Jack knew that face. He loved that face. HE also knew htat face meant you were about thirty seconds away from making his life worse on purpose.
Oh he's down BAD
And I love it!!!! I would expect nothing less from our man
You smiled. "With my work husband."
Shen took one small, thoughtful step closer to you, like a man approaching a live wire just to see what would happen.
I loved the dynamic you built between the reader and Shen here. Shen locked in quick. Just two platonically married besties in cahoots, it was perfect.
Reader and Shen telepathically when they have a chance to rage-bait Jack:
Jack stared at him. "Very little?"
I loved this moment, considering Shen could've said "No romance involved," but no one can convince me that Shen didn't know exactly what he was doing.
Jack's head turned. "Provider?"
Jack Abbot is a man who prides himself on being your provider, so I just know this irked him.
You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Are you jealous of John's palate?"
it's simply too fun to tease him.
That was unfair. Everything about your face was unfair.
☺️ idk what you're talking about. I am perfectly innocent
He was not jealous of the cheek kiss, the work husband title, or the fact that Shen apparently had a detailed working knowledge of your coffee preferences.
ok honey, sure.
You took the bucket back from Shen. "For legal accuracy, the arrangement is currently suspended."
You nodded solemnly. "Until further notice."
"Or forty," Shen added.
ohhh he is looking for trouble and it is fantastic
it's like we mind-melded for the sake of teasing Jack and it's wonderful
You sighed softly. "This is a difficult day for the marriage."
Shen nodded. "We'll need time to heal."
I loved them. Truly, you built a great dynamic here.
"The intimacy clause," you said, very seriously.
Shen nodded. "One night of passionate lovemaking per calendar year to maintain the marriage."
I couldn't stop smiling at this bc I was at work and, unfortunately, laughing at fanfiction is frowned upon.
Jack when hearing the terms of your marriage agreement:
Dear God, grant me patience, Jack thought.
The lead-up to the prayer was fantastic, by the way. The first time when he says it's too early, then when he tries but decides to save it for later? loved it
Because if you grant me strength, Shen is not making it out of this emergency department.
This was soooo good. First of all, it's really funny. But also, it's unfairly attractive to think of Jack being so jealous and possessive over me.
You slid your arm around Shen's waist and leaned into his side with a grave little nod. "Privacy would be appreciated during this difficult transition."
Jack pointed between you and Shen. "Separate."
It's genuinely unfair and maybe a little concerning that I find this attractive.
"I have been very patient," Jack said.
He continued, "I tried the mufin soup."
"I tolerated the cheek kiss," Jack added.
"I tolerated the work husband," Jack said, almost with a grimace.
Jack looked back at you, "And now I'm taking my girlfriend ten feet that way so I can remember why I love her without Shen making tax comments."
kicking my feet and giggling fr
"No," you whispered. "My husband. My coffee."
Shen looked down at you with grave sympathy. "I'll miss you."
They're too funny, your honor. I know this is pure silliness, but it's also just so perfect.
Jack knowing he's doomed todeal with these shannaigans for the rest of his life (bc you are his life):
He loved it. Loved the way you could tug him out of himself with three words and one hand on his chest. Loved the way you smiled at him like he was exactly where you wanted to be, like Shen and the coffee and every ridiculous thing you had said were only funny because Jack was there to react to them.
You smiled and rose onto your toes, brushing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You're my actual everything."
ugh they're just so cute
Behind you, Shen called, "Rude."
I know we were just having a moment with Jack, but this was so funny and perfectly placed.
Then he dipped his head and kissed you, quick but warm, like he couldn't help it.
This man will need many kisses for what we made him deal with. And I will gladly give them to him 🙂↕️
I had a fun idea about watching grey's with jack and then it never left my brain
author's note: I wrote so much that I decided I needed to break this into parts. I got fixated on making sure my comments were aligned with the episode order, so it looks like I'll be making a part for every season 😅
I hope you enjoy my run-on sentences and disregard for consistent grammar 🫶
word count: 1.3k (I told you it got long. PLUS I cut things out!)
For the sake of these ramblings/headcanons, I'm writing through the lens that the show wouldn't be too triggering for Jack. I know many people who get emotional over Grey’s, and I know several people who work in the medical field and spend most of their time scoffing at the drama and correcting the medicine (despite being fully invested).
My point is that the audience has diverse reactions, and Jack, being someone with trauma and working in the medical field, doesn’t mean that this show would be a huge trigger for him.
That being said, my characterization of Jack does recognize that there will probably be some episodes/scenes where he needs comforting, reassurance, or just needs to be skipped entirely for his mental health.
starting the show...
☆ you could be be watching it already and invite him. when he agrees, you restart from the first episode.
☆ or you're just scrolling looking for something to watch and figure you could restart the show. it's a decent show that you could either focus on or just use as background noise since you'd be re-watching it.
☆ he's either apprehensive or passive when you first start/bring up the show
on one hand…
☆ it may not be something he really wants to do bc he spends almost all of his time either in the E.D. or treating the SWAT team in the field. he's not exactly yearning to bring those negative feelings or his baggage into his home or his sacred time with you
(that being said, the drama of grey's is nothing like what he experiences–it's more personal and romantic drama. don't get me wrong, there is definitely sadness, but it's different than what he experiences)
☆ plus, he did become a doctor for a reason. he likes (at least parts of) his job, being with the rest of the E.D. team, and practicing medicine. It's not like he's going to a job that he hates with his whole being–I view it more as he practices medicine but still struggles with his personal and professional grief. He is aware of these thoughts, though. We love our emotionally intelligent therapy attending man.
☆ but yes, medical worker fatigue and burnout is 100% real (it's borderline robby's whole story), and jack faces chaotic days, hard patients, and death all the time.
I'm mainly just saying this bc i don't want my characterization of Jack to make it seem like he absolutely hates working at the hospital.
on the other hand (finally got there, i know)…
☆ he might be passive or willing to watch it bc he knows these shows are focused on drama more than actual medicine. he knows they’re filled with medical inaccuracies and messy drama, so it could actually be kind of entertaining. he knows that the drama is different than his daily chaos.
☆ (depending on how you characterize jack/view his mental health) he might even think the show could be entertaining bc no matter how badly these people mess up, the patient will either make a lucky recovery or the person who dies wasn’t an actual–like his patients
✩ so long story short, whether or not he's apprehensive or passive before getting drawn in is your call
when you actually start watching…
☆ no matter what, since this is a show that you like, he’s going to sit through it
☆ eventually he gets invested bc how can you not?? (seriously, i have mixed feelings about this show but sometimes it feels like you can’t stop)
✩ however he initially felt about watching the show, it's hard for him to turn his brain off at first. he wants to correct or explain things, but you're there to soothe him and tell him to just be quiet and enjoy. eventually, he would enjoy and successfully turn his brain off
✩ plus, it's like i said, any time with you is sacred. it becomes a show you guys share together.
☆ (it’s not the first, one of many actually. he dealt with the weekly release of the summer i turned pretty season 3 for you).
☆ (you weren’t dating during the previous 2 seasons so he would just listen to you ramble on about context from previous episodes or your analysis on how something from this episode was actually connected to something else).
✩ also, i feel like this would give him an opportunity to poke fun at or make cheeky comments about surgeons
☆ he's such a diva when it comes to watching television. mostly bc he feels so safe and comfortable when he's with you
☆ he doesn't do it constantly, but he does gasp occasionally or comment as if the characters can here him.
if you work under or report to him…
☆ When he comments on how Derrick really shouldn't be going after Meredith, and it's clearly an hr violation, you would have to just look at him like, "You realize that you're a hypocrite, right?" and he would just be like, "Yeah, but we don't count. We reported it to HR. plus we're like, soulmates, so it's different."
☆ You would just have to sit there, either smiling bc ofc he would say something like that, or in shock bc how the hell did he just say that so casually???
☆ I like to think that he would have more issues with Burke bc he pursued Christina when she was actively an intern under him, and even though Derrick also went after Meredith, at least he met her before he knew
☆ I feel like part of him would feel icky for relating to Derrick, bc he hates to think that he caused you any problems, stress, or hurt when he was yearning for you.
☆ Even if you're just joking and say, "Well, you were my attending," he would get just a little sad or offended, but he knows what you have is different.
☆ he avoided his feelings for a long time. one of his many reasons was the power imbalance. he isn’t the kind of man who just forgets something like that because of his feelings, no matter how strong they are. he may want to, but he cares too much about you to not worry about the consequences or how it could affect you
☆ when you finally got together, you talked and set boundaries and went to hr when it was time
if you work somewhere else or have no issues with a power imbalance…
☆ He smiles while watching and asks, "Aren't you grateful that we don't have to deal with that?”
☆ “But,” he pauses and looks at you, "I would brave the hr/admin meetings for you. You know that, right?"
☆ He laughs when you ask, "So, are people just making out and hooking up all over the PTMC?"
☆ "Why do you want to?" (with the classic Jack Abbott flirty-smirk ofc)
character thoughts (these will be brief bc I will mention specific moments in later parts of this collection)
(yes, yes I am projecting all most of my grey's opinions on this man)
☆ i like to think that he just has an intuition about george.
☆ Yeah he's a "nice guy" but he knows it's more of the "nice guy trope" than him genuinely being kind.
☆ He'd be suspicious, but when George does something good. "Ok, whatever, I'll give him that, but I'm still weirded out by him" (this is, in fact, what I say to my friends when a guy gives me a weird vibe)
☆ He would like Meredith and appreciate Christina's sarcastic tendencies
☆ Do you think Jack had a “living in the woods” phase? I honestly can’t decide (This is going to be a multi-part collection of my thoughts, so your opinion is genuinely appreciated)
☆ He really likes Bailey, obviously. She’s a badass surgeon who isn’t afraid to speak out when needed, stern but a good teacher, and respects nurses. He hates her nickname, though.
☆ Addison is honestly a complex character in my mind, so I can see him actually liking her as the show progresses.
☆ Adele is so great. I think he would really like her and hate how Richard treats her.
☆ So many people have commented on how he is who Owen Hunt thinks he is, and I cannot agree more. Jack Abbot would despise Owen, and no one can convince me otherwise.
These are quick thoughts, but I will be mentioning other characters in later parts. If you have anyone specific in mind, let me know!!!
SUMMARY: You don't hear from Jack for three days after the kiss. But despite being swamped at the hospital, after he reaches out via text, he doesn't stop.
WARNINGS: flirting, mentions of Tom, rimjob discussion (don't ask just read), light talks of anxiety, some swearing
A/N: okay this is kinda like a little filler part of the series, helps with background for part five and also I just feel like it's cute to see them conversing through texts too!! Not only that but I'm aware of how long the chapters for the series are so I thought it would be fun to give you a bit of a breather from my rambling before the next part LOL
PAIRING: Jack Abbot x Single Mom!Reader
PREV. PART — SERIES MASTERLIST
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
SERIES MASTERLIST — NEXT PART
Tag list for this series has grown way too big for me to keep up with so it’s unfortunately CLOSED. You can however follow the #apt.17 tag instead for updates on the series!
Okay, obviously this chapter is very different from the others, it's mainly just a little filler part to break up how bulky the series has become (word count wise) but I also thought it would be so fun to see what' going on in between part 4 and 5!!
Thank you very much for reading! Feedback really means a lot so I would love to hear your thoughts and ideas for where you think this will go!! Reblogs helps to boost stuff for more people to reach so if you enjoyed it please consider reblogging!!
I swear, initially, I was just going to comment, but there was just so much that I wanted to say. Also, I desperately need more cutesy and wholesome reaction pics/stickers, so if anyone sees this, please share.
It's been a long time since a text-fic has made me blush. This was just too good.
edit: apparently this has been stuck in my drafts 😅 lol thank god I found it bc I love doing these reblogs. Everyone, say thank you to your fanfic writers today!! They deserve all the love and more.
good morning to the beautiful girls in apartment seventeen
see, i knew that he would be saying something like this eventually, but I honestly thought you were going to make me wait much longer. BUT I LOVED IT. I think it's actually so fitting that he's instantly this commited.
jack abbot would be the kind of man to be so deeply commited
he clearly cares about you and pheebs
so it fits with his characterization and the narrative
this is sally
HE HAS A CAT?? AND HER NAME IS SALLY?? love.
you'll get used to it
they're both so cheeky and it's fantastic
asking for the phone call/face time
it happened so much and I didn't have a particular line that I liked more than the others, so I'm reacting to the general concept
it's just so chivalrous and i love it. and the fact that it comes from both of them? phenomenal
in case you miss the sunrise this morning
it is absolutely criminal that this is giving me butterflies. like, i'm blushing and it's embarrassing
tom cancelled on her again
broke my heart. but there's also something so beautiful about how these texts show that jack abbot is a man who cares and will show up in any way he knows how.
send me pics. miss your faces
i'm going to burst into a pile of hearts and glitter.
told you, all hours of the day
The fact that he talks about his coworkers is such a beautiful demonstration of demosticity between him and the reader.
that's two patients i've seen tonight reading your books
I loved this moment
Maybe ask Tom
IM DEADDDDDD
Also, being asked how something feels is 100% just the price you pay for dating a writer.
Thanks beautiful
I'm blushing like crazy rn
is it too forward to admit that I am? And that I seem to think about you a bit too much?
can I just say, you capture his voice so well
I'd say it's a little more than a "crush," if it's not too forward to say that
he's such a gentleman 🤭
seriously, this was just sooooo good. I loved every bit.
♡ synopsis: when dr. park is called down to the ed for a consult, jack's jealousy is riled when he gets a little too familiar with you, & you're then made to spend the rest of the evening reassuring him that you belong to one man only.
♡ content: park gets flirty, jack is jelly, pining!robby, medical inaccuracies, p in v sex, fluff, reader gets some hickeys
♡ a/n: based on these requests, ty!
"What're we lookin' at, angel?" utters Dr. Park when he enters the trauma bay you and a small team of others are currently assigned to. Though, you imagine for not much longer once Brendon has the patient escorted upstairs when he takes over the case.
You make to explain, until Santos, who's just at the end of her shift, but still wanted to see gnarly, exposed bone before she took off, interrupts. "Angel?" she asks suspiciously.
Brendon levels her with his famous, phlegmatic tone. "As in angelfish," he sneers.
She nods with pursed lips and raised brows, as if to silently say Alrighty then.
Tugging at the hem of your scrub shirt, Jack pulls you to the other side of him and places himself between the two of you with crossed arms as he answers all of Park's questions. Though, his inquisition turns more into grilling when his tone suddenly changes shape into that of utter stoicism which borders on downright unfriendly.
Not unusual for him, but there was a reason you had been asked to be present when he came down: you're one of very few in this hospital that a man as hard and daunting as he has a soft spot for.
Before your choosing to practice medicine, you started out your career as his receptionist upstairs. It being one of your first ever jobs, you had wanted to make a good impression, so you constantly strived to meet his needs before he even gave you orders to schedule this, or check on that, or contact so and so about such and such. Didn't take terribly long before you could read his mind by simply reading his chiseled face.
Your first day in his office started with you handing out cookies and fudge and earning a judgmental glare, but ended with him muttering a quick 'See you tomorrow' as he headed out the door.
You had deemed that a good sign that you weren't fired yet, even if he had scoffed at your cutesy stationary and glittery lanyard.
The job had initially felt a tad demeaning, though, in truth: fetching him coffee and lunch from across the street, or scheduling his haircuts and dentist appointments... Until he went from handing you cash to his black card instead once you earned his trust, and told you to 'get yourself something nice' with a wink whenever you ran his errands thereafter.
When he caught you looking at med school applications on your work desktop a handful of months later, you'd panicked and flew into a fit of apologies for using a work device for personal reasons, until he settled a large palm atop your shoulder and told you that he'd write you a glowing letter of recommendation if you were truly serious about it.
Now that he's lost you to Abbot and the ED, however, he wonders if he made the right choice. He takes little shame in being selfish to get what he wants, but he found himself unable to do so when it came to you.
Just can't help but wonder at times why ortho wasn't your chosen specialty, since he likes to believe that working under him played into your decision to go to med school. That he made that much of a positive impression.
Too bad he never got a chance to make another... Like a swollen belly and a ring wrapped round your finger to show that he had finally made a catch of his very own.
Once the patient is prepped for transport, Park nearly shoulder-checks Jack to get around him and to you before giving your waist a gentle squeeze and a murmured 'Come and see me again some time. New one just doesn't know me like you did', to which you force a nod and a feigned smile of agreement while standing back so the gurney can be taken on its way elsewhere.
When you glanced to Jack, he granted you an uneasy look before moving onto the next case which he insisted you join him on.
"Now, grab an 11 blade and I'll guide you through how to do an incision for a pleural effusion."
You turn to head in the direction of the supply cart, until Toomarian reaches you first with the required surgical tool, which you take with a quiet, grateful thanks.
Bending over the patient again, Jack keeps a steady hand against the middle of your back while his other gestures horizontally the way you need to cut. "Fifth intercostal space," Jack drawls close to your ear. "Posteriorly. Good, good."
Once fluid begins to successfully drain, you glance to him with searching eyes for what you should do next.
He's been very attentive this shift. More so than usual, which is remarkable given that Jack tends to keep you with him for at least half his cases anyway. You don't complain, though, as you're always grateful for not only the education and training, but the attention.
Greedy thing that you can tend to be when it comes to the likes of him, getting it at home clearly isn't enough for you, because seeing him in action is so much more attractive.
"Maybe I should come up with a nickname for you," Jack mumbles while studying a perfusion scan from over your shoulder.
"What?" you ask dumbly while slightly turning your head back to him in confusion.
"Angel," he jeers. "I'm sure I could do better than a damn fish."
You snort while scrolling. "You're joking, right?"
"Something different than just honey, sweetheart, baby doll..."
You sigh and shake your head. "Jack, I share your house and let you between my legs every day. You have no reason to be jealous of a silly little nickname."
"Maybe pumpkin," he grumbles while walking away, as if he didn't hear you.
Handing Jack a protein shake fresh from the fridge, he takes it from you with a peck on the lips and quiet "Thank you, sugar."
You raise a brow while fighting off a smirk that's threatening to overtake your features.
Untwisting the cap, his lips tug into a frown. "No, only sounds about half right," he remarks before taking a swig. Returning the cap to the open bottle neck, he squeezes your cheeks between his fingers—causing your lips to pucker.
You know that making a fish joke right now will only set him off further.
"Just remember whose resident you are, alright?"
You blink. "Okur," you murmur through pouty lips.
He releases you. "Might not have been mine first, but you are now," he states while diving in for a kiss.
Just to finish things up, you and Jack end up hanging around the ED for another hour while dayshift begins to file in, including their own attending who finds you before long for a curious conversation.
"Any reason he's such a miserable bastard this morning? Rough night, or did you two have your first fight?"
Tucking unused supplies back into a storage cabinet, you glimpse at Robby. "Huh?"
"Abbot," he explains with crossed arms. "I don't think I've ever seen that man pout, but when I mentioned that I was looking for some follow-up results from ortho, it's like his mood shifted in a completely different direction."
You roll your eyes upward. "I thought he was over it."
"Park do something?"
You press the cabinet shut, then slide your hands into the roomy pockets of your pants. "Around the beginning of my shift, he was called down for a consult. He called me an old nickname, and for whatever reason, it seems like it's really gotten under Jack's skin. It's stupid."
Robby grins slyly and studies you with an affectionate gaze.
"What?" you ask with furrowed brows.
Robby shrugs slightly. "It's not exactly a hidden secret that Park is fond of you. That the two of you have history."
Unfurling, a brow is instead raised in question. "I was his receptionist. That's it..."
He shakes his head. "The few times I've seen him around you down here, it seemed like something more to me. At least on his end. But I guess it's not surprising that you've failed to notice."
These men and making mountains out of molehills...
"You have no idea," he says quietly. "What it feels like to be in love with you. The kind of jealousy that it can stir up."
Like a fish gasping for air, you open and close your mouth a few times before finally shutting it entirely.
"Just let him take you home," he says while grabbing a pair of nitrile gloves. "And remind him that you're his and his alone."
He gives you a peck on the top of the head. "It's what I'd want if I were in his shoes and thought another man was encroaching on what's mine."
He's very quiet on the ride home. Constantly shifting in his seat, you watch from the corner of your eye as Jack runs a hand through his hair, then rests his forearm against the window to his left before placing his palm atop the wheel.
"You okay?" you ask quietly.
He nods while remaining frontward facing.
"You seem sorta upset."
He sighs. "I'm fine. Just tired."
You chew your lip. "Are you mad at me?"
He shakes his head, then switches on the radio to a country station. "Everything's fine."
"I just don't get," Jack grunts while pulling off his prosthetic. "Why, after all this time, he's still calling you that."
You drop your badge onto the dresser and exhale silently. "If you let on that it bothers you, he's just going to keep doing it."
"It should bother you," he complains lowly. "My damn girl."
Your lips tilt into a smile, but you make sure not to let him see it: that you find his jealousy to be entertaining. "C'mon," you say while padding around the bed and grabbing a crutch before extending it toward him. "Let's take a shower together."
"Sure you don't want a bath so that you can swim around a bit?" he asks snidely.
You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at him.
Pushing off the bed, he throws an arm over the offered crutch. "Alright, that was petty of me."
You wait for him to go around you before you slap his ass hard enough to make your palm sting.
"Hey! Behave yourself back there, young lady."
You pinch it next. "No, thanks, old man."
Giving Jack head in the shower didn't exactly go as planned. Due to how long it took to help him develop an erection without the aid of medication, the water was cold by the time he was finally there.
So now he's tired, horny, and irritated. And above all, absolutely a pouty puss.
Dinner is eaten in silence, but at least he finishes the meal you place before him. While he's busying himself with cleaning up the kitchen, you scamper off to the bedroom to throw on a thin piece of lingerie that's seen minimal use since its purchase some time ago, and you wait in a staged, sultry pose upon the bed for him.
And when he pulls back the door, he turns right back around to go get his Viagra with a shit-eating grin on his face.
You're absolutely soaked and throbbing between your legs where he has his cock bottomed-out against you.
Sucking on the tender skin of your neck, Jack's full weight is lain atop your body while he gently rocks his hips against yours.
"Ah, ah, please," you pant needily with arms wrapped around his neck and legs thrown over the backs of his thighs.
Releasing your carotid with a pop, he licks his way to the other side to get to work there next. "That feel good, pumpkin?"
He nibbles on your chin, then kisses your neck again. "Hm, sugar?"
Oh, not the names again...
You know what? Whatever, you're not complaining.
"Talk to me, baby doll."
You nod while sinking your fingers into his sweaty grey curls. "S-So good. Can't get enough."
He withdraws until just his bulbous tip remains against your soaking entrance, then slams back in in one brutal thrust that causes you to cry out his name in ecstasy.
"That's my girl," he purrs. "Enjoy my cock, baby." he leans back and brushes sweat from your brow with his palm. "Because I'm definitely enjoying the pussy that belongs to me."
You squeeze around him and he dips his head to suck on the hollow of your throat.
"Think I might finally have a name for you," he murmurs while gently nipping at your breasts.
"O-Oh?" you sigh.
Bracketing his arms on either side of your head, he leans in close to the shell of your ear. "Mrs. Abbot," he growls.
Your walls flutter around his swollen cock.
"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" he mutters before sucking on your chin.
You nod slowly; noting how lightheaded you feel. "Yes," you whimper.
"So that's a yes? You'll marry me?" Jack bites your earlobe. "Take my name so everybody knows whose property you are?"
God, he's never been so possessive before, even in bed.
You very much like this side of him.
"Really?" you whine in disbelief while opening blurry eyes and gazing up at him.
"Really," he confirms while thrusting his hips against yours. "Awful romantic of me to ask while we're making love, huh?"
You grin with an adorably scrunched-up nose before agreeing wholeheartedly between excited giggles.
"Oh yeah," he says while roaming your soft, naked body with calloused hands. "All of this is mine."
"Jack, what the hell did you do?!" you cry incredulously from the bathroom.
Utterly sated and content, he remains lying back in bed while thumbing through an old western novel without granting a reply.
Roaming your naked skin with a tender palm, you press gingerly against the numerous hickeys that litter your body with hesitant fingertips.
They're absolutely everywhere—your neck, your chin, your breasts, your clavicle. Jack has covered you in signs of him wherever he could reach that would be visible.
Stomping back into the bedroom, you fill with fury at the sight of the lazy grin that's plastered on his smug face. "I can't go to work like this!" you shout. "It's almost July, Jack, so I can't exactly wear a turtleneck to hide these!"
He shrugs while flashing a toothy smirk. "Had to mark you as mine somehow." He settles the novel atop his bare chest. "Which reminds me." He nods toward your shared closet while maneuvering over the edge of the bed. "Your engagement ring is in there."
You throw your head back and groan in irritation... But your anger is soon supplanted by happy tears and a full heart as he retrieves the gleaming piece of jewelry before seating himself on the bed again and asking you with a practiced speech if you'll be his forever.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me, man," Robby says, nearly doubled-over with laughter as you march past with a huff to reach your locker.
You grit your teeth at the sound of him howling behind you.
"You were that jealous over a dumb little nickname?" he cries.
Jack shrugs while tossing down his backpack. "You got any cases I could page him down here for before you take off?"
Robby swipes tears from his cheeks while smiling broadly. "I think I might have one."
i keep coming back to this fic bc it's just sooooo good. the lore that you've built?? and the character dynamics?? it's all so fantastic.
as in angelfish
First of all, this nickname was such a genius move. bc it can be shortened to angel, which clearly leads to the whole jealousy storyline, but it's also just toeing the line of an innocent nickname since he's park the shark and reader used to be his receptionist.
even if he had scoffed at your cutesy stationary and glittery lanyard
whimsy must be brought into the workplace 🙂↕️
until he went from handing you cash to his black card instead once you earned his trust, and told you to 'get yourself something nice' with a wink whenever you ran his errands thereafter.
ngl babe, I fully thought this was an innocent moment. no flirtation, just a genuine demonstration of trust and nothing behind it. I'm simply that oblivious bc...
Too bad he never got a chance to make another...Like a swollen belly and a ring wrapped round your finger to show that he had finally made a catch of his very own
ANN
truly i had no words, I fully looked like this^^
I'm sure I could do better than a damn fish
I love the way you wrote jealous!Jack. The fact that it's about what Park does and he doesn't explode over it in a toxic way 🤌
"Maybe pumpkin," he grumbles while walking away, as if he didn't hear you.
This was honestly just so entertaining to me. The way that he fixates on it, but again, not in a concerning way. It was perfect for creating tension in the story without making either character seem toxic. I also really vibe with this characterization of Jack.
Also, his little grumblings and comments gave me butterflies ngl. I just wanted to kiss the pout off his face.
No, only sounds about half right
I love this silly man too much. And somehow this made him more charming.
"Might not have been mine first, but you are now," he states while diving in for a kiss.
"You have no idea," he says quietly. "What it feels like to be in love with you. The kind of jealousy that it can stir up."
ANN!!!!
what am i supposed to do with this????!!! 😳😮 I too was sitting here like a gaping fish
The lore you just keep dropping?? dear lord. also, comparing the reader to a fish when they have a fish-based nickname? perfect.
(I'm not complaining, this is lowkey an opportunity for me to finally use this pic lol) It's not that want anyone but Jack, but hon the world and longing that your building?? I'm sat.
I simply am that bitch, everyone in this damn hospital wants me 🤪
"It should bother you," he complains lowly. "My damn girl."
hell yeah I am
"Sure you don't want a bath so that you can swim around a bit?" he asks snidely.
Alright, that was petty of me
Again, I have to applaud your characterization of him in this. It was perfect. He was jealous and possessive, and he had a right to those feelings, but I didn't feel like he was controlling my life or telling me what I could or couldn't do.
throw on a thin piece of lingerie that's seen minimal use since its purchase some time ago, and you wait in a staged, sultry pose upon the bed for him
that feel good, pumpkin?
hm, sugar?
talk to me, baby doll
it's ridiculous that i found this hot but this mannnnnn
Mrs. Abbot
THIS HAD NO RIGHT MAKING ME FEEL THE WAY IT DID
You got any cases I could page him down here for before you take off?
he's so cheeky and unfortunately it makes me love him more
I've gotten 2 pope core videos that are just him being cute and animal kingdom is really not a show that i would watch but omgggg he's so cute (spiritually and physically) and i just want to have his children like ahhhhh
this has inspired dad!Pope headcanons, BFF, so thank you ily <333
cw: DILFism, girl dad!Pope, some suggestive vibes, allusion to breeding kink, description of little kid injuries, and me doing head canons for the first time so idk if it's right or not but hi I hope someone enjoys this
wc: 1,400 ish
-When the first baby is born, he's scared to hold her b/c of how BIG those muscles are.
-You tell him, "Your muscles are not going to crush the baby. Just hold her; it's fine. Take your shirt off and do skin to skin with your daughter, Andrew."
-And when he finally sits down in the chair beside your hospital bed and lets the nurse hand him the baby, and he's chest to chest with his daughter for the first time, he feels like a weight's been lifted even though seven or eight pounds just got placed on his chest.
-He definitely cries (like when you started showing and when the baby kicked for the first time), and he just stares at his daughter and thinks, "How could I have any part in something this perfect?"
-He'll look at you and just whisper a simple "thank you" because what else is there to say when he's got the world's most perfect baby on his chest?
-When it's time to leave the hospital, he'll keep looking over his shoulder at you while the nurse wheels you out, but you're just focused on how HOT he looks walking out with the baby in her car seat as you find out the "hot dad walk" is truly NOT a myth.
-At home, he's very determined to get the baby on a schedule, for three reasons: his sanity, he read children thrive on routine, and he wants to maximize the amount of sleep you get as you recover.
-He insists on changing all the diapers to "pay you back for the pregnancy."
-He gives the baby her first bottle after you've pumped enough and he's ecstatic that he can be part of feeding the baby and sustaining her life.
-When the baby's about to start crawling, he's torn between setting his phone up to record and being in the moment, but the baby decides for him and starts crawling toward the two of you faster than anticipated.
-Both of you smile and cheer her on and just eat her cute, gummy smiles the fuck up.
-Even though she can crawl, he still lovessssss to hold her. he loves holding her while the two of you make dinner, walking through the house, at the grocery store (even though you bought a fabric cover for the cart's baby seat AND you could bring her car seat inside), and in bed.
-He loves when she wakes up a little early, and he can just take her to the bedroom where you're still asleep and hold her in his arms (that he's still scared could crush her one day) and smile at her and kiss her and let her poke his nose while they wait for you to wake up.
-When she starts walking, you already set your phone up on the coffee table, so he's glad he can relive the moment, but nothing will ever beat the feeling of watching his baby smile at him and walk directly toward him and fall into his arms when she reaches him because she knows he'll always be there to catch her.
-The first baby was unplanned. You and Pope weren't even really together when you got pregnant, but he quickly bought a house for you to raise your family in, even marrying you in a courthouse the week before the baby was born.
-None of it was planned, and Pope didn't have a ton of time to ruminate on it the way he usually does with big things like this. he was just acting, never thinking too much about how he felt about it. All he knew was that he did love you and care for you, and he wanted to give this little miracle baby, no one ever thought he deserved, the best life possible.
-So when the baby turns one, and he's cried all the tears about it that his body will allow, and she's asleep in her room, and you sit on his lap in the middle of the bed, whispering, "I want another one," in his ear, he finally takes a moment to think about all this.
-Most sex before you was just a quick release. Usually no talking, and certainly no wishes or begs to be filled or to let him fill anyone up.
-So now he really thinks about it, reflecting on your pregnancy and what it meant for you to carry a piece of him inside of you. The piece of him that was good and innocent and able to stand a chance in this world because his baby's mother is an angel on earth and you looked so pretty, all round and ripe with life, and his daughter looks at you and him like you went on a two-person mission to hang the moon for her just how she likes it.
-His daughter is only the best parts of him and so much of you, and if the world can get more of that, if Andrew Cody can get more of that, then he wants that.
-So he nods his head and whispers every filthy phrase he's thought of but never thought he was allowed to say.
-And when his second daughter is born, it's like rinse and repeat.
-Except there's a two-year-old in his arms when he walks into your recovery room with a bouquet of flowers this time, and he and you want to make sure she understands that Mommy and Daddy still love her very much even though there's a baby in the bassinet next to Mommy's bed.
-Andrew holds his oldest in his lap on the couch at home while you feed the baby, and he demonstrates for her what "gentle touching" is as he softly caresses the baby's cheek with his thumb.
-When the toddler gently pets her baby sister's cheek, you and Andrew smile and praise how gentle and sweet he is.
-As the girls grow up, they become more active, and with that comes a bunch of booboos that need kissing.
-You were both watching your now five-year-old when she went tumbling down from her bicycle. There wasn't anything you could do; you were too far, and the rock blended in perfectly with the asphalt.
-She cries and holds onto you as Andrew picks the bike up and carries it into the garage.
-He meets you in the kitchen where you have his oldest on the counter, tears streaming down her face while you clean her cuts.
-He's at her side immediately, a hand on her back, the other holding her tiny little hand while you get the last specks of dirt out of her cuts and apply the disinfectant and Band-Aids.
-Both Mommy and Daddy kiss her booboos, and Andrew holds his baby girl in his arms and carries her to the couch while you put the first aid away. He kisses her head and puts on her favorite movie to take her mind off her owies.
-After the youngest wakes up from her nap, you carry her into the living room to join Daddy and big sister.
-The girls join hands, and baby sister kisses her older sister's skinned knees, and you lean your head on your husband's shoulders.
-He eventually gets his big girl back on her bike a week later, telling her she's a very brave girl and so so proud of her
-Andrew reads both girls two bedtime stories every night. He takes them to the library twice a month because his kids won't contribute to the country's declining literacy rates.
-His youngest usually cons him into an extra book.
-He moves his truck into the street so his girls can play with sidewalk chalk in the driveway and lies on the ground for them to trace his body and draw a "portrait of him" and tries not to think too hard about all the disease he could catch in doing so.
-He sends you a text to come out and let the girls trace you, too, and once they have Mommy drawn out next to Daddy, they need to be traced, too, so you each trace one of your daughters and watch in awe as they create a multi-colored chalk drawing of their family.
-When the girls are sleeping, and he's alone in bed with his angel of a wife, he whispers in your ear that you're the most incredible woman, that he loves you and the family you've made with him, that you're so kind and smart and resilient, that he loves you, and he wants to try for baby number three.
dividers by @/saradika-graphics
all works tags: @person-005 @madpanda75 @tearsweetenedtea @canonisoptional
p.s. if you would like to be tagged for future works featuring Andrew "Pope" Cody or the all works taglist, just comment asking (be specific) <3
‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. jack abbot x kindergarten teacher!reader
❀ jack abbot who comes into his wife's kindergarten class every year on careers day to tell the kids all about being a doctor
❀ jack abbot who keeps all of the drawings the students make for him
❀ jack abbot who is always called for paediatric cases because he spends so much time in his wife's class, and knows what to talk to the kids about to keep them distracted
❀ jack abbot who remembers the names of all his wife's students and remembers everything she tells him about them
❀ jack abbot who sits quietly on saturday mornings and reads medical journals while his wife marks her students work
❀ jack abbot who helps out with all the school fairs and performances, he even goes on all their fields trips (for practicality of course, he can be a first aider if needed, not because he secretly loves the trips to the aquarium)
❀ jack abbot who helps decorate her classroom every summer (and for halloween and christmas)
❀ jack abbot who always buys his wife two bouquets of flowers, one for the dining table and one for her desk in her classroom
SUMMARY: Phoebe's birthday party consists of four sets of eyes ogling Jack from the second he enters your apartment, screaming children, your mom noticing something rather interesting, and a night on the balcony that changes the trajectory of everything.
WARNINGS: the summary is a warning in itself but this part includes mentions of Tom, alcohol consumption, deep talks, heavy mentions of foster care, flirting (!!!!!), slight miscommunication, Jack opening up about his relationship with his wife, yet another phone call from Robby and god I don't want to spoil it but.... a surprise at the end !!!!!!
A/N: it's here!! This is it, here we go. I have been so excited to get to this point in the series because this is where we get the juicy stuff, and I was screaming my ass off writing the last part of this chapter hehe. A huge thank you for all the love and support this series is receiving, it truly means so much <3
PAIRING: Jack Abbot x Single Mom!Reader
WORD COUNT: 8.7k
PREV. PART — SERIES MASTERLIST
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
It was a mistake to have told your friends what happened in the ER. Even more of a mistake that you told them your fucking neighbour was the one to conduct your pelvic exam. Because you know that they're a bunch of busybodies. And you also know from experience that whenever one of you mentions a new male figure entering your lives in any capacity, they have to do their research.
It should not have surprised you that Bella had somehow found his LinkedIn and sent his very attractive and recent photo into the group chat. You also should’ve known that with that, came the thirst comments and that they’d be more than happy to have their pelvic exams to be done by him, too.
All in jest, to begin with. You didn’t stress because it was separate. There was no reason for them to ever meet him. Except now, there is. Because he’s coming to Phoebe’s birthday party and now you’ve had to gather the girls around the kitchen island while the kids play to give them their one and only warning to be on their best fucking behavior.
“Jack’s coming.”
It’s all it takes for all four pairs of eyes to land on you and widen. Bella, naturally, is the first to smirk. An expression that is very quickly mirrored by Leone, Chloe and Karis. You raise a palm to stop them before anyone can try to say something stupid or inappropriate.
“You are all to be on your best behavior and not stare at him like he’s some sort of zoo animal.”
Their smirks collectively turn into feline grins at your words. “Jesus, we’re not that bad.” Karis defends, though really she’s only actually speaking for herself.
You huff. “He’s just a friend and he’s Phoebe’s favorite person. Please don’t be weird and please do not bring up my pelvic exam.”
Karis giggles at that, her short brown bob swaying with the movement of her shoulders. Her reaction is much more innocent than the crazed smirks of the others. She’s always been the prude one of the friend group, never openly engaging in sex talk or sharing personal experiences. She’s just a bit of a quieter, more timid soul. Engaged to her lovely fiance, Ricky, and four months pregnant with her first.
Bella feigns an offended sigh, leaning across the kitchen island on her forearms. Her palms clap together gently, the chunky rings on her fingers clicking. “We promise to behave.”
You squint at her, unconvinced. Bella will be the biggest problem. Single, flirty and has no real sense of shame or embarrassment. That’s probably why she’s your favorite.
Your eyes flicker over to Leone and Chloe who are honestly the least of your concerns. “Don’t look at us.” They spend so much time together that the words slip from their mouths at the same time.
Anyone who meets them assumes they're in the honeymoon period, freshly smitten. But in reality, they’ve been together since high school. When they were told it was just a phase. When they got bullied by girls and sexualized by boys. You’ll forever have the memory of the time you broke Henry Stevenson's nose when he called them dykes and asked them both to scissor in front of him.
You feel a palm on your lower back, a presence at your shoulder. Your mom stands beside you, unwrapping the rest of the party food that’s plated on the island. “Tom not coming?”
You scoff at her joke. “Nope. I invited him for Pheebs, but he said he has plans.”
She pauses, turns to you. “But it’s her birthday.”
With a sigh, you purse your lips and drop your shoulders. You can’t help but look across to Phoebe; playing with Bella’s daughter, Florence, and some of her other friends from preschool. It makes your heart ache to watch her laugh with excitement and grin in happiness and know that Tom doesn’t love her the way he should. The way she deserves.
“Don’t worry about it, honey. She's got everyone she needs right here.” It’s your dad’s hands that land comfortingly on your shoulder, a grounding touch and a blanket of reassurance and love.
You sink into it a little, let him wrap you in his arms. No matter how old you are, it always makes you feel like a teenager again. Safe in your fathers hold, knowing that he will never let anything touch or harm you.
“Besides,” Bella begins with a grin, “I’m sure she’ll forget all about Tom when Jack gets here.”
Your moms head whips to you, eyes wide and sparkling as her lips curl in intrigue. “The silver fox?”
You feel your dad still slightly as he pulls away from you, cocking a brow at your mom in what can only be playful from him. She swats his rounding tummy in jest and wraps herself around him. But your dad…he turns to you with raised brows, a silent question as to what the fuck your mother is talking about.
“You’re seeing someone? Someone older?”
A groan tumbles from your lips. “No. He’s a neighbor. A friend.”
“For now.” Chloe murmurs over the rim of her glass, eyes shining something mischievous.
He looks at Chloe, then back to you. Your mom pats his stomach, one arm around his waist. “David, you’re not allowed to feel any type of way about this. You’re nineteen years older than me!”
A huff falls from you but you can’t help the laugh that follows. “There is nothing to feel about anything because Jack is a friend.” It’s like you speak in an alien tongue, because they all blink at you blankly.
Your dad rolls his shoulders, clears his throat like the subject has made him uncomfortable. If he’s honest with himself, it has. He’s never liked the topic of you having a boyfriend or a partner. He hated it as a teenager and now you’re almost thirty…it still hasn’t gotten easier to come to terms with.
That you, his little girl, isn’t a little girl anymore. David often has to remind himself that you’re an adult, a mother. And that despite how uneasy he feels about you potentially being interested in an older man, Prue is right. He is nineteen years older than her. He has no place to judge, only has room for validated fatherly concern.
He clears his throat, focuses his attention on you. “How old is this Jack, exactly?”
You chew on the inside of your cheek. There is absolutely no need to be having the conversation, and yet you find yourself quietly indulging your father anyway. “Forty-four.”
Your father blinks and you know he’s mentally calculating an age difference. He has the same look in your eye that you did when you were staring at your reflection the night after the ED visit, calculating the gap yourself.
Sixteen years.
David looses a breath and there’s a stillness in the kitchen. Phoebe and her friends continue to play, unaware of the turmoil he’s mentally battling. He reminds himself that you’re a big girl now, that you can make your own decisions. That he knows Phoebe is your priority always.
But David knows what an age difference looks like. There’s a worry that wedges itself deep beneath his ribcage for you. Because while an older man may be able to offer you more, he can’t offer everything. At seventy-five years old, he knows he’s lucky if he’s got another ten years in him. That he’ll be leaving Prue a widow at sixty-six. That he won’t make it to see Phoebe become an adult, won’t make it to meet his grandchildren if she grows to have any.
It doesn’t matter how fit and healthy he is, or how good he looks for his age. David is old, getting older. He can’t do the things that Prue can. He doesn’t want that life for you.
The tension in the kitchen makes the next part even harder. And you don’t look at anyone when you utter words that make your father tense even further. “If you see his wedding band, don’t ask about it.”
An even thicker silence settles over the room at that. Partly because you’d never told them he was married, but also because they all seemed to get the hint that his wife is no longer here.
It makes David’s chest feel tight. Like history is repeating itself. Because before Prue, he was also a widow.
Before any other questions can be asked, Phoebe is shrieking in delight as she tears open another gift. It’s all that’s needed for everyone to swiftly move past the doomed conversation. You avoid your mothers sympathetic gaze as you reach Phoebe, grinning as she slips her feet into a pair of plastic heels.
There’s wrapping paper everywhere, toys and books and dress-up outfits. She’s torn through the majority of her gifts, screaming at Alexa to play Ain’t It Fun by Paramore. She’s no longer wearing the pretty dress you picked out for her; replacing it sometime ten minutes ago with a bright pink tutu and a Def Leopard t-shirt.
After a round of musical statues and beating the shit out of a pinata, there’s a firm knock at the front door and Phoebe is moving toward it before you can say otherwise.
The excitement in her screech is ear shattering as she throws the door wide open and bounces on the spot. Jack grins down at her widely, a large box wrapped in funky paper tucked under a muscular arm.
“Hey, birthday girl.”
“Jack! You came! Look, I'm having a party.” Phoebe doesn’t wait for Jack to respond, wraps her hand around his fingers and drags him into the apartment with far too much excitement.
You watch with pursed lips, desperately trying to hide your grin at the sight. Jack’s eyes find yours amongst the chaos of hyperactive children and wayward adults, his gaze softening but the edges are lined with amusement.
No more navy scrubs, but a pair of dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt that’s far too tight around his biceps. The slightly salt and pepper hair sits in what you can only assume to be their natural curls, and you have to remind yourself not to stare.
You offer a wave, stepping over toys and little feet to reach him. It’s far too natural in how his free arm opens to pull you into a casual hug, your front pressing against his side for a brief moment in greeting before you both pull away.
“Looks crazy in here,” he observes with a fond tone.
You can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, you couldn’t have arrived at a more chaotic time.”
Phoebe pulls on Jack's pants, eager for his attention again. He gives it to her without another thought, crouches with a soft groan and about as much fluidity as a rusty pole. But he offers the gift to a bright eyed girl and she tears the paper off it within seconds.
Another shriek of delight echoes through the room and you watch with raised brows as Phoebe jumps and shakes the box. “Mommy! I’m just like Jack!”
She shoves the box to the ground and frantically begins to rip into it. It’s a medical kit. Complete with a doctor's case, plastic medical equipment, a pretend ID badge and blue scrubs that match Jack’s a little too well.
You blink at him, lips parted slightly in surprise. It was only yesterday that Phoebe told him she wanted to be a doctor when she grows up. And somehow, he’s found the most perfect gift between then and now.
“This is the bestest present ever! Thank you, Jack.” Phoebe throws herself at him again, arms wrapping around his neck and he smiles softly as he holds her with a gentle palm on her back.
“You’re so welcome, kid.”
He rises with another soft groan when Phoebe finally releases him from her clutches, and you both watch as she struggles to put the top on over her current one and step into the pants beneath the tutu. She’s grinning wide when she wraps the stethoscope around her neck and shoves the rest of the medical tools in her little bag.
You have to stifle a laugh when she orders one of her friends to pretend to be sick and Jack follows you toward the kitchen. “I’ll get you a drink. You didn’t have to get her a gift.”
He scoffs, like he’s offended. “And show up to a diva's birthday party empty-handed?”
A laugh falls from your lips but lodges in your throat the moment you approach the kitchen island and realize all eyes are on you. Well, not you. On Jack.
He stands with a polite smile, hands behind his back and a slight stiffness in his shoulders like he’s about to be interrogated for something he absolutely has not done yet.
You clear your throat. “Um, Jack, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Jack. Our neighbor and Phoebe’s best friend.”
He laughs softly at that, a brief blush of pinkness dusting across his cheeks at your introduction. Bella is the first to introduce herself as your best friend. Then Karis, who’s a little more polite about it. Both Leone and Chloe offer smirks and a wave, no words to tell him their names.
But your mom and dad… they approach Jack slowly. Your mother with a warm smile and your father with a slight squint in his eyes.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Jack. I’m Y/N’s mom, Prue. And this is my husband, David. Phoebe does not shut up about her favorite doctor.”
Jack’s laugh is a bit nervous, a bit self-deprecating. But he offers a warm handshake to your parents and you take that moment to shoot a glare and a silent shut the fuck up to your grinning friends.
“Ah, nothing too special about me but she’s a pretty cool kid.” He deflects it easily, casually.
Your mom makes a sound of disagreement. “She’s a strongheaded girl, like her mom. I trust her judge of character more than my own sometimes, and I’ve been a lawyer for thirty years.” She laughs and Jack dips his head a bit bashfully.
“Yeah, I heard you retired recently. Congratulations.”
She waves him off with a grin. “Is a lawyer ever truly retired? You ever need a defence attorney for anything outside of the hospital, you let me know.”
He grins appreciatively at the offer. “I’ll keep that in mind, Prue.”
“You always been a doctor, Jack?” David asks it casually enough but there’s a slight accusing tone to his voice that’s completely unwarranted.
But Jack just shrugs with a slight nod. “I’ve been in medicine most of my life. I served three tours as a combat medic before I went into emergency medicine.”
Your dad pauses, stares at your neighbor and you quickly take note of the wide eyes of your friends. You’d missed that tidbit of information when they were grilling you about him. And you’re yet to let them know about his little SWAT hobby.
There’s a hint of approval in your dad’s eyes at that and you visibly watch the way his shoulders relax slightly. “I did four tours back in my day. The medics are the real heroes… PTMC is lucky to have you.”
It’s about as much outright approval David has ever given a man that’s come into your life. It’s something that makes you feel sick and happy all at once. He’s just your fucking neighbor, why is everyone treating him like he’s your boyfriend?
Phoebe is bouncing into the kitchen before much more can be said, complaining about the lack of food she’s eaten and your parents and friends make quick work of moving the food to the small table set up in the lounge. You take that moment as a breather as they set the kids up for dinner and busy your hands with making a drink for Jack.
“Sorry, you kind of got thrown in the deep end there.” You apologize with a fond laugh.
Jack sits at the island, shrugging a shoulder and lazily waving a hand to brush it off. “They all seem nice. Phoebe had a good day?”
You nod with a tired smile as you slide a plastic cup toward him. He probably shouldn’t trust you as blindly as he does because he lifts the cup to take a sip before even checking what’s inside it, and swallows with brows raised.
“Beer at a kids party?”
You lean across the island to clink your cup to his. “I won’t tell if you won't."
Jack laughs but nods his head, taking another gulp before twisting in his seat to watch Phoebe help her friends put party hats on their heads and hold a mini speech to thank everyone for coming.
Your head falls between your arms as you laugh at the sight, a loud chuckle falling from Jack as he watches her with a wide grin and an ache in his chest.
For a moment, you just watch him watch her. Notice the way his grin softens into something fond and caring. Your throat dries up and you have to clear it with a cough. “Thank you for coming and for her gift. She’s a bit crazy about you at the minute.”
His eyes remain on Phoebe when he speaks. “Yeah, I've got a soft spot for her, too.” And when he turns back to you, his expression morphs into something slightly more intense. “And her mom.”
You swallow around the dryness in your throat, pray to fucking God that he doesn’t notice the heat that crawls up your neck and sits on the apples of your cheeks. You feel warm and fuzzy all over at his words, at the potential implications of them. The actual meaning.
You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything at all. Your lips roll between your teeth to conceal a growing smile and you try your best to maintain his eye contact as you bring your cup to your lips again to take another sip.
Jack doesn’t get to spend much more time with you for the rest of the party. You’re either pulled away by duties or Jack is pulled away by Phoebe. He spends the next hour playing doctors with the four year olds and getting to know your mom and dad. But it’s on more than one occasion that you glance over to find him in deep conversation with Bella.
It sits uneasy in your stomach; the way he looks at her in such an intense way, like whatever she’s saying is gospel. It makes your throat swell in something like insecurity and embarrassment. There is nothing between you and Jack, you know that. But he says he has a soft spot for you and Phoebe and then submerges himself in Bella’s presence.
You’re not blind. You know how beautiful Bella is. Dark skin and silky hair. Chocolate brown eyes and fluttering lashes that frame them. She’s slender, perfectly proportioned and she has a smile that tends to daze anyone she speaks with. It’s not a surprise to you that Jack fell into her captivation either.
But it hurts, nonetheless. It stings in a way that it always has done with Bella. You’re wanted and desired until they meet her. Then you’re just a stepping stone to get to who they really want.
You believe what Jack said, that he does have a soft spot for Phoebe and you. But you believe it’s a spot of pity. Where he feels sorry for the single mom and toddler in apartment seventeen.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
Bella finds you when you’re sticking candles into the frosting of Phoebe’s birthday cake, a sly look on her features as she stands beside you. “Jack seems nice. I see why Pheebs is obsessed with him.”
You still at her voice, at the mention of him. You force yourself to shove her playfully as crimson begins to crawl across your skin. She watches the heat on you, the insistent blinking. A mixture of embarrassment, hurt and if you’re honest with yourself, something like jealousy.
Her lips part. Body turning to look at you. “You like him.”
It’s not a question, it’s written all over your face. You can’t bring yourself to deny it, you’ve never been able to lie to Bella. She sees right through you. Always has. But you do look at her and it’s then that she notices a vulnerability in your eyes that she’s never seen before.
It makes her pause, makes her teasing falter. You see the look of understanding cross her features and you look away. You’re not prepared to have this conversation with her. Not here. Not now.
So you grab a lighter instead and bring the flame to the candles. Heaving a sigh, you slip your palms beneath the cake board and slowly round the kitchen island to make your way over to everyone.
Jack notices you approaching first, eyes darting between yours with a small knit between his brows like he knows something is wrong. But when he notices the cake in your hands and your careful footsteps, he doesn’t approach you to ask.
He does a quick take of everyone else, all too occupied in conversation or tending to the children and without much more of a thought, he slips his phone into his pocket and angles it toward you and you have to look away as he begins to film.
Bella starts singing first, allowing you a moment to find your voice before the entire room is singing off-key and you’re kneeling in front of Pheebs. She blows out the candle on a big breath and it’s not lost on you that this is the first year the cake isn’t covered in her saliva from it.
Jack moves closer to catch it on camera, his laugh bubbling out of him when he actually sees the cake properly and the iced writing on top of it.
DIVA, ALL THE TIME. OLDER, OCCASIONALLY.
Phoebe scoops her finger into the edge of the cake, a hefty chunk of frosting making its way into her mouth and she grins cheekily at Jack’s camera. Your mom scoops her up, peppering kisses to her cheeks and nose despite Phoebe’s obnoxious protests to put her down.
You move in exhaustion and auto pilot for the last thirty minutes of the party. Cutting cake, filling goodie bags, watching Phoebe and her friends do round after round of Singstar on the old PlayStation2 you had kept from your younger years. It made you laugh when she started singing Faint at the top of her lungs.
“I thought she didn’t like screaming music?” Jack had asked.
And it was his turn to laugh when you both turned to look at him and said, “Linkin Park doesn’t count,” at the same time.
By 7.30p.m, the party is clearing out of guests. Parents come to collect their kids while Bella drags a very uncooperative Florence out of the apartment; overtired and not wanting to leave.
Jack sits on the couch with a very sleepy Phoebe who has tucked herself into his side as she makes him read your copy of Stevie Nicks’ autobiography. The sight is so overwhelming it almost makes you feel sick and you have to look away and focus on the state of your kitchen instead.
You feel a presence approaching you, gentle hands resting on your shoulders that you know to be your moms. Her lips barely tickle your ear as she speaks quietly. “I didn’t see a ring.”
Your brows pull together slightly in a frown. For a moment, you’re confused as to what she’s talking about. But when you turn to face her and she offers a subtle movement of her head toward Jack’s direction, you blink.
“Really?”
She hums. “He’s not wearing it. Not today at least.” She presses a kiss to your cheek as your dad joins her, wrapping you in a hug to say goodbye.
You watch them press kisses to Phoebe’s head but she dodges them and shimmies out of Jack’s grasp. Her legs can barely keep her on her feet as she reaches you, rubbing at her eyes and insisting she needs to have a bath and go to sleep.
Taking her into her arms, you’re reminded that your four-year-old is no longer a baby and actually weighs thirty-eight pounds of pure sassiness. You throw an apology over your shoulder to your parents and Jack, each of them dismissing you with a smile and wave of their hand.
She puts up a fight in the tub, fighting you for the jug as you try to wash the soap out of her hair. Brushing her teeth is a wrestling match in itself, her argument being that she wants to be able to taste her birthday cake while she dreams.
But when you go on a bit of a desperate spiral of convincing Phoebe that her teeth will fall out and then so will her tongue and she’ll never be able to eat cake again if she doesn’t brush them, she gives in.
Settling her to bed is an even bigger struggle. First, her pyjamas are too warm, then the second pair are not pink enough. It takes every ounce of you to remain calm and patient. And after four pyjama changes and three Avril Lavigne songs, she’s snoring into her pillow like butter wouldn’t melt.
By the time you creep out of Phoebe’s room, your apartment is silent and…clean.
You blink.
The food and wrapping paper has been cleared up. The frosting smears on the furniture have been wiped clean and popped balloons and torn party streamers no longer litter the floor.
Rustling from the kitchen catches your attention and you follow the noise. Jack stands there, trash bag in hand and humming something that sounds oddly like AC/DC under his breath. He catches your presence as you move closer, taking in the spotless kitchen in slight astonishment.
He smiles at you, not stopping the task at hand. “Phoebe okay?”
You blink again at him. “Uh, yeah. Just overtired—Jack, you didn’t need to stay to clean up.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “You snuck me beer, it’s the least I could do.”
A tired laugh escapes you, and when he nods his head to the open doors to the balcony, you notice two more in the bottle sitting on the little patio table. Your shoulders sag in relief at the sight of it and even from a short distance, you can make out the little drops of condensation that drip down the glass.
“On second thought, you can stay and clean up whenever you like.”
Jack chuckles at that, nods his head toward it again and you hate that you don’t argue with the silent but gentle command. The moment you step outside, your clammy skin is kissed by the cool evening breeze. It shakes a stressed sigh from your chest and you sink into the patio couch.
You’re a few sips into your beer when Jack joins you, easing himself beside you with a small grunt. You watch him take in the surroundings. Unlike Jack’s balcony—which is bare of anything but a table and two chairs—yours is comfortable, homey.
There’s outdoor furniture suitable for weather with throws and pillows, plant pots lining the corners and warm twinkling fairy lights wrapped around the iron fencing. When he reaches for the beer, it’s then that you notice for yourself what your mom observed earlier.
He really isn’t wearing his ring.
You take another long gulp from the bottle, let the bitterness line your tongue when you catch him stretching out his leg from your peripheral.
“You can take it off by the way.” You nod toward his leg. “My great uncle had two prosthetic legs.”
Jack cocks a brow as he looks at you.
“Army?” He assumes but he doesn’t argue with your offer. He tugs his jeans up as much as the denim will allow and reaches beneath the hem to pop the clips on the prosthetic.
You scoff. “Being a jackass.”
It’s both a laugh and a sigh of relief when he eases the socket past his knee and places the machinery to the side of him. The relief in his body is almost immediate. You watch the way his shoulders sag in something like relaxation and he sits back with his beer and a gleam of tiredness in his eyes.
“Thank you again, for coming. For her gift. For cleaning up. She really does adore you, you know.”
A softness eases the worrylines on his face, coaxes the tiredness from his eyes and loosens the clench in his jaw. Jack looks at you with something gentle. “She’s a great kid. You’re a great mom.”
A smile teeters on the edges of your mouth, cheeks swelling slightly at the motion. And despite the fact that he’s interested in Bella, you still find yourself wanting to open up to him. His company is exciting. His presence is comforting.
No matter what, you know you’ll always have a friend in Jack. It’s a fact that you believe enough that your lips are moving and unspoken vulnerabilities are slipping out.
“I was only three months pregnant when Tom told me he couldn’t do it. Be a dad…” Jack listens intently, eyes on you despite your gaze landing on his balcony across the way. “I was barely twenty-three and I was terrified. I never even wanted kids, you know? I was too selfish to be able to care for something so dependent. I had no job, no qualifications… a boyfriend that was an ass.” You laugh but Jack doesn’t. He just watches you, soaks the information in.
You swallow, fingers catching the drops of condensation that race down the neck of the bottle.
“But I loved her already, and I promised her and myself that I’d be the best mother I could be. I was content with doing it alone, without Tom. But he kept coming back. Hot and cold. One minute she was his daughter and the next he needed time away. I gave him so many outs, Jack. So many chances to just leave her alone before it got complicated for her.”
Jack watches the tears well in your eyes and it clenches his heart in a vice. “He picks and chooses when he wants to be in her life. When it’s convenient for him. And now she’s four and she notices when he doesn’t show up when he’s supposed to. He’s constantly disappointing her. He couldn’t even show up for her fucking birthday.”
Jack’s hand moves before he can really comprehend the action. His palm rests on your fist in your lap, a soothing and grounding gesture to tell you he understands, he’s here, he’s listening.
You sniffle and look down at it, the thin, pale line of where a ring used to sit.
“I’m sorry.” You laugh a bit watery. “Didn’t mean to unload that on you.”
He shakes his head. “No, don’t do that. Don’t apologize for how his actions have made you feel. You deserved more than that. Both of you.” His voice is tender, the words wrapping around your soul in the form of an embrace. And you allow yourself to find reprieve in it, if only for a moment.
But the weight of his palm above your fist becomes suffocating. A ring-less hand, a touch that no doubt itches for your beloved friend. Your fingers wiggle beneath his hand and he retreats, watching you use it to wipe the tears from your face that have fallen.
“I know.” You whisper. “My parents were a saving grace.”
Jack feels lighter when he watches the sadness morph into something happier. “You’re close with them.” He comments with a small smile of his own.
“Yeah.” You smile. “Not always.” You add with a laugh.
When you turn to Jack, he’s looking at you with a lopsided smile and raised brows. A silent question.
You huff a laugh. “I grew up in foster care. I didn’t get assigned to David and Prue until I was twelve, and by that age I was angry at the world and drowning in hormones. I was…a difficult teenager. But they were patient. They were kind and understanding and they let me express myself. It took me a long time to understand that they cared about me. That they loved me.”
Reminiscing on your youth doesn’t bring up fond memories. You’ll always be plagued with the houses before them. The unforgiving foster families. The neglect and the bullying. And how it’s somehow continued to transpire into your adult life.
A bit similar to that saying, always the bridesmaid but never the bride.
He understands you a bit clearer now. Your frustration and heartache when it comes to Phoebe. Because it hits you deeper than anyone could truly understand. Because you’d never been enough for anyone before David and Prue chose you.
Jack calls your name softly, a reverent look in his gaze, like his soul is boring into yours. “You are an incredible mom. An incredible woman.”
There’s so much conviction in his voice that you don’t know what to do with it. It wedges its way into a chained off crevice in your heart and settles there like a permanent tattoo.
You try to wave him off, attempt to scoff out a light laugh and look away but Jack chases your gaze. “I’m serious. I mean, c’mon. You’re not even thirty and look at what you’ve accomplished. Give yourself some grace.”
That does make you scoff, but not maliciously. “Says the guy that’s served three tours, is an attending physician in the ED and also spends his free time as a combat medic for SWAT.”
Jack cracks a wonky grin at that, one that screams flirtation and a promise of heartbreak. “Don’t forget I’m also your daughter's favorite person.”
Your head falls back on a laugh before it lulls to your shoulder and you’re looking at him again. “What about you? No kids of your own?”
It’s a sobering question for Jack. One he would prefer not to delve into right now… or at any point, for that matter. But there’s a comfortability he feels with you, no judgement or disgust.
And you’ve opened up so deeply to him, he supposes it’s only fair he offers part of himself to you in return.
“No,” he begins softly. “I was never against the idea, but Moira…”
You offer him the same grace that he gave you. You don’t rush, don’t speak. Just listen and absorb his past as he did yours. It’s intimate for him to share, to admit to someone new that his wife worried she’d be a bad mom, that Jack believed she knew she was sick for longer than he did.
That it was her way of protecting him.
It almost clears your heart in two when he confides in you that, actually, it breaks him more to live with nothing but the foggy memories of her. Nothing shared between them remains.
How he sold the house, how she never wanted to take his name in fear of it removing the hard work she’d made for herself prior to him. How Jack understood it all, how she loved him unconditionally and he her.
And how recently, he’s come to terms with the fact that he can’t live with the ghost of her. That his once undying love has eased into something he’ll carry forever, but not something he can never move forward from.
But one thing he’s certain of is biggest regret of not having children. Before his wife, with his wife, after his wife.
“I think being around Phoebe made me realize that.” The admittance that comes from him almost paralyzes you. “I’ve come to realize it’s my biggest regret in life.”
You have to blink back tears. At the sad and very vulnerable admission he’s given, and the fact that your Phoebe is the one to make him realize such a thing. That she’s special enough to have that effect on someone.
“You don’t think you’ll have any in the future?” You ask softly.
Jack scoffs a laugh, humorously. “I think I’ve passed my sell-by date for that.”
You roll your eyes, ready to argue that forty-four is not too old to have a child but Jack cuts you off with a question of his own before you can.
“What about you? Do you think you'll have more?”
The question gives you pause and it takes you a moment to truly consider your answer. “I’ve always said no. That Pheebs is my one hit wonder. But sometimes, I don’t know, I get worried she'll grow up lonely like I did.”
You don’t mention that having more children would mean having to meet someone who you can trust and rely on not to step away. That a man that isn’t put off by a single mom is harder to come by than people think.
“Besides, I think Phoebe is enough of a handful on her own.”
Jack’s grin stretches wide in amusement and fondness, chuckling into the rim of his beer bottle as he takes another long swig. His eyes cloud over with something pensive before turning to you with a slightly sheepish expression.
“I need to be honest with you about something.”
You grow uncomfortable at his words, shifting in your seat to face your body to his. Jack doesn’t speak again straight away. He looks to be considering his next statement and you’re a bit concerned at how quickly it's pushing you toward the brink of panic.
“Phoebe might’ve slipped up on something about a silver fox.”
His eyes glimmer with mirth when yours widens with horror. A crippling wave of humiliation spreads through as fire licks at your skin from the inside out. He doesn’t have to say it properly for you to know exactly what Phoebe has said.
That meddling little shit.
“I am so sorry.” Your hands come up to shield your burning face and you force yourself to laugh to ease the embarrassment but it comes out more pained than anything. “She must’ve heard me on the phone.”
The sight makes Jack chuckle, finding the situation both flattering and endearing. It makes him feel other things, but they’re nothing he’s willing to admit just yet.
Dragging your hands down your face, you turn to him sheepishly and can’t help but laugh at your own predicament. “I’m sorry. I hope it didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
Jack waves you off with a dismissive hand, the muscles in his biceps stretching as he leans across to place his beer on the table. Your eyes track the movement, your thighs clench.
“Are you kidding me? I’m flattered.”
A laugh barks out from the back of your throat at that and Jack decides it’s one of the most gorgeous things he’s ever heard before. It makes his lips move again, keeps him talking, if only to hear it one more time.
“I think you should consider it for your next book. A silver fox protagonist.”
Your giggles follow through his next statement, head lulling back and body shaking slightly. “Oh, I’m sure that would do wonders for your ego.”
Jack’s brows raise, his smirk stretching. “Well, I never said it had to be about me, but I’m more than happy to play muse if I get a scene like chapter fifty-five.”
You don’t miss the slightly sultry dip in his tone. It’s playfully enough to not be truly perceived as anything more than that, but it still ignites a flame in your belly.
Turning to him with burning cheeks, your eyes squint accusingly. “You finished my book.”
He grins wider, teasing. “That chapter is some of the best writing I’ve ever read.”
You refused to be embarrassed or ashamed for it. So you cock a brow and force a smirk and pin him with a look of accusation and taunting. “Oh, yeah? You’re into threesomes and sex toys?”
Jack chuckles, loud and carefree. But he doesn’t answer the question, just pins you with the same look you gave him. “Is that chapter based on a personal experience or…”
“No, I’m just blessed with a very vivid imagination.”
“Yeah?” It comes out breathlessly, a raspy whisper that you’re sure he doesn’t mean to speak in. Jack’s eyes zero in on yours, captivating in a way that makes you violently ill.
He’s flirting. You’re not dumb. The smirk pulling at the corner of his tempting mouth, the glimmer of mischief in his eyes like he’s testing the waters.
Your breath hitches, you’re hot all over, and it’s completely involuntary when your eyes flick down to his naked hand. Like you’re doing something wrong. Jack catches the movement, sobers him enough to drop the smirk and reach for his bare finger. A hint of panic begins to seize in your chest. Partly because you’ve made him uncomfortable with the slip but mostly because his interactions with Bella are at the forefront of your mind.
“I know you’ve noticed. It’s okay for you to ask about it.” His soft voice brings you back to the present and your lips part to blubber out something you’re unsure of.
You don’t deny it, you won’t lie to him. So instead, you settle on the only thing that’s truthful and respectful to him and his late wife. “It’s not my place.”
Jack shrugs a shoulder, brows pinched just slightly. “Sure it is.”
Confusion doesn’t manage to fully reach you before Jack dips two fingers into the hem of his shirt to pull out a silver chain and his band dangling from it. “You’re the one that gave me the idea.”
You stare at the thin chain pinched between two thick fingers, at the silver band that glimmers when the moonlight catches on the metal. Something happens in your chest; a clench, an ache, a cry. You’re unsure of the sensation, the way it spreads cold and warmth through your blood at the same time.
The idea that you and your daughter have made such a profound effect on someone in such a short amount of time is almost dystopian. You’re not used to it. Being noticed, being seen. Not used to your actions or words being absorbed so fully to the point of them altering someone else in a positive way.
It steals your breath from your lungs, makes your eyes sting. But you muster up a gentle smile, anyway. It’s a feeling of happiness for Jack that shortly follows, pride. Because you remember how long it took for you to finally move your ring to a chain around your neck. You remember the struggle and inner battle about moving forward, scared that you were belittling a once prominent presence in your life.
Jack’s phone vibrating and ringing a generic sound breaks the lull between you both. He keeps his eyes on you, like he’s willing to ignore whoever it is in favor of whatever the fuck is happening between you right now. But responsibility gets the better of him and he reaches for his phone in his pocket at the same time as Phoebe waking up and shouting that she needs to poop.
With a laugh, Jack watches you excuse yourself and returns his attention to his phone. Robby’s name is on his screen and he’s never fucking wanted to strangle him as much as he does in this moment. But Jack answers, and brings the device to his ear with a heavy sigh.
“Hey, man. You good?”
“Yeah. You told me not to leave it for two weeks next time. You watching the game?”
Jack huffs to himself, lets his eyes gaze behind him and through the window where you’re making your way to Phoebe’s room. “Uh, no. I’m out…kinda busy right now.”
Robby’s silence is enough to make Jack cringe. Because if his best friend knows anything, it’s his work and sleep schedule, his inability to have a hobby that doesn’t include a near-miss and an adrenaline rush.
“You’re on a date?” He can fucking hear the smirk in Robby’s voice.
Jack clears his throat. “No, not…exactly.”
Another pregnant pause echoes down the line and he knows what Robby is doing. Thinking of a snarky comment, fighting off a shit-eating smirk that’s no doubt already stretched across his stupid face. Really, Jack’s happy to be his source of entertainment for the evening. Better it be at his expense than Robby throwing himself into incoming traffic.
“Babysitting?” He finally quips back.
Jack scoffs, fights off his own grin and lets out an exasperated sigh. “I’ll call you tomorrow, asshole.”
He doesn’t wait for a reply before ending the call. Jack stares at the darkening night sky, finally catching a glance at the time on his phone screen. You’ve been talking for almost three hours, the time slipping between his fingers. It bothers him a little to know he’s likely overstaying his welcome and should probably leave.
By the time he’s reattached his prosthetic and gently discards your empty bottles of beer in the trash, Jack finds you in the hall, sneaking out of Phoebe’s bedroom with hushed steps. You spot him immediately, notice his leg back on and keys in his hand. You try to hide the disappointment of his departure.
“I should probably head out, it’s getting late.”
You nod, offer a gentle smile as you approach. Jack lets you lead him to the door, lets you thank him for the third time for Phoebe’s gifts, for cleaning up, for keeping you company.
When the door opens and he crosses the threshold, you lean against the doorframe with your arms folded loosely across your chest. Jack smiles down at you, only a few inches taller but enough for your lashes to flutter as you blink up to meet his gaze.
Only a foot away from you.
“Thank you for inviting me. And the beer.” He grins. “Your folks seem like good people.”
You smile despite yourself at that, at how easily he had conversed with your mom, how quickly your dad had offered his respect to him. But you’re sobered with the reminder of your friends. Of his interactions with one in particular.
“It looked like you and Bell got along.” You smile but it doesn’t reach far.
Jack seems to notice, a minute squint in his eyes at the very slight waver in your voice. “Yeah, she’s nice. Cares about you a lot.”
You hum, believe him wholeheartedly. Bella does care, deeply and irrevocably. You’ve been sisters by choice for as long as either of you can remember. That’s what makes it so hard. Because she notices the shift in a man’s attention when she’s introduced to them.
Jack’s eyes flicker slowly across your face, like he’s memorizing every line and imperfection. Like he’s searching for the truth beneath your closed off expression and body language. When his eyes reach your forehead, a twitch forms on his top lip.
A little smear of frosting tucked close to your hairline, something he hadn’t noticed under the dim lighting of the balcony. Without much thought, he reaches a hand to your face, lets his thumb brush against the dried, flaky consistency. Tries not to think too much about how warm your skin is. How soft.
You force yourself not to seize up beneath his touch, can feel a tightness on your skin in the area he gently tries to brush clean. “She’s single, by the way.”
Jack’s too fixated on the frosting coating your skin to pay much attention to your words. Doesn’t register his movements until after he’s brought the pad of his thumb to his tongue and returned it to your forehead with three caressing strokes.
“Who’s single?”
The raspiness of his voice paired with his actions makes you falter for a moment. You’re barely quick enough to catch yourself from slipping under as goosebumps pebble across your warm skin.
“Bella,” you swallow thickly. “I can give you her number, if you’d like.”
Your breathing becomes somewhat labored as you watch him, drowning in the focus in his gaze as he wipes away whatever is blemishing your skin. His hand slips down the same time that Jack’s eyes do and he locks his line of vision into your soul as his palm cups your jaw.
You don’t know when he stepped closer, when your arms dropped to your sides, when your chest suddenly became pressed against his. But you know when you feel a gentle pressure on your hip, a testing squeeze and a thumb stroking against your cheekbone.
Jack moves closer, tentative enough to give you the chance to pull away. But you don’t. You let his palm tilt your head back just an inch, let the tip of his nose ghost against the nape of yours. You feel his breath on your lips, warm with the scent of vanilla frosting and a tinge of beer.
“It’s not Bella that I'm interested in.”
You feel the movement of his lips against your own. And against your better judgement, you press your mouth to his. Jack responds to you immediately, like he’s been waiting on the precipice of this for far too long. His grip on your hip tightens just a notch, his touch on your face growing reverent.
And you find yourself melting into him. Your arms reach for his waist, slide up the hard expanse of his sides, press against his toned chest until they reach his stubbled jaw and snake to the nape of his neck.
Your fingers get lost in his curls as Jack’s mouth opens for you, your tongue chasing him in languid strokes of need. He matches your every lick with as much ferocity as the stroke before. You swallow the breathless sounds that escape him, a rugged whimper that travels like lightning bolts between your legs.
It’s only the need for air that forces you apart, but even then, Jack doesn’t move far. He keeps his hands on you in any capacity that he can as you both breathe heavily. Your head feels muzzy, like you're drunk on just the most simple taste of him.
But nothing about that kiss was simple. Nothing about how Jack makes you feel is simple.
His eyes are closed as his forehead rests against yours, his chest heaving with whatever restraint he has left not to pursue more of you. Not to take whatever you’ll give. Not to give whatever you want.
The tips of your noses caress each other, and Jack almost makes a sound of protest when your fingers slowly uncurl from his hair and slide down his back before your hands are resting back at your sides.
Jack’s eyes remain locked on yours as he presses a final kiss to the corner of your mouth before following your actions. You feel cold the moment his touch is no longer warming your skin. Disoriented when he takes a single step back and out of your space. It's a fight not to reach for him again, to pull him back into you.
“I’ll call you?”
His voice is fucked and raw and it zaps something unhealthy in your core. You don't trust your words, don’t think you can muster anything up even if you tried. So you nod. Dumbly, far too eagerly. It earns you a bit of a smug grin from Jack, but he has the decency to bite his bottom lip in an attempt to hide it.
The act does absolutely fucking nothing to quell the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, but you make no mention of it. Pray to whatever fucker is listening that he can’t notice the tremor in your thighs.
Jack dips his head, another pisspoor attempt to hide his smug amusement.
“Night.”
You say nothing but you watch him walk away. Until he rounds the corner for his side of the complex. Until you’re left standing in your open doorway with arousal coursing through you and the ghost of his lips on yours.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
SERIES MASTERLIST — NEXT PART
Tag list for this series has grown way too big for me to keep up with so it’s unfortunately CLOSED. You can however follow the #apt.17 tag instead for updates on the series!
WHAT DO WE THINK PLS TELL ME UR THOUGHTS BC I AM SO EXCITED TO FINALLY GET INTO THE START OF THEIR ACTUAL RELATIONSHIP!! I feel like it was a good time for them to open up more about their pasts before things progressed between them and don't worry, Jack will get his moment with Tom hehe
Thank you very much for reading! Feedback really means a lot so I would love to hear your thoughts and ideas for where you think this will go!! Reblogs helps to boost stuff for more people to reach so if you enjoyed it please consider reblogging!!
oh. my. goodness. this was just so lovely. truly, it's like someone served me a slice of Phoebe's birthday cake. Ahh the layers that you built into this were just phenomenal.
Bella had somehow found his LinkedIn and sent his very attractive and recent photo
I have to say, I was curious to see what social media you would give him and I think LinkedIn was the perfect choice!!
All of the reader's friends 🥹
I love that you created a diverse friend group, and they all have their own personalities that mix and match with the reader. Obviously, Bella plays a bigger role here, but I love that they all thirsted over his photos in the group chat and agreed to not be weird when Jack came to the party.
He has no place to judge, only has room for validated fatherly concern.
David was such a great addition to the story. I do feel like the logistical concerns about being an older person and dying sooner than your partner are something that Jack would be aware of when he's in a relationship, so this was a fantastic mirror. It's like you created space to share other concerns Jack would have so that you wouldn't mess with the cohesion of the existing narrative.
And somehow, he's found the most perfect gift between then and now.
MY HEARTTTTTTT
And show up to a diva's birthday party empty-handed
He might as well have shown up with a ring. he understands pheebs so much 😭
he's just your fucking neighbor, why is everyone treating him like he's your boyfriend.
this is like the courting phase before two people are allowed to date. it's like he needed to meet the family before he could get permission to be with you. AND I LOVE IT!!
He spends the next hour playing doctors with four year olds and getting to know your mom and dad
he's just so ahhhhhh. i love him, your honor.
It sits uneasy in your stomach; the way he looks at her in such an intense way, like whatever she's saying is gospel.
I just know she was either talking us up or lowkey threatening him bc she can tell that you both like each other. Also, the insecurity and jealousy were written beautifully, my love.
You're not prepared to have this conversation with her. Not here. Not now.
oh just rip my heart out why don't you. but the fact that jack also notices your change in emotion??? beautiful
she grins cheekily at Jack's camera
Jack sits on the couch with a very sleepy Phoebe who has tucked herself into his side as she makes him read your copy of Stevie Nicks' autobiography.
I love that I'm invested in Jack's relationship with Phoebe as much as I am with his relationship with the reader.
when he nods his head to the open doors to the balcony, you notice two more in the bottle sitting on the little patio table.
oh my god this was so perfect. it's like in books/movies when the main character gets surprised by a picnic. this was so beautiful. and the fact that jack put it together while he was cleaning your place and you were taking care of phoebe???? seriously, he might as well propose.
The reader's backstory (Tom and foster care)
so wonderfully written. you really captured how it impacts the reader and her relationship with her daughter.
you don't mention that having more children would mean having to meet someone who you can trust and rely on not to step away.
he's right there babe
Phoebe might've slipped up on something about a silver fox
THAT'S MY GIRL. Also, he's so cheeky for bringing that up, bc he could've kept it to himself if he didn't intend to act on it.
and omg he read the whole book 😳
You're the one that gave me the idea.
omg this broke me. all joking and fluff aside, I love the way you characterize his grief. the reader as well. it's done so well.
Jack's too fixated on the frosting coating your skin to pay much attention to your words.
The fact that he's so enamored with the reader that something as little as frosting is enough to get him distracted is just so ahhhhhhh
The entire last scene
I couldn't pick a quote, it was just so good. The tension?? The kiss??? Even the end. It was all phenomenal.
This was an amazing next part, can't wait to see what comes next!!!
clark "that was a big one, huh? didn't that feel good?" kent that talks filth in your ear while he's playing with your cunt; two middle fingers hooked inside, heel of his palm pressed over your clit. he toys with it, with you — teasing both your mind and pussy as he controls the way in which you feel.
it's not just about your cunt, with him. it's about your mind too. he'd argue that it needs more stimulating than anything else. so when he's playing with your pussy, working you up more and more, he's lips are against the shell of your ear whispering uncharacteristic obscenities like a guide.
he talks to you in such a dulcet tone, words of praise and admiration making you feel the most idolised and most adored. he tells you how good you sound and how pretty you look, speaking it to you like it rolls off his tongue.
and every time that he makes you cum, he's talking you through it, encouraging the rippling feeling within your body with little, "that's it, there we go,"s
when you finally come down from each and every high, he's telling you how good you did and how well you responded to him. only it's followed with a soft question, an ask about your climax and if you, "want another one?" querying whether you have it in you for just one more.
Someone who handles her own business, doesn’t need help and does her job like a pro.
A strong woman who would go toe to toe with a man to prove a point as Jack watches on.
She walks around with confidence, charm and witt that would leave most men speechless
Because he knows that she comes home she loses it all, when she gets home she leaves all of that independence and strength at the door.
Because she needs him to open then jar that’s just a little too tight, reach the pasta on the top shelf she would usually climb on the counter for and be the lap she falls into every night curling up as small as she can be.
To be the man that turns her into a sobbing, whimpering mess when he is balls deep inside of her as he pins her hands above her head as he says “oh it’s too much? - no I don’t think so, I think you’re gonna take it like a big girl”
The man who has he legs pressed to her chest while he fucks he so deep she can see stars, his rough thumb stroking over her pulsing little clit while she’s whines under his touch as he tells her “oh that’s a good girl- doing so well “
He likes them strong because then when she gets home she needs him to take over, to have her bent over, face pressed against the sheets while he fills her with warm ropes of cum as she writhes and mewls at every thrust, begging for more.
this is literally perfect. bc yes, she's safe with a capable and trustworthy man who loves her, which means that she can choose to put her walls down and not wear herself down by fighting to do everything independently 24/7.
and the smut??? absolutely divine 🤌 i'm leaving my independence, strength, and clothes at the door.
Right now all I can think about is olderbf!Jack having a problem keeping his hands still.
You’d be sat on the sofa together, hands hands would constantly be tracing little lines up and down your legs.
Walking down the street his arm woukd be over your shoulder, his hand just squeezing your shoulder every now and then
When your tanning in the back yard, his fingers are constantly squishing and kneading your thighs, his thumb working its way up to your clothed slit every now and then just to tease.
When your bed together, both just scrolling on your phones, his fingers just make their way to your mouth, he doesn’t think about it. His fingertips just rolling over your lips.
And when he’s fucking you his hands are all over you, frantic like he can’t decide which part to grab or squeeze first. He just loves how your body feels, your soft skin, smooth legs and the way you squish under his grasp
SUMMARY: A trip to the ED, a retirement meal, and a phone call with Robby. One leaves you up close and personal with your neighbor, one has Phoebe spilling secrets like it's an Olympic sport, and another has Jack realizing he's got a fucking crush on the single mom in apartment seventeen.
WARNINGS: medical inaccuracies (IUD removal and replacement), a very awkward encounter, Phoebe being a blabber mouth, some very inappropriate and unprofessional thoughts, small amount of alcohol consumption, everyone thirsting over Jack, talks of Robby and his sabbatical (aka his mental health crisis), swearing and flirting!!!!
A/N: I had the best time writing this chapter!! It is another long one but I promise every word and encounter is necessary. First person to spot the hidden reference wins a big old smooth from me <3 Also, next chapter is Phoebe's birthday party so be prepared for a whole lot of chaotic toddlers and a bunch of moms thirsting over Jack.
PAIRING: Jack Abbot x Single Mom!Reader
WORD COUNT: 7.1k
PREV. PART — SERIES MASTERLIST
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
You’ve been trying to ignore the pain for the last two hours.
Bubble baths, heat packs, even yoga as a last-ditch effort to try to relieve the intense ache and stabbing in your lower abdomen. But the pain has grown exponentially, almost crippling you into a fetal position in the middle of your bed.
In hindsight, you know you should’ve taken yourself to the ER hours ago, had them check you over to make sure it’s nothing serious. But you assumed it was just a heavy period making its appearance for the first time in three years. Now, you have a sneaky suspicion that your IUD has either shifted or embedded itself into your uterine walls.
Not ideal. A bit scary, to be quite frank.
And of course, it’s something that has to happen on one of the only real nights you get off to yourself. Not a night where you expect a call or text because Phoebe wants to come home. A night where, if anything, Phoebe has most likely begged your mom to just move in with her.
You have to laugh at the thought, but the movement and contractions of your stomach only heightens the pain. You’ve bled through two pads and pairs of pyjamas, soiled your sheets well enough that you’ve had to throw them out.
Perhaps it’s dramatic to call an ambulance to get you to the ER, but you’re unsure you’ll be able to stomach getting up, let alone driving yourself the short ten minute trek to PTMC. You consider leaving it, just ride it out for as long as you can. But the thought of Phoebe coming home tomorrow afternoon to a crippled and possibly bleeding out mother…
A pathetic groan follows your movements as you force yourself to sit up on the bed, allow yourself a moment for composure and a silent prayer to the Universe to just make it stop.
Much like all other times, the Universe doesn’t listen. And the moment you stand, you’re met with that horrifying sensation of blood pooling between your legs and soaking into three pads you’ve stacked in your underwear.
What should take you fifteen minutes to get ready and arrive at PTMC actually ends up taking you almost an hour. The only reprieve you are offered is a slightly quiet waiting room. Twenty to thirty people at most occupy the chairs, all too exhausted or pain-ridden to offer up much conversation between each other.
You don’t look much better than them. Pyjamas, messy hair, face bare of anything other than a grimace. Every step toward the check-in desk takes you back to when you first had Phoebe. When, for two weeks, you could only just shuffle your feet across the floor to get around after the emergency surgery.
You’re clutching your abdomen when you finally reach the desk. An older woman sits on the opposite side of the protective screen, dark hair pulled back into a bun, kind eyes that assess you and a soft voice that asks for your name and what’s brought you in.
“I think my IUD has moved or embedded.” You manage to get out through gritted teeth, hunching slightly over the tall ledge as you take in her name badge.
Lupe’s head tilts sympathetically to the side. “Can you describe your symptoms and pain for me? When did it start?”
“Uh, about four hours ago. Very heavy bleeding, the pain is both an ache and a stabbing sensation. Feels kind of like someone’s got a chainsaw on my uterus.” You try to laugh through the pain, but when your stomach tenses you’re met with a blinding sensation of agony that you struggle to blink away.
Lupe types on the keyboard of her computer, side-glancing you as if checking you’re not about to pass out and smack your head on the ledge or marble floor. “Any nausea or dizziness, hon?”
You nod, swallowing on a dry throat. “I think that’s only due to the pain, though.”
Lupe finishes typing before the printer beside her begins to rumble and she’s slipping you a write-up through the small gap beneath the safety screen. “There’s free sanitary products in the restroom. Take a seat, hon. Someone should be with you shortly.”
You offer a weak smile in thanks and she returns one with understanding.
It’s painful to sit but even more so to stand. After ten minutes, you’re slouching in the most uncomfortable chair you’ve ever had the displeasure of using. Another ten minutes and you’re shuffling to the public restroom before you can leak through yet another article of clothing.
It’s only twenty minutes later, when you’re trying to remember labor breathing techniques that the door opens and a gentle voice is calling your name. It takes you a moment to reach her but she waits patiently, an understanding look on her face through pursed lips.
She introduces herself as Dr. McKay as she slowly guides you to a curtained off section in triage. It’s not until she’s helping you onto the bed with steady hands that you take notice of two other doctors standing behind her.
Dr. McKay follows your line of sight. “We’re typically a teaching hospital, if you’re okay with two of our students observing tonight?”
You wave her off. “I’m a mom, I lost my dignity a while ago. The more the merrier.” You manage to joke but when a laugh slips from your lips, your face scrunches in pain and your body curls involuntarily.
Dr. McKay grins through a sympathetic look, sitting at the stool to the side of you. “Trust me, I know all about that,” she reassures, turning back to the students at the foot of the bed.
“This is Kwon and Ogilvie. They’re in their third and fourth year as med students and getting a little taste of the night shift. We’ve read through your patient intake report, but do you mind explaining again what’s going on? You think your IUD has moved or embedded?”
You nod on a sigh. “Yeah, the pain and bleeding started around four hours ago. I’ve leaked through pads and clothes maybe three times since it started.”
McKay hums, snapping on a pair of gloves and lifting your pyjama shirt to expose your abdomen. “Copper or hormonal IUD?”
“Hormonal. I only got it about three and a half years ago. A few months after I had my daughter.”
She hums. “Any dizziness or nausea?”
Your head bobs, a wince slipping from you when she pushes slightly lower on your mid-section. “A little dizziness, a lot of nausea. I think it’s just because of the pain, though.”
Kwon moves to your side, as she slips her hands into a pair of blue gloves and reaches for the thermometer. It beeps, flashes green. “Temp is steady at 98.96.”
McKay moves back, discards her gloves into the trash and slides back over to you. “Are pain and bleeding usual for you?”
You shake your head before she can finish her question. “No, my cramps and monthly periods stopped a month after I got it inserted.”
She nods, a distant look growing in her eyes for barely a moment. “Alright, we’ll do a pelvic exam to check if we can identify the device to rule out any embedding. If it has shifted, we’ll get you ready for an ultrasound to find out what’s going on before attempting removal.”
You nod with a wince when Dr. McKay stands, reaching over for a robe that she hands to you with a sympathetic smile. “We’ll step out for a moment while you change and get comfortable and then we’ll be back shortly.”
You hear her speak with the students as they pull the curtain closed behind them, questioning something about initial assessments but you zone out when the pain begins to grow. It’s five minutes later when you're situated in a gown on the bed when the three of them return.
“Our student doctor Kwon is going to conduct your pelvic if you’re okay with that?”
You hum at McKay’s words, not really caring who is going to be all up in your vaginal canal so long as the issue is resolved. You weren’t lying when you said your dignity left when you fell pregnant almost five years ago.
Joy Kwon doesn't offer any pleasantries as she slides her hands into a pair of gloves and positions herself on the stool between your legs at the foot of the bed.
Ogilvie stands behind her, looking anywhere but at your parting thighs. You move silently, without guidance. Knees up, dropping them to your sides, heels together. McKay grins at the sight when you fist your hands and shove them beneath your back, in line with your coccyx.
You catch her amused look and offer an exhausted grin in return. “I know my way around these exams.”
Kwon cocks a brow as you meet her gaze again, a flicker of amusement washing across her eyes. It’s fleeting, but you catch it nonetheless. She reaches for the speculum, applying the translucent lubricant to the equipment.
Your eyes are closed, an overwhelming wave of pain washing over and you crippling any sense of peace you had begun to find. It’s so intense that you miss the voices from outside the curtain, only just catching McKay informing you that an attending is going to observe Kwon’s exam.
“Yeah, no worries. Let’s call it a party.” The words are rushed on a pained laugh from your lips before McKay is slipping outside before returning with another.
When your eyes flicker open and a shaky exhale leaves your lungs, the air gets suddenly stuck in your throat at the sight before you.
“This is Dr. Abbot.”
Jack stares at you with wide eyes and raised brows, his gaze involuntarily trailing down to your parted knees before snapping his eyes to the wall on the other side of the room. Your cheeks feel hot, your heart is thumping against your ribs and you feel like you can’t fucking breathe.
There is no fucking way this is happening right now. Jack is barely able to meet your gaze again as he tries his hardest to offer the most professional nod and tight-lipped smile you’ve ever seen.
“Fancy seeing you here, neighbor.” You can’t help it. The words fall from your lips before you can think twice, the tension in the room that the others are only now privy of is too much to remain silent under.
McKay’s eyes dart from you to Jack, lashes hitting her brows in shock. “Neighbor?”
Jack clears his throat, scratching at the nape of his neck in a nervous tick you’ve never seen before. He blinks at you, lips parting and closing again. You never imagined him to be anything other than confident and composed.
Bored with the conversation, Kwon moves closer and lines the speculum with your entrance, a hiss falling from your lips at the cool contact of the lubricant.
“Take a deep breath, you’ll feel some pressure.” She advises, a bit dully. Like she’d rather be anywhere but here. You feel the fucking same.
Ogilvie frowns at the speculum, eyes darting from the tool to between your legs. Like he’s assessing the physics of the exam. “Is that going to fit?”
“I can get Shen, instead.” Jack offers abruptly, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. Perhaps he’s trying to find a way out for himself, maybe he’s the one that’s uncomfortable with the situation he’s accidentally walked into. But the thought of yet another doctor staring between your legs is the last thing you want right now. Your eyes squeeze shut in pure mortification.
Your hot, widowed neighbor has just seen you in the most unappealing way you could ever imagine.
“Nope. Four doctors getting an eyeful is enough. I don’t need a fifth.” You keep your eyes closed, unable to bear the thought of meeting Jack’s gaze right now and a wince passes through your teeth when Kwon slowly pushes the instrument into your vaginal canal.
You blink up at the ceiling through quick breaths, discomfort turning into pain as you struggle to stretch around it. Kwon peeks up between your parted knees, noting the discomfort in your expression, can feel the resistance of the instrument and casts a quick glance to McKay.
“Did you have a vaginal birth?” she asks you softly.
You laugh through gritted teeth. “Emergency caesarean, baby.”
Kwon sighs, slowly retracting the speculum and placing it back on the tray. You don’t need to look at it to know it’s covered in blood. “I thought it felt a bit tight.” She comments.
Your eyes bulge open at that with another mortified laugh. But when your gaze snags on the tool she originally tried to use, you blink rapidly. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever had inside of you before. Including any and all speculums you’ve had the displeasure of being examined with. “You thought that was going to fit!?”
“I didn’t think it would. I’m happy to try instead with a Pederson.” Ogilvie offers with a wide smile and you’re far too quick to shake your head for someone who was, at the beginning, happy for students to observe and conduct the exam.
“No! That’s okay, Dr. McKay—”
“Dr. McKay, there’s a phone call for you. An officer from the PPD.”
“Are you fucking kidding me!?” She doesn’t excuse herself. Just tears off her gloves and stomps through the curtain. Leaving you with two student doctors and Jack fucking Abbot.
Wearily, your gaze meets his again; your cheeks aflame and a stillness in his shoulders that makes you slightly more uncomfortable than the idea of Ogilvie spreading you open. Ultimately, you know Jack is your best option out of the three.
More experience, kind and compassionate. Familiar, but maybe that’s not a pro in this situation. No. Definitely not a pro to have your fucking neighbor inspect your cervix. Yet you don’t look away from him. You don’t mean for your gaze to be pleading, don’t mean to ask the silent question that you do but Jack hears it anyway, answers it with a subtle dip of his head and he’s slipping into a pair of blue gloves and clearing his throat before taking Kwon’s position.
“Asking the patient what birth they had should always be asked before conducting a pelvic exam.” Jack notes, eyes flickering to Kwon in a brief moment of silent scolding before he reaches for the other, much thinner probe.
You don’t miss the way Kwon shoots a glare at Ogilvie with slightly threatening eyes. He has the right to look sheepish and a little scared before slowly stepping on foot closer to the foot of the bed.
“That would be my fault, Dr. Abbot,” he admits nervously. “She said she was a mom, so I assumed the birth was vaginal and the largest speculum would be most appropriate.”
You don’t mean to scoff when you laugh, but you do. Partly in offence for all women across the fucking world that this guy assumes all moms to have loose vaginas. The other part because if he had been watching Dr. McKay when she was checking your abdomen, he would’ve seen the small but visible scar just above your pubic bone.
Jack blinks as he unwraps the sterile tool and smears a small amount of lubricant over it. “In that case, I highly recommend you brush up on your knowledge of a woman’s anatomy.”
Ogilvie takes the hint. He tears off his gloves and slips past the curtain to do exactly what Jack has said. A wave of guilt begins to ride over you but it’s also quite quickly replaced with a bigger wave of relief.
Kwon turns to you with a thin grin, like she’s pleased with his lack of presence. “Sorry about him. I don’t think he’s seen a vagina since he came out of one.”
You almost choke on your laugh at that, wincing quickly after as your body locks up with another crippling cramp of pain. Jack’s gaze flicks up to your face, assessing the furrow in your brow, the flush to your clammy skin.
“You doing okay, neighbor?” His voice lacks its usual flirty tone; gravelly now and laced with a thickness he can’t quite shift. But you can hear the lightness he tries to offer, the reassurance he doesn't speak that this is okay and you are okay and you don’t need to be embarrassed that he’s seeing you like this.
“Oh, just peachy.” You snip back through gritted teeth, fisting the thin cotton sheets beneath you.
Jack blinks his way to go between your thighs, jaw clenched and having to remind himself to separate any personal sensations right now from his professional responsibility. It’s one thing to think about you being laid in the position, but it’s a completely other thing to have you like it for an entirely different reason.
Jack tries to block out the actual sight of you. Because in truth, there isn’t anything erotic about this, not even in the slightest. You’re in pain and bloody and hurting, and you’re trusting him to fix the issue. He feels sick with himself for how much he’s internally struggling at the situation.
“I’ve done this plenty of times, promise you’re in good hands.” He clears his throat, lines the speculum with the entrance of your vaginal canal and very slowly eases it between your walls.
There’s no pain this time, only a slight hint of discomfort but that’s mostly at the cold gel. You can’t help the cock of your brow at Jack’s words. “You examine a lot of your neighbor’s cervixes?”
He laughs at that, breathily enough that you can feel it ghost the side of your thigh. You swallow, blink up at the ceiling. His laughter helps ease this fucking awkwardness and embarrassment of having to dig around in his neighbors vagina. Doesn’t do enough to stop it from haunting you moving forward.
“No, you would be my first.” Jack promises, and you’re foolish enough to let yourself believe that comment has a double meaning to it.
“I’m honored.” You mutter it sarcastically and brave the thought of looking down to the foot of the bed.
You’re met with the sight of Jack peering between your legs, eyes slightly squinted as he works. Kwon looks just as invested as Jack does, handing him another tool when he silently opens his palm toward her.
“You said you bled through clothes and menstrual pads?” Kwon asks.
You nod, trying to remember not to tense or hold your breath. “Yeah, why? I’m not haemorrhaging or something am I?”
“No.” Jack assures you with a firm tone, catching the lick of anxiety growing in your voice. He doesn’t move his head but his eyes flick up to meet yours and your entire stomach turns molten at the sight.
You can’t look away and despite your best efforts, you do find yourself holding your breath.
“You’re not haemorrhaging and it’s definitely not embedded, which is good. Looks like it’s just shifted slightly which has caused the pain and the bleeding. Did it start tonight?”
You nod, watching Jack slip into a fresh pair of gloves and reach across the room for a small machine. “Well, I’ve felt a little uncomfortable for a couple days. Just light cramps that I usually get when I should be due on my cycle. But the bleeding and pain started tonight, yeah.”
Jack nods as he approaches your side, a look of reassurance on his face as he turns on the ultrasound screen and reaches for the gel. Kwon moves silently, offering you a large sheet and gesturing to cover your lower part and pull up the hem of the hospital robe to reveal your abdomen.
“I’m just gonna check everything is okay internally and then Kwon should be able to do a quick removal and replacement.”
You nod, loosing a breath as you try to relax yourself as Jack presses the transducer to your lower abdomen. He moves it slowly, tenderly with his touch; not using too much pressure or pushing on your bladder like the midwives did when you were pregnant.
He keeps his eyes on the screen and you realize you definitely have a thing for doctors. Or more specifically, this doctor.
“You bring Pheebs with you?” He asks softly, offering a brief glance to your face before returning his attention to the screen again.
“No, she’s having a sleepover with my parents tonight.” You say softly and you don’t miss the fond grin that spreads across his lips. It warms your heart so much that you can’t help but subtly mirror it.
“How’s her tummy now?”
A laugh bubbles up your throat. The irony of him being the one to check you over when only a week ago he was checking your daughter. “Yeah, good. Back to shitting like a pro again.”
Jack huffs in laughter, taking one more moment to assess the ultrasound before removing the probe from your skin and cleaning it off.
“Your uterine walls are thicker than usual. They're shedding, which is why you're bleeding the way you are. Totally normal. Other than that, ultrasound is clear,” he concludes with a smile that you can finally meet.
That awkwardness and tension has finally begun to ease and disappear. Right now, you’re not neighbors. He is your doctor and you are his patient.
“So, everything looks okay?” You ask. Jack nods, eyes on you again with that intensity you’ve started to grow used to.
“Yeah, you look perfect.” It’s slightly raspy when he speaks, both the tone and his words causing a flush to burn across your entire body.
It feels like air has trapped itself in your lungs and Jack’s shoulders stiffen as if he’s just realized the words he’s used and the tone he’s spoken them in.
From the foot of your bed, Kwon’s slightly uncomfortable eyes flicker between you and Jack, blinking as if that’ll clear the air as to what the fuck she’s witnessing right now. Before she can open her mouth with a remark, before Jack can splutter an apology or a distraction, the curtain moves and McKay is slipping back into the area.
Jack steps away from the bed, lips pursed into a firm line and he’s tugging off the gloves and moving toward the curtain. “She’s all cleared for removal and replacement.” He tells McKay, voice slightly strained.
You can’t help the amusement that starts to curl within your lower belly, a grin stretching across your face and Jack meets your gaze, mirroring it a bit bashfully before slipping past the curtain. Leaving you with your legs spread, heart thumping, and delusional thoughts in your mind that he found this procedure just as eye-opening as you did.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
It’s late Sunday morning by the time Jack’s done with his shift, exhausted and almost limping with how sore his leg is. He stayed late. Again. And his knee is protesting at the idea of potentially having to do it once more on his next shift.
It’s been a slight struggle now that Robby is on sabbatical. Jack’s left with the responsibility of staying later or starting earlier to aid Al-Hashimi with the influx of patience as the weather has gotten hotter. The sun comes out and people grow stupid. And Jack has to work through the pain of his prosthetic growing sweaty and unstable.
On top of that, he’s been riddled with something he can only compare to high-school level anxiety. Every time he’s walked through the main doors of the apartment complex for the past week, Jack’s been fucking nervous. Anxious that he may stumble into an awkward encounter with you after performing your pelvic exam.
It’s stupid, he knows. You’re both adults and Jack’s a professional, for fuck’s sake. He offered to get you another attending, and you declined. You had smiled—grinned—at him when he left you in McKay’s capable hands. And yet he had not heard from you since.
No text, no collisions in the hall. Not that you owe him anything, he knows that. And it’s not even like you texted religiously before your night in the Pitt. But Jack can feel something strained between you. Perhaps you’re embarrassed by the situation. That your neighbor had pried you open to check for an embedded IUD. Or maybe he had made you uncomfortable with that stupid fucking slip he made when he said you looked perfect.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
Jack takes the elevator to the third floor, his leg far too achy to brave the stairs after being on his feet for the past nineteen hours. When he makes it inside his apartment, he’s not sure what’s worse. The deafening loneliness or Robby’s contact popping up as an incoming call on his phone.
He answers before he even closes his apartment door.
“You’re alive, then.”
Robby scoffs a breathy laugh down the line at the greeting, something Jack can’t help but smirk at. He makes his way straight to the couch and falls into it, tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear while he works to remove his prosthetic.
“Yeah, well… who would’ve thought nature could be so refreshing.”
Jack hums, half listening with a grunt until he slips the metal from his knee and exhales a breath of relief. “You doin’ okay, though? Haven’t heard from you for two weeks.”
“What? Miss me already?” Robby snides.
It pulls at the corners of Jack’s mouth in the form of a gentle smile. This is good. He’s cracking jokes, his voice doesn’t sound strangled and pained. He sounds better than he did when he left two weeks ago, but Jack is not a fool. He’s all too familiar with what Robby is experiencing, he’s danced toward the line one too many times himself.
“What are you even doing with yourself out there?” Jack says instead.
He can almost hear Robby shrugging through the line. He’s quiet for a few moments, likely contemplating, deciding how much or how little he wants to share. “How’s the hospital?”
Jack scoffs, shakes his head and leans back into the couch, allowing his eyes to close for a moment. “Work is not your concern until you’re back from sabbatical. Not a day sooner.”
Robby grows quiet again and they stay like that for a little while. No words spoken, just breaths shared down the line; both basking in the quiet comfortability of one another. Calming, familiar. Like moments shared on the roof after a particularly long shift.
“Spoke to McKay yesterday.” It’s Robby that breaks that silence. “Said you performed a pelvic exam on your neighbor.”
Jack can hear his smirk, the teasing churn in his voice. He takes a deep breath and then a laugh is spluttering from his chest; exasperated and exhausted.
“Brother, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” Jack admits roughly.
Robby doesn’t push, gives him a chance to add more if he wants to. He doesn’t. So Robby approaches carefully.
“You like her?”
The question makes Jack pulse skip. “Barely know her.”
“Not what I asked.”
Jack hesitates. It’s a lie, really. He does know you. Perhaps not in the most stereotypical way, but he does. He knows your love lost, your hatred for the way your ex treats your daughter, how your mind works when you create the excellence that you do.
Deeper than that, he knows your heart beats solely for your daughter. He knows Phoebe. Her chaos and easy charm, knows how you’ve bled your personality into her unintentionally.
Jack swallows. Robby waits.
“I don’t know what it is. There’s just—there’s something there. Something about her…”
“It’s not just her, though, Jack. She has a daughter. Package deal. Big deal.”
Jack hums, an involuntary smile curling on the corners of his lips. “She’s the coolest kid I’ve ever met, man. She makes her mom sing her AC/DC as a lullaby.”
Had they been on the roof, Jack would see the softness that smoothes the worry on Robby’s face. He’d see the quiet understanding in his eyes as he listens to every word, as he understands why there’s a certain dullness in Jack’s voice. A reservation.
Robby takes a heavy breath. “You don’t have to feel guilty about that, Jack.”
It makes Jack wince. Because he does feel guilty. Whenever his mind wanders to the thought of you, he’s crushed with an immense wave of guilt. Like he’s betraying his wife, like he’s losing sight of her in the fogginess of his memory.
Maybe that’s what scares him so much. He’s been with people since. One night stand, casual flings to keep the loneliness and demons of the night away. Physically invested and emotionally detached. It’s different this time. With you. Because there’s no physicality there, just this undeniable pull he feels whenever he looks at you, thinks of you.
It’s deeper than a surface level attraction. It fucking terrfies him because he hardly knows you. Not truly, not in the ways he wants to.
“You’re allowed to find happiness somewhere else. With someone else.”
The phone slips to rest on Jack's shoulder as his gaze falls down to the hands resting in his lap, the silver band that still wraps around his ring finger.
Time doesn’t heal all wounds. Time just lets you grow around them.
Jack changes the subject fairly quickly. They spend the next ten minutes talking about nothing much before Jack forces Robby to promise he won’t leave it two weeks to reach out again. He showers, changes, takes some time to tend to the ache in his knee before brewing a coffee and making some eggs and taking them out to the balcony.
He hears it the second the door opens.
Music. Singing. Laughter. Loud and carefree and happy.
It pulls a smile to his face immediately as he sits at the table and watches across the gap between your balconies. Jack sips on his coffee, admires the sound he’s blessed enough to hear, the fleeting catches he gets of you and Phoebe running around or dancing on the kitchen island.
The sun is warm on his skin, the breeze soothing the ache of his tight skin where a limb once was and he feels himself slowly beginning to relax.
“Morning neighbor!”
His eyes peek open, a palm out above his eyes to cover the blinding sun. Jack blinks and you’re there. Standing on your balcony, one hand on the railing and the other is waving above your head. Calling out to him, like that night last week didn’t happen.
So you’re not embarrassed and he hasn’t made you uncomfortable. He can’t see you properly, too far a distance but he can make out the wide grin you offer.
Jack throws a hand up to reciprocate your wave and you jab a thumb over your shoulder. “What do you think!?” You call back, and it takes Jack a moment to realize you’re asking about the music.
His hand drops from the air and moves to cup the side of his mouth. “I love The Smiths!” He calls back.
You lean closer, he’s sure he can see your brows pinching as you call out to him again. “What!?”
Jack huffs a laugh, leaning forward in his seat and sitting up straighter. He cups both hands around his mouth now and bellows across the space. “I said I love The Smiths!”
He watches you throw your head back in laughter and suddenly wishes Robby never called. Because then he wouldn’t be so aware of the feeling in his chest whenever he looks at you. He wouldn’t have had to acknowledge and verbalize the turmoil that’s been brewing in his head from the moment he first laid eyes on you and Phoebe.
You don’t say anything else. He watches you retreat back inside and you don’t come back out. The balcony door is closed sometime ten minutes later. And within thirty minutes, the music stops completely and Jack’s left in that horrible, aching silence again.
After his eggs and coffee, he too is returning inside, leaving the dishes in the sink. He only allows himself a quick shower when the coffee begins to perk him up and decides it’s probably best to run some errands and grab some groceries before he inevitably crashes and sleeps for the rest of the day.
He dresses in a black t-shirt and a pair of beige chino shorts. It’s not something he’ll ever really admit outloud, but Jack hates the summer. He hasn’t always, but in more recent years, especially since losing his leg, he does. There’s a choice he has to make every time the heat begins to pick up in Pittsburg.
Wear trousers and ignore the sweat and swelling on the tight skin of his knee, or wear shorts and ignore the lingering stares of the general public. He should be used to it by now, it’s been well over a fucking decade since he lost his leg. But in recent years, without his wife’s reassurance that they’re curious glances and not judgmental stares, Jack can’t seem to decipher a difference between the two anymore.
Still, he knows he has to take care of himself. And with the ache still settling deep in his bones from his earlier shift, he’s aware that shorts are his best bet. It’s just after he clips his prosthetic back on again that there’s an uncoordinated knocking at the door.
The short relief of letting his leg breath allows Jack to move a bit more fluidly now, limp barely noticeable as he makes his way to the front door and slowly eases it open. He’s not offered much of a chance to check who his visitors are before a small body is barrelling into limbs.
Jack only just manages to catch himself by gripping a hand on the doorframe as he blinks down at a small head of curls of a three-year-old who is blinking in wonder at his prosthetic. He faintly hears your voice, soft but firm and scolding Phoebe for barrelling into him.
The child beams up at him, excitement laced in her chubby features as she points to his leg. “I like your leg.”
It makes Jack blink, pulls him back to the present where a throb begins to form around his knee and he grins at her, reaching down to readjust the prosthetic that the kid has somehow almost displaced.
He misses the way your brows raise as you look at him. You’d never realized he had a prosthetic and you can't help the way your head tilts at the sight of his arms straining when he readjusts the straps.
“SWAT?” you ask, voice thick as his veins pop and muscles flex beneath freckled skin.
Jack huffs out a laugh, pretends he can’t hear his heart in his ears and the fact that you’ve seen his fucking leg and you’re not being awkward about it. “Military.”
Phoebe watches him intently as surprise flickers across your face. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises, Dr. Abbot. Thank you for your service.”
He rises to his full height at the flirty tone of your voice, letting his eyes rove over your body from the painted toes to the hair on your head. A beautiful sage green summer dress kisses your skin. Cinched at your waist, short but puffy sleeves, a neckline that teases the swell of your breasts and the hem stops just mid-calf.
Jack swallows, admires your face. Hair pinned back in a flaw clip, messy and yet presentable. Your lashes look fuller and darker, a brightness to your face with makeup that doesn’t hide but accentuates your natural features. It momentarily knocks him breathless.
He’s never seen you like this before.
“I could say the same about you.” Jack’s voice is low and raspy when he speaks. It prickles your skin in buzzes of excitement, spreads a warmth beneath the flesh that charges your blood.
Of course, Jack notices. The way your lashes flutter, how your lips part. How, despite the warmth, goosebumps prickle your skin. A smirk kicks at the corner of his mouth and he looks away, back down to Phoebe.
She wears something similar, a blue summer dress that stops below the knee. Her hair is twirled up into a bun, little white sandals on her feet. It’s the most presentable he’s ever seen the kid look. And from the way she pulls at the dress and rolls her shoulders, he can tell immediately that it was a fight getting her to wear it.
The fondness in that crevice of his heart aches at the thought.
“Where are you two off to, in your pretty dresses?” He directs the question at Phoebe, who offers a twirl despite her hatred for the clothing.
“Grandma is dying.” She chirps.
Jack’s brows shoot to his hairline at the same time as you whipping your head down to your daughter. “What? No. Grandma is retiring, baby. We’re going for brunch with her company.” You correct her quickly, blinking profusely and both you and Jack are confused as to how she got those two words, of all things, mixed up.
You clear your throat, taking a step closer to the threshold that Phoebe has occupied. Jack notices the movement from his peripheral and sets his burning gaze on you again. You smile at him, a bit sheepishly and push your arms out to offer him the tray of cupcakes he had missed.
They’re decorated with multiple colors of messy frosting, some smothered in sprinkles and others decorated with some diced fruit. Jack blinks at you.
“We made cupcakes for Phoebe’s birthday tomorrow, and we made you some as a thank you. You know, for helping her tummy and then… well—mine.” You finish on a nervous laugh, one that Jack reciprocates.
But he takes the dish from your open palms, a revert thank you falling from his tongue and he lets his finger tips brush against yours as he does. So this was a peace offering of sorts, a way to clear the air. He offers a glance to Phoebe. “It’s your birthday?”
Phoebe nods. “In the morning, and I’m having a birthday party at my house, Jack! Will you come?”
His eyes widen slightly at the request, casting a quick glance to you. You shrug a shoulder, pursing your lips to hide a smile and when he looks back down at Phoebe, she’s got her palms together in a prayer-like position with far too convincing pleading eyes.
Jack breathes through his nose, smiles fondly at the young girl. “Absolutely, I wouldn’t want to spend my day off doing anything else.” he promises.
You smile at the sight, at how Phoebe brushes a sprinkle off Jack’s prosthetic that fell from the tray. He watches her just as intently, but when she returns her attention to the chipped polish on her nails, it’s like he loosens a breath.
“Everyone’s coming by at like 5 ish. But come whenever.”
Jack nods, allows his gaze to drift over you again. “You both look beautiful.”
There’s a reverence in his tone, like it’s a physical need that you believe him when he says it. All you can do is smile; soft and shy. You reach for Phoebe, tell her to say goodbye and slowly guide her away from Jack’s door and down the hall.
Of course, he watches you both go. Phoebe’s hand in yours, your slow steps and her quick skips. He’s about to go back inside when Phoebe halts abruptly, tears her hand from yours and turns to race back to Jack, giggling his name like she needs to tell him something exciting.
She stops by his feet again, he watches as you wait for her with a sigh at the other end of the hall.
“Jack! I told Mommy I want to be a doctor when I grow up, just like you!”
He blinks down at her, feels his throat constrict as she admits something that causes so much turmoil within him. “Yeah?” he rasps, clears his throat and bends slightly at the waist. “I think you’ll make a fantastic doctor, Pheebs.”
Her toothy smile is wide and excitable, it’s almost impossible for Jack not to mirror it.
“Before, I wanted to be a pop star so I could marry Harry Styles. But now, I wanna be a doctor.” She states it so matter-of-factly, like she’s discussing something as simple as the weather.
It makes Jack chuckle. “You don’t wanna marry Harry Styles anymore?”
Phoebe shrugs, makes a small noise of contemplation. “Mommy said she’d fight me for him!” She giggles.
Jack cocks a brow, dares a glance down the hall to you where you’re texting someone on your phone as you wait. “Oh, so Mommy wants to marry Harry too?”
Phoebe steps closer, looks a bit conspiratorial as she whispers her next words. “She said Harry will be a silver fox when I’m old enough to marry him… What is a silver fox?”
He blinks at that, unsure as to how they’ve crept into this territory and why the kid even knows the saying of a silver fox. He blubbers momentarily. “Um… it’s someone who’s old but….pretty.”
Phoebe grins, chin tucked to her chest with wide eyes and raised brows. The conspiratorial look has morphed into something far too mischievous for Jack’s liking. This kid is going to be so much fucking trouble when she’s older.
“Mommy said you’re a silver fox.” There’s a slyness to her tone, like she knows what she’s doing. That she absolutely should not be repeating whatever it is she’s heard you say.
Little shit.
Jack stills, lips parted into a soft O shape and he blinks at Phoebe. An amused huff of hair slips past his lips “Oh, I don't think Mommy meant for me to know that.”
“Why not? She told my Aunt Bella so. It's a compromise.”
Jack’s brow raises again, though this time in amusement. “You mean complement?”
Phoebe nods at that, moving even closer now. She reaches on her tip toes and cups her small hands around Jack’s ear. “My mommy is a silver fox.”
He laughs harder at that, pulls away to get a look at her face and he shakes his head, rubs at his eye. “Your mommy isn’t old, kid.”
“But she is pretty.” It’s a statement, not a question. And she looks about ready to fight if Jack even dares to argue otherwise.
Not that he would. He couldn’t ever. He lets his eyes drift across the hall again, finding you standing in the same place. Jack feels his heart rate pick up, feels his skin grow warm and a rush of pure adoration and fondness overwhelms him.
“Yeah, Diva. Your mommy is very pretty.”
It makes him realize something very, very sobering.
Jack’s got a fucking crush on you.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
SERIES MASTERLIST — NEXT PART
Tag list for this series has grown way too big for me to keep up with so it’s unfortunately CLOSED. You can however follow the #apt.17 tag instead for updates on the series!
Ahhh okay, the flirting is beginning, Robby is trying to knock a lil bit of sense into him and Pheebs is just well... she's doing her thing LMAO. This is where things start to get super juicy and I promise you the next chapter will have lots and lots more of flirty playfulness. I would love to know your thoughts so far!! <3
Thank you very much for reading! Feedback really means a lot so I would love to hear your thoughts and ideas for where you think this will go!! Reblogs helps to boost stuff for more people to reach so if you enjoyed it please consider reblogging!!
I love this series so much omg. I loved this chapter so much (I have loved all of them, I'm just starting my reblog-reflection on the most recent chapter I've read lol). My quotes are focusing on the later parts of the chapter, but I really wanted to stress that I loved it all🫶
Ok, I didn't want to quote the whole paragraph, but your characterization of Jack and the internal battle of being comfortable with his leg during the summer was *chef's kiss* 🤌
And the mention of how it's even harder without his wife?? perfect!
I like your leg
I love the way this was written bc kids really do just say whatever they thing. And hell yeah, I raised an accepting and loving daughter who accepts everyone.
And then, when she brushes a sprinkle off his leg later? So simple, doesn't even think twice. She's just helping him out?? My sweet baby girl (I'm getting dangerously attached but that is 100% meant to be a compliment to you).
Where are you two off to, in your pretty dresses?
giggling and kicking my feet omg
Grandma is dying
the way Phoebe says it so casually 😭
Absolutely, I wouldn't want to spend my day off doing anything else.
Something about the way he really didn't need to say it was his day off, but he did anyway just gives me butterflies
What is a silver fox?
I know you say this later, but no one can convince me that she didn't know what she was doing from the very beginning of this conversation.
Jack's got a fucking crush on you.
If I may, this was the perfect fucking ending. Idk how you did it, maybe it's the fact that both characters have been admiring in every part, but the "crush" doesn't come off as childish at all. It fits the dynamic perfectly, and it's just so perfect. I don't even have the words to describe it, but I loved it.
✶ notary nsfw content. hello world.... i am back with a small drabble that i wrote in 10 minutes before i upload my long ahh fic
sam winchester is the most respectful, polite and soft spoken man you've ever met. the one you would be proud to introduce to your parents. but behind closed doors? he can be a fucking menace.
your high-pitched whimpers are filling the impala. hands clawing at his arms, his hair, abs, almost everywhere, as sam's on top of you pounding himself into you so deep, you can feel him in your stomach.
your parents think you're on a movie date. i mean, he showed up on your doorstep with flowers and puppy eyes, who would not believe him? who would think that he would have you begging for mercy for an hour straight?
the windows are getting fogged up, your body is probably on it's 10th orgasm, but sam is nowhere close to stopping.
"sam-" you choke on a moan, because sam is choking you himself. his hand is tight around your throat, just enough for your world and senses to narrow to only him and nothing else. and it's working. your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, you're seeing white, you almost can't breathe but it all just feels so good.
he leans down to capture your lips into another messy kiss, filled with tongue, spit and desire. you struggle to kiss him back, because you just can't seem to stop moaning.
"look at me" he says between his own groans and whimpers.
you try. you really try to. but it's all just too much. too much pleasure. your body's almost gone numb.
"fuckin' look at me or i'll stop" he urges now, just with a hint of desperation.
that's when you got desperate. "no- please" you whimpered, fluttering your eyes open.
and god, he has never looked better. sweaty, rosy cheeks, eyes filled with lust and desire. but then a small smirk appeared on his face and before you could register anything, his second hand wraps around your throat too and he starts rocking his hips impossibly fast inside you.
Jack Abbot notices, and he remembers. Without you having to tell him, he takes pride in knowing you very well.
He knows how you take your coffee, and has it waiting for you in the morning. He knows your order at your favorite restaurants and bars. He knows your favorite brand of wine, and keeps it stocked at his place.
He knows that when you get that look on your face, eyes glassy and low, that it’s time for bed, no matter how much you insist you want to stay up. He knows when something is bothering you, and won’t let up until you let him in. He knows that when you’re really focused on something, you bite on the inside of your cheek, deep in thought.
He knows that when he looks at you with those lovesick eyes and bites his lip, you can’t say no to him. That when your eyes linger on his hands, you want them on your body.
Jack also knows the sounds you make when you’re close to your limit. How your pussy clenches around him. He knows that when your breath changes to shallow, whimpering pants, he just has to keep the pressure up a little longer, before you completely come apart. He knows you love being called his good girl, his sweet angel, his baby. He knows that your favorite way to come back down is draped across him, face down in his chest.
i just need to make it known that jack abbot fucks nasty & kisses nastier. like he’s gripping your throat and slipping his tongue in & being soooooo sloppy while he fucks!!! it’s so passionate, he’s literally giving all of love to you— he wants to give you kisses to remind you that he loves you after he drills into you like he doesn’t <3
