my name is jelly! 22 y/o .☘︎ ݁˖ gemini ✧˖°. filipina + mexican ⋆˚꩜｡ she/her/hers
i love hot older men (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝) novice fanfic writer ⋆˚࿔
⤷ coming see what i'm reading @di1fenjoyer
current writing for: The Pitt (abbot n robby)
this blog n fics primarily contain 18+ NSFW themes MDNI : freak central, enter and read at your own risk, always make sure to read tags n summary before reading!
i do not give permission for my work to be reposted on other sites (i.e. AO3, Wattpad, etc). do not feed my work into AI.
Trinity: Life update twink, I ended things with Garcia, starting therapy, and just orgasmed so hard my nose bled for 15 minutes. WOO, it’s my fucking month!
summary: jack stays at the farmers market a little longer than he usually does. you both spend that time getting to know each other a little more **contains written plot - not entirely proofread - 1.7k wc
desc: 18+ blog MDNI, head chef!jack abbot, pastry chef!fem!reader, reader is nicknamed pumpkin, maybe OOC characters, reader being a little vulnerable with jack, farmers market date
a/n: PAPA'S BACK! sorry for the nearly 3 week break 😳 it took longer to hop back on than i thought but here we are now! will get back to regularly updating :3
The Pennsylvania summer was really starting to show. It was a scorcher in Pittsburgh. A beating sun already at 7:35 in the morning. That wasn't even the first thing on Jack's mind today.
It felt like he had been waiting for hours since he arrived at the corner of the street, waiting patiently by the entrance to the farmers market. ‘Hours’ was really 15 minutes. Maybe he should have asked if you wanted a ride, or where you lived. But he thought that might come off a little creepy.
Wearing the same black t-shirt that he basically lived in, he couldn't help but pull at the sleeve when he crossed his arms. Why was he so nervous? The back of his neck was burning up more than he used to, and it's as if all the moisture in his mouth had dried up.
That small little voice caught him in the back of his mind. Is someone nervous to be seen out, alone with a pretty, younger girl?
Jack Abbot is a grown fucking man, he is not nervous out being out with a younger girl. She's just a colleague. Right? Or maybe he’s just a little caught up on the fact this is the first time he’ll be seeing you outside of the restaurant. Ever since that late night in the kitchen, with the cake for Cassie, you had only been near Jack in the presence of others. But that's what work is, you didn't expect to be alone with him constantly. And neither did he.
"Jack!" you called out.
It was like a siren's song tugged him away from his idea of 'reality'.
There you were, clutching the well-loved tote bag over your shoulder. In those perfect jeans and a green gingham, flowy tank top. He made a mental note, 5, how many times you've worn something green this week.
The corner of his lips bent up in a half smile as he waved over to you, watching as you step your way towards him.
"Finally, had me waiting for hours." Jack teased you. Letting his arms fall out of their cross and his hands slipping into his pocket.
"Now I have to warn you, the rumors are true. I tend to spend a little too long here." Jack prepared himself to hear a groan that he had familiarized himself with from anyone else that had the misfortune to go to the farmers market with him.
"That's not too bad, I've been looking for a reason to stay out of the house longer."
"Really? Even if I spend 20 minutes negotiating the price of a tomato?"
"Even if you spend an hour picking out the best potato!"
And thus started the longest time Jack had spent at the farmers market. What he thought would have been an hour trip, turned into 3 hours.
You rivaled Jack in how much time you could really spend at a farmers market. Bouncing from every stall, even if they were selling the same things, Jack saw how you had to ask the vendors every question under the sun. Prying at the minds of other bakers selling their goods.
“Do your peaches taste different at the beginning and end of the season?”
“Do you add more sugar to all your jams?”
“Is this matcha actually ceremonial grade?”
“What kind of honey did you use for your cakes?”
A bit excessive, he thought. Jack knew deep down it was like looking at a younger version of himself when he first started cooking. Deep into the craft with all the passion one could muster. You’re dedicated, just like he is.
And he saw that no matter how much you struggled to advocate for your own creativity, you still found ways for it to come out of you naturally. It took his breath away.
Again, Jack was lost in his own head thinking about you. Not that he was going to admit that to himself. He looked around the crowd, seeing you were not next to him anymore.
Suddenly appearing at his other side, holding a halved orange up to him. A sweet smile paired with the fruit offering.
“Whoa, where did you run off to?” He looked down to the orange and took it from you, seeing that you had the other half.
“Oh shit, sorry! I ran away, I couldn’t get that sweet little lady off my mind. She was telling me her life story and it just broke my heart for her. I had to go back and buy these oranges from her, they’re amazing! Who knew they had oranges just as sweet as California oranges out here?” You chirped to him.
“You’ve been to California?” He asked, peeling the skin away and biting into the fruit.
“That’s where I grew up! Born and raised in Pasadena and went to culinary schoo therel. Pastry and baking arts program for a year.” Jack watched as your lips sucked at the meat of the orange, a little bit dripping on to your chin. “I’ve never told you?” You asked.
“No, I don’t think we’ve ever had a conversation outside the topic of cooking and baking.” he admitted. Maybe it was years of conditioning to keep himself in a professional mindset while in the kitchen.
He raised his thumb to your chin, swiping away the little droplet of orange juice away from your skin. A deep heat coming to your cheeks as you thanked him.
“Is that ok with you?” The question felt a little more changed for Jack than it should have been.
“I think it’s important for me and my staff to have a good connection— bond? That’s probably my fault for not asking you more about yourself.” He admitted.
“It’s kinda on me too then I guess, I never thought to ask you about anything. Everything I hear is just through the grapevine.”
Jack wanted to smile knowing you were asking about him. “As long as it's good things only, I don’t mind you hearing it from other people.”
“Well, now I wanna get it from the source.”
“Easy tiger, you’ll know more with time.”
Pursuing your lips, you knew it was now or never to get exclusive Jack Abbot information. “Fine, if I tell you something, you tell me something. Something real, a deep cut!”
“Ok, I’ll bite. One fun fact since you’re pulling my leg so hard…My good leg.” He pulled his lips into a smirk as his elbow nudged yours. “I was actually pretty bad at cooking until I got into med school.”
“Really? I find that very hard to believe." Arching your eyebrow and side eyeing him. It was hard to believe the owner and creator of one of the hottest restaurants in Pittsburgh used to not know how to cook.
Jack went on a long tangent about how the stress of med school taught him how to feed himself better. And overtime, it turned him into becoming the best cook and host at gatherings and study sessions. Even Robby was able to school him on some cooking techniques. Both of you got lost in his many, many stories about cooking in a cramped apartment that he almost burnt down one too many times. Neither of you even realized that you had been walking in rounds of the entire market. Not paying attention to anyone but each other.
He finished his stories with a deep sigh. Almost breathless from how much he was talking. “Ok, I fulfilled my end of the deal. Fair is fair.” Looking down at you. Studying those eyes that have been glued on to him for the past 30 or so minutes.
Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you thought hard about what you could tell Jack. Not something flat and obvious. He shared something meaningful to you, you want to do the same.
“I used to own a bakery, Vanilla and Vine. I wanted to open it in California but I was convinced to come out here and start a new life.” you say as your eyes leave his direction. Locking your gaze forward as you keep walking.
You didn’t think Vanilla and Vine would come up as much as it did this year. Your closed down bakery, every hope and dream you had was born there. Its closing was the last thing you were hoping to tell anyone. Deep down, you felt that Jack would understand what it meant to you.
“You know what, I heard about Vanilla and Vine. I thought you only opened up at the beginning of last year? What happened?” he asked lightly. Jack saw how your shoulders started to slump at the mention. His body drifted ever so slightly to the side to give you more space, feeling he was in sensitive territory.
“It was a good year's run, but I had to close at the end of the year. We were pretty popular at the start. But over time, it just wasn’t working out. Maybe I wasn’t good with the money or whatever. I gave that place my everything while it lasted.” A small whimper punctuated the end of your words. You thought you had gone to enough therapy to stop being so emotional about Vanilla and Vine.
“I was able to bake without any red tape. Just make whatever I thought was delicious, what the people wanted. It just wasn’t meant to be.” A single tear gliding down your cheek.
Jack wanted to reach out and wipe it away, just like the orange juice. Almost intrusively, he remembered where he was and who he was to you. As your boss, he shouldn’t be touching you without asking. He let himself stay still next to you, hands deep into the pockets of his pants.
“I’m sorry about that Pumpkin… I’m sure it wasn’t easy.” Was the best that he could muster. What more could he really say without crossing a line?
“It’s ok, it’s in the past now. I’m on to new things, better things! Like The Pitt. I think I’m really finding my footing there.” You bring that smile back to your face, and elbow Jack on his forearm.
He smiles, warming his chest knowing how much you liked working at The Pitt. Hoping that you liked working just as much as he did with you.
a/n: continuing my smau addiction by soft launching a new potential series. this is just a snap shot because i cant conceptualize plot rn but i wanna write it. genuinely let me know if your interested or have suggestions xoxo
i also dont think i have a good grasp of the characters but ig that just means i need a rewatch.
also reblogs are an authors best friend ok now im done
Working as a coyote is fun - until you miss catching a bottle your coworker threw
pairing: jack abbot x f!coyote reader
Warnings: age gap (obviously), alcohol mentions, medical inaccuracies, nicknames, reader gets a pretty major cut, barely proofread
wc: 1.3k
a/n: i wish coyote ugly wasn’t a romcom; i just want a movie where hot girls can dance on a bar
next
The music blared, the crowd cheered - this was where you belonged. Sure it wasn’t ‘classy’ but you made BANK and it was fun - a win in your books. All the girls had a bit, a character to play - some more than the others. Alex had a bitchy cool girl thing, Sophie had the bimbo role locked. You had this cowgirl bit, bad accent, hat and boots - the complete look. It was fun - really good for tips.
Coyote Ugly was a common spot for bachelor parties, much to your chagrin - the bachelors were loud; always wanting to get on the bar, requesting stupid songs; unlike your regular customers who were for the most part respectful, considering your job was to be sexy but never obtainable. Never dip your pen in company ink - that’s what they said in ‘serious’ business, right?
Jack walked into the bar, immediately feeling old. Some country rock song was blaring as he glanced around - girls dancing on the bar, Steve's fiance would love that. He sighed, it was his one night off this week and he was spending it here? On a bachelor party for a guy who's been on the SWAT team for like 3 months? Instead of doing that laundry he desperately needed to do as of last week? Mistake… probably.
He glanced at the bar again, there were two girls - one in a brown leather bikini style top with fringe and black leather low waisted pants. The other girl had short denim shorts with some kind of wording on the back pocket - what it said he couldn't read, not without his glasses - her top was a gingham cropped halter top that tied in the front. He assumed, basing his theory entirely on her cowboy boots and hat - there was a theme to the girls.
You spotted a group of men walking in while performing on the bar with Alex; rolling hips and flipping your hair - the usual. You sniped the bachelor energy right away, internally rolling your eyes.
“Soph - bachlors” you shouted to her over the music.
She liked bachelor parties, she lived for this bar and would take any attention offered to her. She fixed her hair and you giggled affectionately.
The song ended and me and Alex hopped off the bar, getting back to serving drinks. Almost like clockwork, a man came up to the bar - “it’s my buddy’s bachelor - can you give him a little dance, beautiful?” he said, a sleazy smirk on his lips.
“Sorry, Honey, all I can offer is a shoutout or drinks” you said, a fake southern accent playing on your lips.
“Both - both sounds great, sweetheart" he said, calling over his friends
“Alrighy, Sugar - what can I get ya? Fair warning we do shots or beer” you said; sweetly southern.
“Shots for us and a beer for the old man” he said, gesturing to the boys he was with. They were all fit, mostly 20-30’s except the ‘old man’. He was greying but still extremely fit like the others.
“$52 honey - not including tip” you said with a wink, pouring the shots.
He handed you a $50 and a $10 - which immediately went into your pocket, it was easier to deal with the technicalities later, it's not like this was a ‘change given’ establishment.
You pushed forward the shots and gave the older man his beer with a wink.
You snatched the megaphone, hoping onto the bar again.
“Alright ladies and gents - we’ve got a bachelor in the house tonight!” you said, immediately riling up the crowd. “Let’s get him up here!”
The crowd cheered - obviously - you were good at your job.
“Let’s give ‘em a nice sendoff huh?” you giggled with that southern drawl that patrons loved, the crowd cheered again; Alex handed you a shot and you passed it to the man; who took it with shocking speed which again, riled up the crowd.
You put the megaphone down as he climbed off the bar, screaming in his friends faces.
“‘Nother round boys?” You asked, already lining up the shot glasses again, they eagerly responded with cheers.
You gestured for Sophie to throw you the bottle - a trick you pulled off multiple times every night without fail, but tonight, it slipped from your hand and shattered on the floor.
“Damn it” you muttered - fake accent letting up - leaning down to move the glass out of the way, and cut your palm on a piece you didn't see - fuck!
“Sorry boys, one of my other pretty coworkers will have to serve yall” you said, looking for any fabric or napkin to hold against your palm.
“That looks bad, baby - you want some help?” the guy you'd been talking to all night asked, you went to speak when he hit the older man on the shoulder. “Help the pretty lady, Jack”
The man took one look at your hand and winced, “yeah, that's not good”
“Theres a first aid kit in the back” you said, hoping over the bar and grabbing the man by the arm.
When we got to the back; a dressing room type space - vanities with hollywood lights and clothing racks littered about the room - the music was muffled, but you were 80% sure it was ‘My Humps’ from the Black Eyed Peas.
“The kit should be over there” you sighed, pointing to the corner as you went to sit on the vanity.
“You feel faint at all?” he asked, collecting the first aid kit, raising a brow as he saw you sitting expectantly.
“Nope” you said, crossing your legs as he walked over.
“That's good, very good - lot of people feel faint with blood” he murmured in a way that made your stomach flutter a little.
“Always was an overachiever, darlin'" you drawled, holding out your hand to be cleaned.
He took your hand gently in his, inspecting the wound.
“Can’t see a need for stitches - but I'm not sure I can advise working the rest of the night” He murmured, as if the words were just for you.
“Come on, cowboy” you drawled, putting your hat on him, “let me ride” you whispered; ever the flirt.
“Sorry, 'darlin” he said; seemingly holding back a snigger at the use of the word “doctors orders”
You rolled your eyes, immediately regretting it when he began to clean the wound “Fuck!” you said, the accent dropping.
“Fake accent? What will they come up with next” he joked sarcastically, seemingly tickled by his own humour.
“You always this funny with patients?” you huffed, a little annoyed your flirting hadn’t worked.
“Just for you sweetheart” he murmured, completely focused on cleaning your cut - and you believed it.
“What does it say on shorts?” he asked, looking into your eyes briefly while grabbing a bandage.
“‘Kiss it cowboy’” you giggled, amused at your genius.
He hummed softly, applying the bandage.
“If you wanna swing by the hospital in 2 days so I can make sure it’s healing well” He said, looking into your eyes again, crossing his arms over his very well defined chest.
“Can’t you swing by the bar?” you asked, tilting your head slightly - him never letting up on the eye contact, “or… gimmie your number?” you asked, leaning forward slightly.
“You ever hear no? He asked jokingly.
“No” you giggled.
“Thought so” he muttered, grabbing a tissue and an eyeliner pencil - it's a dressing room it's not like you had much to write back there - and scribbled down his number.
“Any concerns about the healing process - text me” he said, holding out the tissue.
“Who am I to deny doctors orders?” you teased, playfully snatching the tissue.
“Good girl” he hummed “go home - you're not working with a hand like that” he said, finally letting go of the eye contact to pack up the first aid kit.
“Yes sir” you murmured flirtily, “go, i’ve got it” you hummed, hoping off the vanity and tidying up “not like I can work”
“You sure, Sweetheart?” he asked, looking at you carefully.
“Uh huh - bachelor party - go, have fun” you teased, the tissue with his number poking out of your back pocket with the stupid stitched phrase he couldn’t seem to stop looking at.
He visibly hesitated a little “Alright sweetheart - behave” he said heading to the door after deciding you were responsible enough to be left alone.
“Yes doctor” you muttered, waving him off - back out to the sweet embrace of country rock.
"To love me is to suffer me, " and I believe that
When I lay with you in that auld lang room
Wishin' I was the way you say that you are
You'll go fight a war, I'll go missin'
I've warned you, for me, it's not that hard
══════════════════
NETTLES - ETHEL CAIN
NOAH WYLE as LEONARD SHULER
The World Made Straight (2015) dir. David Burris
not a q but your the pitt restaurant au is so good, consider me a di1fluvrLUVR 💕💕💕
OMG!!! Thank you so much I’m so happy you like it 🥺🥺 I always get so nervous about it because I second guess the direction all the time 😫
I haven’t updated in a week tho OOPTHS! It was my birthday yesterday so I took the weekend off to be lazy LOL, I’m gonna write up the next chapters starting tomorrow!
