ā old hollywood!jack abbot who hasn't been with anybody since his wife died. who has lived quietly in his sunset boulevard mansion since she passed, only emerging for filming and premieres
ā jack abbot who's making a new picture, and hasn't been able to find his lead. samira's not quite right for this part, though she wants it desperately. victoria either. he's considering his options when you fall into his lap, by way of hitchhiking
ā jack abbot who never stops to pick up strangers, but can't help the intrigue as he spots you standing on the side of the road, thumb jutted out almost hesitantly. who asks you all sorts of questions about where you're from (north carolina), what you're doing here (trying to make it as an actress), if you've had any luck (none so far)
ā jack abbot who's found his new lead, despite what the studio says. who does everything he can to prepare you for the world of film. from running lines, to picking you up in the morning, to showing you exactly how he wants the love scene filmed
ā jack abbot who does his absolute best to hide the fact that starlets are being killed on the warner brothers set, and that every day you're in the spotlight is a risk
ā jack abbot who finds himself in love for the first time in a decade. and with a brand new muse
(if you like this vibe pls stay tuned for my old hollywood jack series coming in summer <3 you can add yourself to the taglist for it in my pinned post!)
content: implied fem reader but can mostly be read as gn, large age gap implied (reader is in university classes), three (3) bonus nsfw headcanons, breeding kink, slight power imbalance (jack is your boss, he likes when you call him doctor), f!receiving oral, p in v
word count: 793
jack abbot, who knew he wanted to hire you the second he met you. you were a student, just needing some money to make it through school. your kind smile and attentiveness as he explained what he expected of you caught his attention, and he wanted to unpack everything about you.
jack abbot, who watches as you introduce yourself to the twins, who are a few months short of three years old. theyāre shy kids, preferring to keep to themselves than anything else. it doesnāt bother you, and you let them do their thing while you anticipate every need they might have. usually people try to provoke them, get them to talk, but you donāt. jacks face softens.
jack abbot, who pays way more than he should, and you both know it. on top of the already high starting pay, he insists on giving you raises every few months (āthe twins climbing stage was like hell, you deserve it.ā or āyou aced all your exams while being the best nanny to my kids, get yourself something nice.ā), while still giving you more than enough money when you decide to take the kids out to do something, or mention needing textbooks.
jack abbot, who canāt help but imagine a domestic life with you and his kids. you make it easy for him, allowing him to juggle his kids and work and whatever other āhobbyā he decides to pick up. you cook him dinner and pack his lunches, always with a steaming to-go mug of coffee waiting for him in the morning. sometimes two, if he mentions an overlapping shift with robby.
jack abbot, who misses you on your days off. of course he loves his time with the twins, theyāre his whole world, but thereās a certain light you bring to the house. the twins know it too, even if theyāre too young to understand it. they mumble your name, wondering where you are, and it pulls on jacks heartstrings.
jack abbot, who finds himself checking his phone more often while at work. any second of peace he gets, he hopes your name flashes across his screen. when it does, he opens it immediately, usually finding pictures or silly quotes from the kids or updates about where youāre taking them. sometimes, youāre in the pictures too and jack finds himself loving those ones the most. there you are, with his kids, all three of you smiling in a picture meant just for him.
jack abbot, who hates the way he feels so helpless around you. like a teenager all over again, unable to control his thoughts when you walk in the room. the jealousy he feels when you mention a date that night, and the (not so) guilty happiness when you tell him about how horrible it was the next day. he knows he could treat you better than any of those dates, and he thinks you know it too.
jack abbot, who finally asks you on a real date, while you're sitting on the couch watching a movie while the twins are in bed, a few minutes before he has to leave for work. you turn to him, shocked and heart racing. you say yes, of course, and even after you leave his mind is reeling. you go home and scream into a pillow, before texting him that you made it home safe (which he insists you do every time).
bonus nsfw ā.į
jack abbot, who gets off on you calling him ādr. abbotā. he canāt help it, not with the way your sweet mouth forms the words and that look in your eyes as you say it. it makes him want to bend you over right there, make you moan his name as he claims you as his. sometimes he swears you say it on purpose just to see the tightness form in his pants, but heās not one to complain.
jack abbot, who loves the sight of you with a baby in your arms. youāre at one of the twins daycare friends birthdays, holding a little sibling of one of the children. he takes you home that night and waits until after the twins are asleep to fuck you into his mattress, pressing himself as deep as he can inside you as he cums. (āgonna make you nice nd pregnant fāme, sweetheart. wanna carry my babies? wanna give the twins a little sibling?ā).Ā
jack abbot, who eats you out like heās been starving his whole life. one time you had told him that your ex boyfriend had never bothered to, quoting it as gross. from that moment on,Ā he makes sure you know how much he loves it. loves the way your hand grips his curls and your back arches against his face.
a/n: here's pt 2 to singledad!robby x teacher!reader :3 i hope you enjoy!! this little au is so fun to write and i got so carried away this one so apologies for it being so long...
content: just some little snippets/ headcanons about robby as a single dad with a daughter and his daughters teacher. robby is a shy obssessed man as he should be. reader is mostly gender neutral but is described as wearing a dress at one point. i don't think there are any other warnings!
word count: 1100... oops, sorry again lol
pt. 1
singledad!robby, whose daughter tells him that career day is coming up. she begs and pleads for him to go, so obviously he makes it happen. he shows up in fresh scrubs, stethoscope around his neck, and hands twiddling nervously in his pockets. and there you are, dressed in an outfit that almost takes his breath away. itās nothing revolutionary, i mean, you are at school right now, but he loves how you it is. his eyes keep drifting back to you as he talks about his career to the class as you listen intently. he likes seeing you in teacher mode, voice gentle and authoritative as you remind the kids to use their listening ears, but oh how he wishes he could get to know you outside of that.
singledad!robby, who listens to his daughter rave about you after school each day, going through all the activities you did. every time she brings home artwork for him, he can tell what parts you helped with and it causes his grin to widen.
singledad!robby, who recognizes that name on the patient board and immediately claims it before anyone else can. you're sitting on the edge of the patient bed, sniffling with a damp towel wrapped around your arm. your eyes widen as you see him, embarrassment flooding your body. you explain that you were making treats for the class, but somehow dropped one of the pans onto your arm as you were taking it out of the oven. he frowns as he assesses the damage.
singledad!robby, who gives you the best care, the kind that would make gloria think he suddenly cares about patient satisfaction scores. his hands are tender against your skin as he reassures you that youāll be okay. you relax a little, and let him do anything that he needs to. as he injects numbing medication, you wince, and he mumbles a quiet āgood girl, almost over, just relax.ā which immediately has the opposite effect and sends your heart rate soaring. he pretends not to notice the rapid beeping coming from the bedside monitor. you pretend not to see his ears turn pink as you answer with a āyes, sir.ā
singledad!robby, who grins as his daughter hands him a baggy of treats from you the next day, with a note attached. ādr. robby, thank you for taking care of me last night, and for all you do. i hope these cookies are good enough to thank you for the trouble you had to go through to patch me up.ā, it reads. he shakes his head, silently assuring you that he would do it all again, every day, if it meant getting that time with you. (the cookies are some of the best heās ever had in his life, and his daughter agrees as she sneaks a bite).
singledad!robby, who isnāt surprised that his daughter wants to invite her whole class to her birthday party, including you. they handwrite each invitation together, and she is buzzing as he drops her off the next morning to hand them out. you RSVP that evening, texting robby from your personal number instead of emailing him like he had expected. his heart beats a little faster as he likes the message and thinks of anything he could say to keep the conversation going.
singledad!robby, who just about loses his ability to breathe as he answers the door. youāre standing just in front of him, a beautiful dress hugging your body, hair and makeup done perfectly, and a gift bag in your arms. he lets you inside, guiding you to the living room with a light hand on your back that sends a shiver down your spine. he stays near you the whole time, watching as his daughters face lights up and practically explodes with excitement when she sees you. the hug you give her is tender and melts any negative feelings heās ever had.
singledad!robby, who canāt keep his eyes off of you, at all. your presence demands his attention, even if you have no idea. he canāt help but study you with the same amount of care he would use when treating a patient.Ā
singledad!robby, who is frowning the whole way to the school. itās his daughters last day of kindergarten, which not only means sheās growing up quicker than he could ever be okay with but also that she wonāt have you as a teacher anymore. it shouldnāt affect him like this, really, but he canāt help but feel like heās letting you go. his daughter is the last one in the classroom with you, he had called and told you that he would be late after the ED once again kept him past his shift (he ignored the butterflies in his stomach when he called you, and pretended not to notice dana giving him a look). of course, his daughter runs up and hugs him as soon as she sees him, arms wrapping around his legs as she already begins telling him all about the fun activities the class did on their last day. she goes back to her coloring, leaving you two to talk.
singledad!robby, who immediately thanks you for everything youāve done. you blush at the gratitude, explaining that itās what every teacher should do. (ābut youāre not just any teacher, are you?ā, he asks. your knees go weak.) you lean in close, whispering like itās a secret that only he has the privilege of knowing (āiām going to be a first grade teacher here, next year. if you wanted to request to have me as her teacher, i think we could make it happen.ā) and he hopes you canāt tell what your voice, your words, and the feeling of being so close, are doing to him.
singledad!robby, who can only make himself wait a week after that day before heās texting you (i hope this isnāt unprofessional, butā¦) and shoving it deep into the pocket of his scrubs as his shift starts so that he doesnāt see your answer right away. It doesnāt work, and each time his phone buzzes his heart skips a beat. Finally, he has a second, and he forces himself to open the message with a mixture of complete fear and agony and anticipation pooling in his stomach. (hi, michael. iām free on friday, too. pick me up at 8?).
singledad!robby, who knows that everyone can tell that his mood has completely shifted. he doesnāt care, at least not in the moment. not when he has a date with you in two days and hopefully many more to come.
a/n: okok im so excited i love writing this fic/ oneshot so far. idk how long it will end up but ugh i just love dennis sm. is reader being a forensic chem major me self inserting? yes! do i care? no! i need some forensic chem rep in this fandom STAT so i'm writing it myself :3 unsure of if this should be a chapter sort of thing or just a long one-shot so let me know what you'd prefer!
p.s. part 2 of singledad!robby is coming out today too ;3
content: this is a teaser for a dennis whitaker x robbysdaughter!reader fic. reader is described as feminine, with long enough hair to tuck behind her ear and wears dresses. alcohol mentioned. slight age gap (reader is 21-22, dennis is 27ish). basically shy x sunshine. reader is a junior undergrad studying forensic chemistry, going to be a medical examiner.
word count: 378
Youāre staring up at Dennis, holding his gaze with glistening eyes as the bass vibrates through your bodies. Itās only when the bartender comes over and hands you your drink that you look away. You thank them with a nod, taking a small sip and humming with approval.
āGentleman over there paid for it.ā
Dennisās heart sinks. Of course he expected you to have the attention of other people, but for it to happen while heās with you causes an ache in his chest. You look behind him, trying to find who paid for your drink before your features soften into a smile. Dennis swears his heart stops beating. You had already found someone better, someone with more confidence than him. Someone who knew how to talk to gorgeous, self-assured girls.
āWanna come meet someone?ā Your question confuses him, but he finds himself nodding. He thinks he would agree to anything you asked right now. Completely forgetting about ordering another drink, he lets you grab his hand and guide you to wherever you were going. Did you normally take men to meet their competition?
āWeāre here!ā You shout over the music, snapping Dennis out of his thoughts. He looks up from his feet, ready to meet the first place winner in the competition of vying for your attention.
What Dennis was not expecting was to find his chief attending, Michael Robinavitch. There was no way he was fighting for the attention of the same girl as his boss. His experienced, intimidating, 7-week-itch boss.
āSweetheart, me and Dennis already know each other. Remember Whitaker? The first year resident I told you about?ā A look of realization dawns on your face, but no embarrassment is obvious in your expression as you look between the two men. Instead, a laugh bubbles out of you, and he finds himself wishing he could hear it again, despite the circumstances.
āOh, Iām sorry! Thatās so silly.ā You laugh again when you see Dennisās face, and heās glad he could provide at least some comedic relief despite his internal panic. āWell, Dennis, Robby is my dad.ā
Oh no. No. There was absolutely no way. Of course the first girl heās had the courage to ask out since moving to Pittsburgh is the daughter of his fucking boss.
a/n: so i got a little carried away and have a lot more i'd like to write for them... pt 2, anyone?
content: headcanons of singledad!robby with a daughter and teacher!reader. one (1) alcohol mention - reader is buying it. no other warnings that i know of. reader can be read as gender neutral.
word count: 523
pt. 2
singledad!robby, who is so nervous for his kids first day of kindergarten. he took the day off, of course, and he swears that dealing with a trauma case is less nerve-wracking than this. he walks his daughter all the way to her classroom, where you are waiting at the door. with just a smile, you somehow ease his anxiety. your name stays on the tip of his tongue as he heads back home, after giving his daughter a hug and kiss goodbye.
singledad!robby, who canāt wait to pick his sweet girl up from her first day, also hoping to catch a glance at you. and there you are, waiting with your class as parents arrive to take their children home. he walks up to you, hand outstretched. you take it gently, and the way you remember his name sends a flutter through his chest (i mean, how could you not remember the handsome older dad you met this morning?).
singledad!robby, who is immediately heading to the store anytime you send an email to the parents, letting them know about a classroom party, or about any school supplies the kids need. he lets his daughter pick out what she wants, grabbing extra for any kids who canāt bring their own. when the pair show up in the morning, bags in hand, you canāt help but smile and express your gratitude profusely.
singledad!robby, who has to schedule conferences for after his shifts. he hates asking you to stay so late, but youāre more than okay with it, it seems. you rave about his daughter, how attentive she is in class, her reading skills, and her kindness towards the other kids. you mention how she always brings robby up (āmy daddy is a doctor, he brings people back to life!ā or āmy daddy does my hair too tight, can you help please?ā), causing a light blush to coat his cheeks.
singledad!robby, who finds himself volunteering for after school activities that he knows youāll be at. of course, he would show up for his daughter anyways, but its an added bonus if he gets to see you. you always manage to find the duo, greeting them and listening intently to anything his daughter has to say,
singledad!robby, who runs into you at the grocery store. your cart is reaching full, with the majority of it being snacks and supplies that are obviously for the classroom. a few things are clearly for you, though, including some of your favorite alcohol. you blush, feeling like he caught you doing something you shouldnāt be. robby insists on paying for everything, saying itās the least he could do for how much you provide for your class.
singledad!robby, who sits at the dining room table with his daughter as she makes you a card for every holiday. she begs him to write his name on each one, and beams with pride as he praises her art skills. he watches your face light up as you receive each one, giving his daughter a hug and nodding bashfully at him. he wishes you would hug him, too.
Jack Abbot finds himself feeling oddly protective over the new night shift attending.
He tells himself it's natural.
You were the young widow of a Marine, a military spouse who brought the greatest sacrifice for her country - your husband.
He watched you push on with gritted teeth, haunted by your own demons and trauma, all for the little girl depending on you.
It was only natural.
Any serviceman would feel an obligation towards your well-being.
Any serviceman would want to know you were safe... happy...
So how come, he can't help but feel like he is stealing another man's life?
Ao3 | masterlist
Tag/Content: 18+, slow burn sexually explicit content, older man/younger (29 y/o) woman, grief, loss, ptsd, yearning, Jack Abbot would be a great girl dad and you can't change my mind, reader is an alt!girly with tats and piercings (more tags to follow as I work on the fic)
Jack happily left Robby to do handover with Shen and snuck away towards the lockers before anyone could call him back.Ā
His leg was killing him.Ā
He needed to get home and get the prosthetic off. He prayed he hadnāt given himself another fucking sore. The last one had made his life hard enough to last him for a lifetime.
His physical therapist kept telling him to take more breaks, but breaks were like a unicorn in the ER.
A fantasy rather than a reality.
You looked up from your locker when Jack limped into the hallway.
You had changed out of your scrubs, he noticed, but instead of the clothes you wore that afternoon, you wore a pair of black cargo pants, chains dangling down your leg, hems tucked into your neatly tied combat boots, and a tight fitting black shirt that left your tattooed midriff bare.
āI hope I didnāt insult you today.ā You said while hanging up your stethoscope in your locker. āI can come off as abrasive, Iāve been told. I didnāt mean to. I just have a complicated relationship with the military-industrial complex of our country.ā
āNo worries.ā Jack pulled his backpack out of his locker and shut it. He watched you shrug on the Marine Corps jacket that was far too big for you - definitely from your father. Maybe a friend. You pulled a necklace out from under your shirt, not the dog tags, he could tell you were still wearing.
A ring holder necklace.
You slipped the rings off it and onto your finger, staring down at the silver curled around your finger for a moment before visibly forcing yourself to look away.
āYouāre married?ā
āNo.ā
The realization hit him like an SUV backing into a cyclist.
The jacket heād been wracking his brain over all shift long had belonged to your husband.
Jack played with his own ring in his hand.
Divorced people didnāt keep wearing their wedding bands.
Divorced people didnāt look at their wedding bands like that.
Divorced people chucked their rings, or sold them, or buried them at the very back of their closets.
Jack slipped his ring onto his finger. He felt your eyes on him, but you didnāt speak.
Only one kind of unmarried person kept wearing their ringā¦
āMe neither.ā He whispered, more to himself and the sacred memory of that ring than to you.
You didn't say it. My condolences. You said nothing, understanding that there simply was nothing to say. No words in all of human history could ever be enough for the agony of being the one left behind when nothing makes any bloody sense anymore.
You walked out together, through the packed waiting room that was only ever empty when they anticipated a Mass Casualty Incident.Ā
You were comfortable in places where quiet meant devastation, where stillness was an omen of death and defeat, he could tell - just like he was.
You looked up at the rising sun as though you could not believe it still did, like after everything you saw, you were more surprised to see the sunrise than to find out it would never rise again.
I said I was thinking of writing an Abbot x reader fic, and here we are haha! I hope some of you will be as excited as I am to tag along on this angsty little journey.
Feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged when I post the first chapter <3
a/n: first real post on here, i really want to get into writing again and posting it on here so i hope this isn't too terrible!! i really want to write for jack and robby for sure, but not sure who else or from what other fandoms yet :)
content: just some headcanons of jack with an alt!reader. reader has piercings, tattoos, dyes hair. no specific 'style' or subculture mentioned!
word count: 503
jack abbot, who was immediately intrigued by your hair, piercings, and tattoos from the moment you started on night shift. each time you come in with a new hair color or new tattoo, he looks on in curiosity, too nervous to ask questions without seeming like an old man. now, you drag him to the store with you and make him help you decide on new hair colors or piercing jewelry.
jack abbot, who can hear the music blasting through your headphones as you walk into the ED, not recognizing any of the songs but finding himself wishing he did. he then googles āsongs with screamingā to try and find anything similar. once you start dating, he insists you make him a playlist to listen to.
jack abbot, who is more than happy to attend any concerts in the area with you. you got pit tickets? heās standing behind you, arms awkwardly at his side with his earplugs in. youāre dancing all around and grabbing his arms to make him join? his joints donāt move like they used to, but heās bouncing along as best as he can. hell, he even surprises you with VIP passes to your favorite band for christmas and takes ALL the pictures you want with the band (with most of them turning out blurry and very ādadā-esque, but you love them anyway).
jack abbot, who had never really thought about getting a tattoo before. some of his buddies in the army had them, but he had never been enticed until he saw how perfect you looked with them. the way your choices flowed perfectly along your soft skin, framing each and every part of you. he listened intently each time you explained the meanings behind them, even if it was just āi liked itā.
jack abbot, who hadnāt seen any of the classic halloween/horror movies until you shared a few days off in october and decided to binge watch everything you possibly could. he liked the way you curled up in his side, biting your lip in anticipation despite having seen them all before.
jack abbot, who comes home one day with a smug smile tugging at his lips. he stands in front of you as you lay on the couch, and tugs his waistband lower. your anniversary date is staring right at you, bold black lines on his hip bone.
jack abbot, who lets you decorate your shared home however you want. you like crystals and tarot? you have a perfect bay window shelf to set them in (āfor the moon-cleansing, right baby?ā) that jack insisted on building himself. he loves everything you pick out, and loves the nursery you design even better, with itās vintage decor and stuffed animals. (ājack, did you ever have a bear like this? itās from my grandma when she was a little girl.ā)
jack abbot, who wouldnāt change anything about you. let people make their comments, let them think what they want. he is exactly where he wants to be.
He's never been worried. Not at home, not when he could fight any assailants off himself. Hell, they'd be fucking loose in the head to think they could take him on. It's not like he had much to show either--he didn't have much in the ways of luxury, simply because he chose not to purchase it.
Until he met you. He was nervous then, suddenly fixing shit around the house he'd let slip by him--the broken security system, the hole in the ceiling where he'd ripped out the smoke alarm because of its incessant 'low battery' beeping. Sure it was dangerous, but he hadn't cared before.
What never changed was the fact he'd had guns all over the house. You told him before that you'd feel sorry for whatever poor bloke thought he could grab a quick check off of your home, and he'd laughed in response, told you not to worry about it. He'd deal with it, after all, should push come to shove.
So he's prepared when he hears rustling from downstairs, and the beeping of the security system he'd had installed beeping away beside his ear--quiet enough for you to never notice, loud enough for him to wake up. He slips out of bed, sooths the crease that forms between your brows when his warmth leaves from beside yours, and grabs the pistol under the bed.
Whoever's broken in is about to feel bloody sorry for even trying.
He's efficient. Makes quick work of checking upstairs, deems it all clear before he's creeping down the stairs--the perpetrator's back in immediate sight. He's rifling through the desk in the study, thumbing through cabinets for cash, or anything expensive.
He only notices Simon when Simon wants him to. It's a firm press of the gun to the guy's head, causing him to jump, flinching under the touch. "What the hell--"
āIād shoot yāpoint blank right āere if I could, but the missus is sleepinā upstairs. So yāve got thirty seconds tāfuck off before I turn yāinto a stain on the carpet," Simon interjects, checking the clock on the wall absently. Like it's just an average weekday to him.
"Hey, hey man, I'm just--" he raises his hands placatingly, dropping the papers he had been holding.
"Aye. Don't give a fuck. Would rather not stain the carpet, though, missus really likes this one. Said it's real soft n' nice on 'er feet."
Simon catches the door as he practically sprints from the home, only to avoid it slamming--he wouldn't want to alarm you, of course. He hums, shuts it quietly, and goes to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.
When he's back upstairs, shuffling into the bedroom, your wide eyes looking at him and quietly asking him where he went--how dare he leave you when you were cuddling, he smiles, places the glass on the nightstand and sneakily slips the gun right where he'd first gotten it.
āNothing, luv, was thirsty, needed tāgrab some water.ā
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