Idk why people act like writing exclusively m/m or f/f is a crime. Like no I don’t write yuri, I only do yaoi. It’s not because I hate lesbians or that I see women as less, it’s because I am attracted to boys, I like boys, and when I’m writing, I’m doing it for, crazy enough, MYSELF!!! Stop acting like everyone needs to write every categoryyyyy I’m so sick of itttttt
I had an idea for your service dog Dennis stories:
A military hybrid comes into the ER with some army guys who need treatment, and Dennis is faced with a different kind of hybrid, who doesn't neccesarily like other hybrids (like how some working dogs are dog reactive) and reflects on how they're both suited for their jobs (I'm imagining the army hybrid as some kind of shepherd). Jack has to be the one to explain things to Dennis about what the army hybrids go through and provide reassurance.
Thank you for your time, sorry if this sounds so formal, I never know how to put in requests or ideas lol
Thank you, I love this idea SO MUCH! It's a little shorter than I wanted but I hope it's okay! I might do some more about this at some point because it's such a great concept!
Service Dog Dennis AU Part 11
Jack had known as soon as the SWAT hybrid came in that Dennis would struggle.
He'd never held any meaningful conversation with this particular hybrid - Cooper, Jack vaguely remembered - but he'd gone on a couple operations with the team he belonged to. Seen him operate a few times. Thought of their sweet, bouncy Dennis every time he saw Cooper single-mindedly tear into the flesh of a suspect's arm while they wildly tried to get a shot off.
And maybe it was that, or maybe it was just the sheer physical difference that made him hesitant - Cooper was huge, tall and hulking and with brown-black ears always pricked to alertness - but he knew he wanted to try to get to Dennis before he approached.
Dennis lit up like a Christmas tree anytime another hybrid came into the ER, and he made it his personal mission to check in carefully with each and every one of them. He usually ended up pressed against them, nuzzling if he could get away with it, and who the fuck were any of them to deny Dennis a little bit of comfort from people like him?
But Dennis was...
He was different to Cooper. Jack tried not to do Dennis the disservice of infantalising him or coddling him because he happened to be bright and cheerful and have soft ears and a cute tail. He knew Dennis was fucking good at what he did. He knew Dennis was fitter and faster and probably had the capacity to do more physical damage than probably any of the humans in the hospital. So he tried, he really, truly, tried not to think of him in any different terms than he'd think of his other colleagues.
But Dennis was theirs. He was cheerful and bright, and he stopped to save bugs from being stepped on, and he wasn't ashamed of crying with and for their patients, and he fundamentally seemed hardwired to believe that people were good and worthy beings. He felt things so deeply.
Dennis was not going to understand Cooper, and Cooper was not going to understand Dennis.
He was too late, because of course he was.
He was treated to the sight of Dennis' frantically-wagging tail go up against the stiff tail held still at Cooper's back.
"Hi!" The tail wag softened slightly as Dennis glanced through to the bay where Cooper's sergeant was being treated.
"I'm sorry - would you like to tell me what happened to your friend?"
"My sergeant. Not my friend."
Dennis blinked, ears flicking back for a split second and tail halting in its wagging.
"Oh - um. I'm sorry. Would you like to talk to me about what happened to - to your sergeant?"
"I already briefed the doctors. You a doctor?"
"Oh - no, I'm a support -"
"Yeah, no. I'm good."
Even from across the floor and busy as he was, Jack could see Dennis droop. His ears trembled a little as they flopped down to the sides of Dennis' face. His tail stuttered and halted, and he clutched the hem of his scrub top.
"Oh. Okay. Um, that's no problem. We don't have to talk."
It took Jack just a second too long to realise the intent behind the words.
Hybrids were usually much more reliant on and receptive to touch and scent than humans. On the rare occasion they did get hybrids in the hospital, they often didn't really want to talk that much. Jack had seen Dennis soothe tense lines and too-wide eyes simply by gently pressing himself into the side of the other hybrid, and leaning his weight there. Sometimes, if things were quiet and they were behind a curtain or in one of the bays with a functioning door, he had seen them engage in gentle, subtle nuzzling and scenting with Dennis, who was all too happy to let his eyes droop slightly and allow himself to be sniffed and nestled in tighter.
He was too late to intervene when he saw Dennis carefully try to slot himself into Cooper's side, but he crossed the floor quick enough to catch the aftermath.
The little yelp Dennis let out was soft, but it felt like it pierced something soft and delicate inside Jack. The kid stumbled as one of Cooper's big hands shoved him firmly away from him.
"Back the fuck up, puppy." There was a hint of a snarl to his voice, a flash of sharpened teeth.
"I'm - I'm sorry -"
"I don't know what you're used to -"
"Cooper!" Jack's voice was doing a better impression of a bark than he'd heard from most hybrids, and he saw Cooper stiffen and then saw his shoulders slip back from hostility to something more like parade rest.
"Sergeant Abbot."
"Doctor Abbot. We're not on base anymore, Cooper, and you'd do well to remember that. You're in my emergency department, and you have just put your hands on my subordinate."
"Jack..."
Dennis' protest is soft and muted, his head bowed in the face of Cooper's stiff shoulders and frozen tail.
"Sorry, Sergeant - Doctor Abbot."
Cooper's hands were clasped behind his back, and he was looking just past Jack's left ear. Jack stared back, straight into the eyes that knew they shouldn't meet his.
"Not to me. To him."
Cooper's throat bobbed with one single swallow, and then he dipped his head ever so slightly to angle in Dennis' direction, eye settling just above the place where Dennis' hair was shorn slightly shorter.
"I'm sorry, pup."
"Dennis."
"I'm sorry, Dennis." Short, clear, and without hesitation. Jack nodded.
Dennis did too, but it was much more subdued, and his eyes made a valiant effort to meet Cooper's. Jack put his hand on the nape of Dennis' neck and squeezed, thumb finding the soft skin behind Dennis' ear and stroking.
"That's okay." He gave Cooper a weak smile, got a blink in return. "I shouldn't have assumed."
"C'mon, Denny. Let's go see what the day shift left for us in the fridge." Because Jack had no desire to listen to any self-flagellation tonight.
He steered Dennis away from Cooper and forwards the breakroom, fingers squeezing soothingly into the tense muscles of Dennis' neck.
He kicked the breakroom door closed behind them.
"C'mere, sweetheart."
He opened his free arm, and Dennis melted into his chest with no hesitation.
"I'm sorry."
"No, we've already done that." He kept a thread of steel in his tone as he strokes Dennis' ears. "The only person who needed to apologise was Cooper. It was a military apology, but it's the best one anyone will ever get from him."
Jack snorted, petting Dennis' back when he tilted his head against Jack's chest.
"I probably owe you an apology too, kid."
"No -"
"Yes. I know what military jackasses are like. Pun maybe intended." He wiggles his finger under Dennis' chin where he's ticklish, smiles at the quiet giggle and squirming it produces. He lets them sit in the newly-gentle silence for a while, lets Dennis process his clearly-swirling thoughts.
"Thank you." Dennis murmurs into Jack's neck. "For coming to - help."
"But?" He prompts gently, makes sure his tone is soft and inquisitive and nothing more.
"But you...you didn't need to be mean to him."
Jack can't quite stifle the laugh that punches out of him into Dennis' hair.
"Honey, that wasn't mean -"
"You'd never speak to me like that."
"You're damn right I wouldn't. And nobody else is going to either."
At Dennis' doubtful silence, Jack gentles his voice, leans in so he can murmur quietly into his soft, fluffy ear.
"I know it sounded rough, Denny. And you're right, I wouldn't talk to you like that. But Cooper's a military man, through and through. That's how he communicates. It's how he's been trained - how we were all trained."
Dennis nuzzles closer into the crook of Jack's shoulder. He stays silent, but presses his nose to the warm skin and allows himself what Robby calls his little 'butterfly sniffs.'
"When you're in that environment, everything is short and sharp and clear. No room for any niceties or even basic politeness most of the time. And if you fuck up, you're told you've fucked up in no uncertain terms. You get to the point where you - you want that clarity, that bluntness. Cooper's feelings aren't gonna be hurt, honey. He was given feedback and an instruction, and he's content with that."
Jack can feel Dennis' body slowly starting to relax, inch by inch, leaning a little more of his weight into the hold. He smooths both ears back and gently pins their tips together at the back of Dennis' head, grinning at the indignant whine he gets. He presses an apology kiss to Dennis' forehead, keeps his voice low.
"It's nothing you did wrong, Denny. Cooper's just been trained to think of everything as a potential threat when he's wearing the uniform. Kinda like your vest, y'know? You know that when you're wearing it, you have a job to do. It's just unfortunate that a lot of military assholes don't know when to use common sense and pick up on context clues when they're dealing with civilians."
"They tried to make me into a police hybrid, for a while." Dennis murmurs sleepily, snuggling further into Jack's hold like he hasn't just dropped a fucking bombshell.
"They tried a few different things, once they figured out I had a good sense of smell. I wasn't any good at any of them."
There's so many thoughts swirling through Jack's brain right now, and he finds it irritating and inappropriate that one of the most prominent ones is a desperate desire to call Robby and tell him what Dennis is saying.
"You're good at this, Denny. So fucking good at this. I promise you."
There's something like a small, soft smile being pressed into his chest, just above his heart.
Dashcon is NEXT WEEKEND!!!! If you're not able to be there irl remember there is tons of cool panels and livestreams of the main events happening online!!
What is VirtualDash?
Virtual DashCon 2, or "VirtualDash" is the digital home of DashCon 2, a full virtual convention with exclusive online-o
rewatched the pilot and being introduced to all the characters for the first time made me feel like a grieving husband rewatching all of the home movies with footages of my dead wife being happy on a crappy cable tv while being pissed drunk and pondering what could have been
Part two to the omegaverse Rabbot w Carter as their son (you’re gonna need to read the first one before this)
Before Jack knows what’s happening, Carter bends over and throws up on his own shoes. Instinctually, Jack leans forward and massages his own shaking hand along his back. “Are you okay?”
Carter nods, but he’s trembling too violently for Jack to believe him. “I need to call my mom.”
“Let’s get you cleaned up first,” Jack says. He ignores his aching knees and lands on the concrete to take Carter's shoes off for him, then leaves them on the curb. Jack places his hands on Carter’s shoulders and guides him to the bathroom.
"Thank you," Carter mumbles. "I could've done that."
Jack shakes his head. "I wanted to." Would've been nice to do it when Carter was five, but he'll take what he can get.
Carter rinses his mouth out in the sink and stares at Jack through the mirror. "When were— You and my mom, what..."
"Uh..." Jack scratches the back of his head. He laughs even though nothing about this is funny. "We met our last year of pre-med, courted for most of med school, and right before we graduated, he ended things."
Carter gives a small, shaky nod. "That adds up." He curls over the sink. "Oh, my God," he sounds like he might throw up again. Jack's hands retake their place on his pup's back. His pup.
"It's okay," Jack says. "Everything is going to be okay."
Wild, red-rimmed eyes meet his own. "I am going to kill my mom."
"I'd prefer if you didn't."
"You should want to kill him," Carter stresses. "I've told him about you. And I know for a fact he's looked on the hospital website; he's seen your photo. Fuck." He whips out his phone, but before he can make the call, Jack grabs his wrist.
"Not here," he says. "We should be somewhere more private."
Carter releases a heavy sigh but agrees. "My roommate isn't working today."
Heart pounding in his chest, Jack offers, "You could... come to my place."
They end up standing awkwardly in the entrance of Jack's home. He's now realizing how unwelcoming his house is; no photos on the walls, minimal decor, at least it's clean.
"This is neat," Carter says. He's being excruciatingly polite because Jack is sure the signed helmet his buddies gave him when he was discharged is of no interest to him. Still, telling Carter a bit about his military time fills the silence for a while, so he takes it.
To his surprise, Carter is genuinely enthralled. "That's awesome," he says. "I'm hoping to join Doctors Without Borders one day; maybe you can give me some tips on combat medicine before I go."
Absolutely not. Jack just got his pup; no way in hell is he sending him to get his own leg blown off. It must show on his face because Carter rolls his eyes.
"You're taking that as well as Mom did."
“Maybe wait until after your residency before thinking about that.”
Another eye roll. “Sure.” He sighs. “I’m calling him.”
“You should eat first,” Jack says. “It’s been a long day; you don’t want to have this conversation angry.” After decades of praying he’d run into Robby, now Jack feels sick at the thought of talking to him.
“Fine,” Carter says. “But I’m still going to be angry.”
Watching Carter eat the dinner he made gives Jack a foolish swell of satisfaction. He cleans his plate and thanks Jack softly; it takes a lot of strength to suppress the urge to kiss the top of his head or reach out for Carter at all. He’s so wonderful. Jack’s perfect pup.
Of course he’s perfect, Jack thinks; he’s Robby’s.
Jack is broken out of his daze when Carter’s phone begins ringing loudly. Before he can say that this isn’t a conversation to be had on speaker, the beautiful rasp that’s haunted Jack’s memories for nearly three decades sings through the house.
“Hi, baby. How was work?”
Jack’s mouth waters at the sound. He doesn’t know if he’s going to be sick, cry, or attempt to jump through the phone.
“Big day, Mom. Very big day.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“Well, first, guess who I’m sitting with.” He holds the phone out to Jack, who gapes like an idiot.
“Uh…” his breath stutters. “Hi— uh, hi, Robby. How have you been?”
Jack isn’t certain what an appropriate conversation starter is when speaking over the phone to an ex who gave him a pup he didn’t know about until an hour ago, but he grimaces at his faux-casual tone.
A long silence stretches between them.
“John,” Robby says, finally. “Take me off speaker. Now.”
Their pup huffs, but does as he’s told. Jack twiddles his thumbs and pretends not to listen to the half of the conversation he’s privy to. Instead, he focuses on the low, unintelligible hum of Robby’s voice.
After a few minutes, Carter holds the phone out. “He wants to talk to you.”
Jack takes it with quivering fingers. “Hello?”
There’s a shallow curse through the phone, then, “Hi, Jack. Long time, no see.”
Hearing Robby’s voice, hearing the man he’s always dreamed of as his mate, say his name again brings tears to Jack’s eyes. “It’s really you.”
“That it is,” Robby sighs. “I’m sorry this is how we’re meeting again.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Jack says immediately.
“Sorry is the least I should be,” Robby mutters. He takes a deep breath. “So… what do you think of our pup?”
Jack can’t help but laugh. He wipes his cheeks roughly as the tears trickle down. “He’s perfect. Robby, he’s the best thing in the whole world; you should see him at work.” From the corner of his eye, Jack sees Carter’s posture straighten. “You did so good.”
“He just looks like me,” Robby says. “His personality is all you.”
“No. Everything I loved about you is in there.”
A sharp sob breaks through the phone, and Jack wishes so badly he could reach through the screen and hold Robby like no time has passed at all.
“I’m so sorry, Jack,” he cries. “I thought I made the right choice at the time; I really did.”
“What did I do?” Jack asks between tears. Poor Carter is pretending to be interested in the spice rack to avoid his newly found father’s sobbing. “What made you think I wouldn’t want him?”
“Nothing,” Robby sniffs. “I knew you would. I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left. I found out two weeks after, and it—“ He chokes on his own breath. “It felt too late to come home by then,” he croaks.
The tears burn Jack’s face. “It wasn’t.” He glances at his pup, who has moved on to inspecting his cereal options. “It’s still not.”
“Jack—“
“Could we meet in person?” Jack’s leg bounces anxiously. “I’ll pay for your ticket and a hotel if you’d be willing to.”
“I can afford it myself,” Robby says.
“No, I know.” Jack’s cheeks burn. “I, well, I just—“
“You never let me pay for anything,” Robby teases. “My alpha: the perfect provider.”
Jack’s heart stops when Robby calls him his alpha. He doesn’t care that it’s a joke; since the moment he saw him in the dining hall all those years ago, Jack has been nothing but Robby’s. “Please let me.”
There’s another beat of silence, filled by Jack’s heartbeat thrumming in his ears, then Robby says, “Thank you, but I’ll pay for it.”
Jack deflates. Maybe Robby has mated in the years since Carter’s graduation, or he’s being courted now, and his current alpha will snap at Jack to back off. “Okay.”
“I’ll book a flight and text John the details.” He sighs again. “I really am sorry, Jack.”
“Don’t be,” Jack says again. “I’m handing you back to Carter, uh, John.”
John says his goodbyes and shifts from foot to foot, picking at the hem of his scrubs. “So, should we play catch or something?”
Jack smiles, raw and exhausted. “We can do whatever you want.”
He shuffles on his feet a little longer, then shyly extends his arms toward Jack. Despite his old, tired knees, Jack launches himself up and wraps his pup tight against his chest. He fits perfectly.
Jack slams to a halt the second he sees him. It’s not possible. He’s snapped. He’s hallucinating. No matter what he thinks he’s seeing, there’s no way in hell a twenty-something Michael Robinavitch is standing in front of him.
The pup is damn near identical to the mate Jack never had. His alpha wants to grab him and drag him away, get on his knees and apologize for giving up on them so easily. He shouldn’t have let Robby end their courtship without a fight, but he was so heartbroken his brain wouldn’t work and his perfect omega was out the door before Jack could even begin to wonder what he’d done wrong.
“Dr. Abbot,” the department head says. Jack hadn’t even noticed her, all his attention was wrapped in the ghost standing in front of him. “This is Dr. Carter. He’s one of our MS4s.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jack rasps. He shakes the ghost’s hand, they’re softer than Robby’s ever were, but that warm smile is exactly like he remembers.
“Nice to meet you too,” Carter says. “You know, it’s funny, my—“ The doors of the ambulance bay spring open and shouting overwhelms whatever he says.
“I’m sorry?” Jack needs to sit down, but there’s never a chance here.
Carter waves him off. “Not important.” He heads off to the trauma and Jack follows foolishly behind.
Every time Carter is on Jack’s shift he spends the whole time staring at him, wondering if he actually is his Mikey’s pup. He must be, the odds of someone else having a pup that looks exactly like him down to the crinkle by his eyes when he smiles are slim to none. Jack imagines what Robby would look like now. Stunningly beautiful, he’s certain. Those lines Jack loved would be permanently etched on his face, and he bets his thin waist has fattened sweetly with age. Jack would give anything to have seen him pregnant.
When they were courting, Jack would curl behind Robby and rub his palm over his stomach, picturing how it would feel when it expanded to grow their pup. Now, he lays in bed alone between shifts and tries not to vomit at the thought of some other alpha getting that instead.
He does the math on Carter’s age and pinches the bridge of his nose to stop himself from crying. How soon after their courtship did Robby get pupped? Was there some other alpha waiting for him while Jack thought they were planning a life together? Or worse, had already taken Robby while he was still Jack’s?
Pathetic as it is, he can’t stop the tears. Fifty years old, spending his day off sobbing in bed over an omega that had forgotten about him when their lives were still intertwined.
As gruesome as it is to see Carter happily bouncing around the ED, Jack won’t deny that he appreciates the small distraction from his pity party. He often eavesdrops on Carter’s chatting in the hopes of hearing something definitive about his mother.
One day, he overhears Carter mention that his first name is John, which is salt in the wound, but it gives Jack enough to google him like a creep without risking his coworkers finding him digging into their student’s private life.
John Carter is an unfortunately popular name, but after an hour of searching, Jack finds an Instagram account under jcartera. Carter doesn’t post very much, but there is one photo that takes Jack’s breath away.
Michael Robinavitch, twenty-five years older than the last time Jack saw him, hugging his pup tightly as they celebrate Carter’s graduation. He’s even more gorgeous than Jack imagined. His eyes shine proudly, and his smile is just as hypnotic as Jack remembered.
He clicks the photo for a closer look, and takes it in like oxygen. His eyes dart to Robby’s neck; he can’t see a bite. What idiot wouldn’t mate Robby?
Jack scrolls to the next photo and it’s as if a knife is driven into his heart. Robby looks almost exactly how Jack remembers him, the only difference is the bit of weight remaining around his jawline, and baby Carter snug against his chest.
A heavy weight slams into Jack. He wishes so badly he could’ve been the alpha that gave Robby that smile; that they could’ve had a pup and treasured them together.
Or even Carter. He’s such a wonderful young man, Jack would’ve been happy to claim him regardless of who his actual father was. He was always so weak for Robby; Jack would’ve raised any pup of his if for nothing else than to keep his dream omega in his life.
Jack goes back to the graduation photo. There’s an account tagged on Robby’s shoulder, m.robby; Jack gnaws his bottom lip and considers if this is a bridge to far, but figures he’s already past inappropriate.
Robby’s account is even emptier than Carter’s. He’s posted the same graduation picture, and a photo of a sunset with no caption. Jack sighs and goes back to Carter’s account. He stares at the two photos and imagines a whole different life.
He sees that life every time Carter’s name is mentioned for the next month. The first break he gets from the taunting fantasy comes after hours of working on the victims of a six car pile up.
Jack is taking his first real breath since the trauma was called in, sitting alone on a bench outside the ambulance bay, when Carter comes out, cheeks red and hair sticking to his forehead.
“Oh, hi, Dr. Abbot,” he smiles. Jack wonders if Carter got his ability to bounce back from his father because Robby had a nasty habit of taking every lost patient to heart.
“Hey, Carter. How you holding up?”
“Been better.” He takes the spot next to Jack. “I’m really glad that girl pulled through. She had me scared.”
“You and me both.”
Carter hums. “Maybe it’s an Abbot thing.”
Jack’s eyebrows furrow.
“I’m making a joke,” Carter laughs. “Because we have the same last name.”
All the air evaporates from Jack’s lungs. “What?”
“Just, because we were thinking the same thing and both our last names are Abbot.” Carter shrugs. “It’s stupid. There’s a reason I’m a doctor and not a comedian.”
Jack blinks, hard and heavy. “I thought your last name was Carter.”
He shakes his head. “No, Carter’s my middle name. I went by it in school, and when I continued for this rotation to avoid confusion after I found out there was already a Dr. Abbot.” He frowns. Good God, he is the absolute spit of Robby. “I thought you knew.”
“No,” Jack says, breathless.
“I told you on my first day.”
Jack’s head is spinning. “I’d definitely remember that if you did.”
Carter, Abbot, John Carter Abbot, looks at him strangely before brightening. “Oh, yeah! The trauma came in and I forgot. Huh. Doesn’t matter, I guess.”
It does matter. It matters more than anything in the world. “Your name is John Abbot,” Jack says stupidly.
“Yeah?”
“My name is John Abbot.”
Carter’s frown returns. “But… I swear I’ve heard the other attendings call you Jack?”
“That— yeah. That’s the name I’ve gone by since childhood,” he laughs shallowly. He could wake up in a padded cell at any moment. “I’m named after my uncle, so I got called Jack to avoid confusion.”
“Oh.” Carter stares at his feet. “I’m named after my dad…”
Jack grabs the back of the bench to avoid giving himself a concussion when he inevitably passes out.
Carter at him with wide, somewhat frightened, eyes. “Do you… um, did you know a Michael Robinavitch?”
“Yes,” Jack whispers. His grip on the bench tightens.
All the color in Carter’s face drains. “How well?”
“Extremely.”
A far away glaze covers Carter’s eyes, he looks as dizzy as Jack feels. “Jesus Christ.”
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