RuPaul is my biological Mother

20s | female | marvel enthusiast

[inknopewetrust]

i got a bad desire

sex had never been a problem for jack—until now.

contents: smut! twitter was asking for an erectile dysfunction fic so i started drafting and well, this might have been my calling. ED, a little blue pill, drug talk (jack’s on depression meds), some wine consumption, a whole host of second-hand embarrassment for jack, world’s best wife in the reader, and of course ED wasn’t enough… loosely inspired by 02x02.

[jack abbot x fem!reader. wc: 7.2k ]

masterlist | other jack abbot fics

He was a doctor—of course he read the side effects of his pills. Right?

Right?

God. Jack could barely think for himself let alone think what the fuck was on the prescription label. He especially couldn’t think straight when you were on top of him, fingers carding through his curls, and your chest pressed against his own.

Everything would be fine. Everything is fine.

It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him and when Jack Abbot’s internal alarm bells went off, anyone in a ten mile radius could hear them. All it took was one look, a not fully present kiss, and you knew something was amiss.

“Jack?” You murmured softly in his ear. He loved the feel of your breath; the warmth your body brought to his.

He swallowed hard. His jaw tensed as his chest shuddered in immediate nerves and your hands moved to cradle his face instead. Jack’s eyes avoided you like the plague, sticking to a spot over your shoulder in the direction of the tv.

“Yeah?” He barely whispered.

“Are you okay?”

Oh, goddamnit. Shit.

Everything was really not fucking fine.

Jack hated when his shifts never lined up with your schedule. Summer’s were easier, so were those few breaks you’d get during the year, but most weeks it felt like you were ships passing in the night.

You were his wife, not a “sometimes companion” depending on the day. So, when he had off, there was nothing he loved more than being at your side. Watching mindless television, going to the grocery store, listening to you complain about your job, and everything in between. He loved it. Jack never thought that chance would come again and when it did, he promised himself that the time he gave to you would be nothing short of devotion.

And, when the time to “love” became a little more intimate, Jack gave you everything you could ask for. You’d never had a more generous lover, in all sense of the word.

He cared so deeply about you that he was too easily forgetful about his own needs. Jack never liked when you tried to make it all about him—he’d had enough attention in the last twenty years to last him a lifetime in solitude. In return, Jack’s altar was beside you, on top of you, under you, and anywhere near you.

Therefore, when he sacrificed his time away from you to save the lives of strangers, it was only right for him to recompense through the most natural form of intimacy.

But it had been five days. Five days of back to back night shifts where he left you sleeping in bed and you left him walking out the door with your work bag in hand. There had been a light in the distance, Saturday, when his schedule finally broke and you were both off to enjoy each other’s company.

He cooked, you cleaned, and then you’d both retired to the sofa where your feet landed in his lap and a movie you’d seen a thousand times played quietly as days-long lodged conversations started to flow.

Then, you shuffled into his lap and Jack knew something was wrong before even started.

His lips met yours and you melted. You’d been so quick to fall into him, wrapping your arms around him, and pressing down into his lap that it felt needy. Tilting his head back, your fingers pulled at his curls to open him up to you. His kiss deepened and you couldn’t fight the smile on your face.

You laughed, breaking apart.

“What?” Jack asked incredulously. His eyes darted between yours as your hand brushed back his hair.

“Nothing.” You shook your head. “I just love you.”

Jack’s hands ran up and down your sides gently. “Well now it’s cheesy if I say it back.”

“No.” Your nose bumped into his. “You could never make it cheesy.”

“I’m pretty sure I could,” Jack admitted with a peck. He let his hands wander down your sides, feeling the skin of your ass before smoothing down your legs and holding them down on himself. “I love you.”

“How much?”

“Eh. ” He shrugged, leading you to lean back and swat at his chest immediately before pressing into his pecs with your palms.

“Cruel,” you gasped. “You’re just evil.”

“I don’t know about that.” He removed his hands from your body and placed them on top of yours. “But I don’t think a measurement exists for how much I really do.”

Not cruel. Just utterly adoring beyond comprehension.

You leaned in, kissing him again and again and each one ended longer than the last. He brought your hands back to his hair and encouraged a rougher grip. Jack’s tongue was the first to ask for silent permission to which you welcomed it with your own.

You couldn’t remember the last time you made out like teenagers on the couch.

And for ten minutes, you did only that.

Lips swollen and blood rushing in your body, there was something exhilarating about having waited so long to have sex this week. Five days wasn’t a world record for either of you but it felt like a necessary end to it.

Only you were expecting to feel something after ten minutes.

One of your hands slipped from his shoulders and entered the few inches of space between your bodies to grope him above his sweats. You had felt that simply being on top wasn’t enough—you would have felt his erection if you did—but this was the second time in three weeks that grinding on him didn’t work in getting him aroused.

Jack’s attention broke away from your lips and to your neck. His stubble grazed your skin with a roughness you’d only accept from his face. He lathered and sucked, teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you feel his desire through his lips.

As you met his groin, you felt the outline of his cock still limp between his spread legs. Gently trailing to the head, you molded your hand around it and rubbed to the base. Jack’s forehead fell to your shoulder and you couldn’t help but be satisfied, leaning your own into him.

Jack. Your Jack.

Your hand never stopped going. Slowly, you felt the minutes pass and you put more pressure in your grip and the air around Jack began to change. His kisses stopped, your fingers intertwined with his curls at the base of his head weren’t met with the same sighs, and his own hands loosened their grasp.

On the inside, Jack was having an existential crisis.

He knew it was going to happen.

It was the same goddamn thing from three weeks ago and he’d wrote it off as some kind of fluke. He was tired. He’d worn himself thin from a bad night and three weeks ago, sex wasn’t in the cards he’d been dealt. But now? Again?

Jack dug his forehead further into your shoulder to think—which was practically impossible for him to do in this state. Yet he tried. He thought back on any changes to his body and any signs he might have missed but the only possibilities he could think about were his age and his meds.

If it was his age, he was just about ready to croak off now. 50. Jack was only 50 fucking years old and he never imagined what the hell life would be like with erectile dysfunction at this age. He’d take it to his grave, he swore to God, but there was one other problem that he just couldn’t shake.

Those meds.

A switch from his therapist a few appointments ago to Zoloft, which was what he was supposed to be taking for years. But just like good medicine, sometimes finding the right balance was hard and it took time.

His therapist had warned him, right?

He was a doctor—of course he read the side effects of his pills. Right?

Right?

God. Jack could barely think for himself let alone think what the fuck was on the prescription label. He especially couldn’t think straight when you were on top of him, fingers carding through his curls and your chest pressed against his own.

Everything would be fine. Everything is fine.

It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him and when Jack Abbot’s internal alarm bells went off, anyone in a ten mile radius could hear them. All it took was one look, a not fully present kiss, and you knew something was amiss.

“Jack?” You murmured softly in his ear. He loved the feel of your breath; the warmth your body brought to his.

He swallowed hard. His jaw tensed as his chest shuddered in immediate nerves and your hands moved to cradle his face instead. Jack’s eyes avoided you like the plague, sticking to a spot over your shoulder in the direction of the tv.

“Yeah?” He barely whispered.

“Are you okay?”

Oh, goddamnit. Shit.

Everything was really not fucking fine.

He was falling apart. Jack couldn’t even look you in the eye because now he couldn’t have sex with his beautiful fucking wife and the world was basically ending.

“Yeah,” he barely squeaked out.

You saw through him and he could feel the pity in the way your thumbs rubbed softly on his cheeks.

“I think I need to use the bathroom,” he blurted out and discarded you to the side of the couch.

In his first attempt to stand, Jack struggled to gain momentum off the couch and the redness of embarrassment from another one of his problems inched up the back of his neck like a rash.

Holy shit, he thought. This is the worst day of my life.

He tried harder the second time to avoid your helping hands and rushed off to the bedroom, shutting the door so hard it reverberated throughout the house. Beelining for the sink, Jack’s hands strained the edges of it until his knuckles were white.

“What the fuck!” He scolded himself in a brash whisper. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?”

This wasn’t happening to him. This was all a dream. A really, god awful, terrible, no good dream that would be over in a matter of minutes. He’d wake up, sun shining, and never deal with this again.

He slapped a hand across his face. It was not a fucking dream.

“Holy shit,” Jack’s words were now nothing but saddened, pathetic whimpering. “This is not fucking happening to me right now.”

From outside the door, you leaned against the frame and let him wallow. Those little blue pills in the back of the cabinet had been pushed away out of spite and this time, you knew he just needed to face the reality of his situation. But that reality was hard to fathom after a lifetime of one activity never having been a problem. He couldn’t have just this one thing?

Jack opened the cabinet and pulled out his Zoloft bottle. Unraveling the prescription label, his eyes raced down to side effects and right there “Erectile Dysfunction” laughed at him. He tossed the bottle in the sink.

“Jack?” You knuckles rapped against the door. “Are you alright in there?”

“Fine!” He replied too quickly.

“Can I come in?”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I’d rather you not.”

“You’re not gonna dump your meds are you?”

“No,” his tone was still sad. “That’s probably a bad idea.”

Jack could hear your hum. He imagined the look on your face and how you’d probably kick him to the curb now that he was completely defective.

“Jack, I think you need to talk to me about this.”

“No,” he drug out the word. “I don’t think so.”

“Honey.”

He said your name firmly in return.

“I’m coming in.” You didn’t give him any time because as soon as he got a syllable out, the door was open.

Jack’s eyes caught yours in the mirror.

“It’s okay, Jack.”

He shook his head. “It’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well that’s easy for you to say,” he couldn’t help the attitude that slipped out. “You don’t have a broken fucking dick.”

“I don’t have a dick but I do have a libido.”

“It’s not that, baby,” Jack sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want to have sex. I do. Very badly, might I add. But it’s like this—” he pointed to his brain “—just doesn’t want to work and tell the other parts of my body to do their jobs.”

Your brows furrowed in concern. “Is it the nightmares again?”

“No.” He shook his head and realized that you didn’t fully grasp it because of two things: you weren’t in healthcare and you didn’t have PTSD like he did. “They’re fine. They’ve been fine.”

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me, Jack.”

You approached him, settling for resting your hand along his back and feeling his tense muscles underneath the fabric of his tee.

“A side effect of the meds,” he gestured weakly to the bottle in the sink. “I can’t get it up.”

“That’s one way to put it,” you mumbled and picked up the bottle.

“My doctor gave me—“ Jack didn’t want the words to form.

Your rubbed soothingly on his back. He loved you so much.

“What did he give you?”

Jack reopened the cabinet and shuffled items to the side before landing on a small white bottle with VIAGRA plastered in blue on the front. His stomach lurched at the thought of needing to take one. Jack held it tightly in his fist in a refusal to show you.

You saw the bottle immediately when he brought it home. Jack was never as sly as he thought he was. He tried hiding your engagement ring for six weeks before proposing but you found it the day after the purchase because he stuffed it the garage where he kept all the spare keys.

He just hadn’t thought that maybe you’d lock your keys inside of the house one day.

Still, he clutched onto the white bottle as though if he dropped it, his problem wasn’t real. He could keep trying. Maybe it would just take a little bit longer than normal but eventually, he’d get hard and you could sail smoothly into the night.

“Are you gonna show me?” You asked patiently.

“I don’t really want to.”

“I’m not embarrassed if you need to use one, you know?”

His eyes pinched closed. “I feel like a fucking failure.”

You exhaled deeply, placing your hand over his fist, and dipping your head to better look at him.

“Look at me, Jack.”

He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

“Jack,” you pressed once more. “Look at me.”

“This has never been a problem,” he said lowly. Jack’s tone lingered on disappointment but aired a frustration that sounded sexier than he meant it. “I don’t know why I can’t be normal in this one fucking way but of course not! Of course not. No… the goddamn leg just wasn’t enough. The stupid fucking depression and the nightmares and my joint pain isn’t enough!”

Jack rarely yelled. He bottled everything inside until it was ready to explode and it was just leaking out of him like a dam bursting.

“None of that is your fault,” you assured.

“What does it matter if it was?” He loosened the grip on the bottle and it rolled into the sink beside the Zoloft.

“Jack. I don’t care if we have sex tonight, okay? It’s not the end of the world for me.”

“It sure fucking feels like it for me.”

“I know it does,” you empathized. “But if you’re not ready to try the pills, then we don’t have to do anything. I can wait for you.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Jack whispered. “This is so inconvenient.”

“What would life be without them?”

He breathed in as your hand continued to rub his back and calm him down. Jack glanced down at the bottle, cursing the elephant in the room. He mumbled underneath his breath and even though you were standing beside him, you didn’t catch it.

“What?”

“It takes…” his words were muffled again.

“Are you having a stroke?” You asked honestly.

“No,” he heaved. “If I take one… it would take around an hour to work.”

“Okay,” you replied cautiously. It was his choice, you made that clear.

“And it’s not like… magical. Plus we had a whole bottle of wine with dinner and that might make it worse.”

“Trying to get hard or the erection?”

“Both?” He said like it was a question. He’s the doctor. He should know.

“If you wanted to try it, and it doesn’t work out, then you never have to use one again.”

Jack hummed. “I might have to eat you out for awhile.”

“Jesus,” you laughed. “Don’t try to be sly about it.”

His lips quirked into a small smile, one you’d missed seeing in his despair. Jack picked up the bottle and unscrewed the cap.

“I swear to God that if anything goes wrong, I will jump off the fucking roof.”

“You can’t say that,” you lamented. “You’re literally the last person who should joke about that.”

“I’m kidding.” He popped a pill into his mouth. “I can’t let you fall in love with someone else.”

“How kind of you to think about me.”

Jack flipped on the sink, cupped his hands under the faucet, and swallowed the pill in one gulp. There was no turning back now.

“Well?” You asked him as he wiped his mouth dry.

“Well what?”

“You want to finish what you started?”

He locked eyes with you in the mirror and opened his mouth to object to the statement. You climbed into his lap. You kissed him first. But he saw a glimmer of hope that maybe the little blue pill would be a good thing for the both of you tonight and forgot about it. Jack nodded instead.

“Get on the bed.”

Whatever the little blue pill did, it gave Jack an ounce of courage back and fuck, could you feel it.

Jack had been on you from the moment you laid down on the bed. In silence, he stripped off your clothes one by one and settled between your thighs ready to give. And for the past thirty minutes, you’d been close twice before he drew back and smiled at you as his cheek rested against your leg.

Every time he did, you had to look away.

He was so sweet. Jack, the man who does anything for anyone, looked at you like you held the moon.

You fought a grin by biting down on your lip and had your arm flying over your eyes to shield his own impenetrable stare from reaching you. And then his mouth was on you again, tongue lightly flicking your clit as he slipped two fingers inside.

You writhed, body shaking lightly in pleasure as his hands grew more firm around your thighs and minimized any distance between you. Jack figured if he could lay atop the mattress and grind into it that it would replace the need for you to jerk him off for five minutes, and he was right.

The combination of periodically rutting against the mattress, listening to your sweet sounds, and feeling you squeeze his fingers was sheer poison.

He curled his fingers up inside of you, sliding them in and out in the same direction until your moans turned into a whine that spelled out his name.

“Jack,” you breathed in heavily.

Your hand fell from your eyes and trailed over one of your breasts, squeezing it, pinching the nipple just hard enough before fanning out on the comforter. Jack removed his fingers to let his tongue sink lower, pushing into you softer and wetter than before. His mouth devoured you; a sickening slurp of his saliva and your wetness had your mouth falling open, silent in disbelief that not an hour ago, you didn’t think this was going to happen.

“S-shit, Jack.”

He slowed down, sparing a glance at your face before deciding to back off. His pointer finger replaced where his nose was grazing your clit. Jack pressed down there, moving in small circles as your hips moved with him.

“That feel good?” He asked softly.

“I think that fucking pill gave you superpowers,” you spat out fast. “Holy shit.”

“Magical” his ass. It was certifiably otherworldly.

“Might just have been a long time since we’ve done this.”

You agreed, moaning a “yeah” in reply.

“Sweetheart,” Jack said like a question. “I hate to do this to you…”

“What?” You sat up so quickly that you got a little dizzy. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jack couldn’t hide his blush. There was no easy way to say “I’m hard now, let me fuck you” after having a meltdown.

His throat bobbed and you caught it.

“You ready?”

Jack nodded and you retuned it with a nod of your own. “Okay, yeah. Alright—”

“Why does this feel like I’m losing my virginity again?” He joked. His laugh barely sounded like one because the second he sat up on his knees, his erection was all he could look at.

Jack had never been embarrassed by his cock before.

“If this is how you lost your virginity, I’d be a little nervous,” you scoffed. “Sit back against the headboard.”

He didn’t argue with you which was a rarity it terms of control. Nothing was really in his control right now and it was making his anxiety shoot through the roof.

Jack shuffled back to the headboard and slipped off his shirt. He helped you pull down his sweats carefully and even though he didn’t feel like you had to be, he was grateful for your gentleness. At the sight of his prosthetic, you tipped your head knowingly at him.

“Why didn’t you take this off yet?”

“I forgot,” he feigned innocence.

“Mhm,” you judged and took it off for him. “Sure you did.”

With his prosthetic resting on the floor against the bedside table, you resumed your position in his lap and wrapped an arm around his shoulder while your free hand wrapped around him. You’d never been with someone who needed to take a Viagra before. Jack felt different and you knew how he felt in your hands.

His dick felt firmer—less like his own and more like one that was being controlled.

Your hand went from tip to base and back and he jolted.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “It’s like my nerves are on fire.”

“Does it feel bad?”

His nose brushed yours as he shook his head. Jack didn’t tell you to stop so you kept pumping him mildly.

“It feels really fucking good, actually.”

“Yeah?” You smiled.

“Yeah.”

Jack kissed you with everything he could muster. He gripped your bare hips tightly, sinking his fingers into your skin until he felt like you weren’t going to disappear. You put more tension in your fist and he groaned, precum escaping him and making your job easier.

“Do you feel like you’re ready?” You kissed him lazily, pulling on his bottom lip enough for it to bounce back.

He chased your lips. “What if—”

“Honey,” you soothed. “We’ll get there, okay?”

“Okay,” he accepted. He nodded, looking you in the eye and giving you the reassurance he also needed.

Lifting up in his lap, you guided him to your entrance and sunk down slowly. The feeling was overwhelming and you both needed time to adjust. Jack’s head fell back against the bed frame as far as he could go, clenching his jaw enough where the muscles strained on his face.

“You’re fine, Jack,” you cooed in his ear. Soft pants met his cheek as his hardness was unlike anything you’d experienced. “Breathe, baby.”

Your nails raked the base of his skull.

“Keep going,” he bit out. “You’re squeezing me so tight.”

“I guess we’ve both been ‘rejuvenated,’ huh?”

Jack wasn’t overly appreciative of your humor but you moved anyway, testing the waters of your bounces and grinds before settling into a rhythm that suited you. His cock stretched you wide and every time you sank back down, it was as though he never filled you in the first place. A spark of exhilaration bloomed. This was so different, so minutely different, that it felt new.

Jack’s hands groped your ass to help ease the strain on your thighs the longer you went. His lips swapped duties between connecting with yours and finding the skin of your neck, collarbone, and chest peppered with affection. Jack listened to your soft mewls. He soaked in the whispers of sweet nothings and the shaky gasps you couldn’t help.

He wanted you close.

Jack needed you to mold into him like he was showered in rain. He pulled you close; arms wrapped up around you so tight there was no escaping his embrace.

He nipped at your chin. Low and rough, Jack spoke to you. “I love you so much.”

Jack’s nose trailed up your cheek, bumping into yours and seeking your lips again.

“You have no idea how much I love you.”

“Jack,” you whined with a grin. A shake in your legs had him running his hands over your back, soothing you now instead.

“I know you’re ready, baby.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’m close.”

“What do you need from me?” He asked willingly.

You shook your head. “I-fuck, nothing. I just—”

Jack bent his knees the best he could and the angle his cock was hitting changed on a thrust. Deep and unforgiving, your fingernails dug into his skin hard. Jack murmured appreciation, egging you on to the finish line and neglecting himself.

You were too wrapped up in the feeling. The building of a week, the racing of your heart, to think for a second that he was nowhere near close to his orgasm.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

He felt the falter in your hips.

Your orgasm shook you from Heaven to Hell and back—even if believing it was hard to fathom. Jack’s hand flew to the back of your head, holding you into him as the aftershocks of muscle spasms lingered seconds after your breathing began to settle. You returned his kisses with your own against his neck and shoulder. The freckles on his body were reminders of all the places he had ever been kissed and you were adding to that—on top of ones that already existed, beside them, and in the spaces that laid empty of any.

He wouldn’t remember them in every lifetime but you liked to imagine that all of his freckles were kisses from you.

As your brain recovered from the fuzzy glow and you realized that Jack was still rock hard inside of you.

“Do you want me to—”

“No,” Jack cut you off. “No, it’s fine. It’s just… I think it takes time.”

“But now you haven’t even…” you trailed your response with a flick of your eyes downwards. “I can’t leave you like that.”

“Baby, it could take an hour.”

You glanced at the alarm clock on his side of the bed. The time read 11:47.

“We’ve got time.”

Jack shook his head. “I’m not gonna let you give me a handy for an hour.”

“Hey,” you tugged on his earlobe lightly. “I’ve got a mouth too.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured but you weren’t buying it. His mouth quirked to the side in thought. “Would you hate me if I asked you to clean up alone?”

You ran your thumb along his jawline.

“I could never hate you, Jack. I’ve lived this long, I think I can handle one less aftercare shower.”

“It makes me feel like an asshole.”

“You’re not. I promise you.”

Carefully, you lifted up from his lap and let him slip out. You avoided looking at him so he didn’t find another reason to be embarrassed about something that impacted millions of men—especially those who were on medication for concerns far more important than simply erectile dysfunction.

He watched you disappear into the bathroom and shut the door with a click before he put his pillow to his face and yelled into it.

The prescription tag read as follows:

Prolonged erection greater than 4 hours and priapism (painful erections greater than 6 hours in duration) have been reported infrequently since market approval of VIAGRA. In the event of an erection that persists longer than 4 hours, the patient should seek immediate medical assistance. If priapism is not treated immediately, penile tissue damage and permanent loss of potency could result.

Jack had to put his readers on to even see the label.

“… if priapism is not treated immediately, penile tissue damage and permanent loss…” he repeated the label back to himself to make sure he read it correctly.

His eyes flitted to his phone, touching the screen to light up a big 7:30 AM and a picture of both of your smiling faces beaming back at him.

This might not have been the actual worst day of his life but it was second.

His crutches clicked against the floor as he approached your side of the bed. He hated waking you up when you were clearly dead to the world. Laid face first into your pillow, he rested a hand on your back and shook you gently.

“Baby?”

You barely bristled. He repeated the action, calling out your name louder.

“Hm?” You grumbled in slight annoyance.

Jack shifted uncomfortably on the bed, wincing as he turned wrong and made his sweatpants tighter than they already were.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he started and realized how quickly those were the wrong words. You sat up abruptly, face twisted in concern as he tried not to cry from the pain his fucking dick won’t stop causing.

“What!?” You searched his face for an answer. “What happened!?”

“You gotta calm down.” Jack moved his arm to block your view.

“About what? What’s wrong?”

“I seem to be having a little… complication.”

Your brows furrowed. “A complication?”

Jack clicked his tongue with a nod. Your eyes darted down too obviously to his pants and back to his face. His erection was blatant. It practically waved at you from behind his arm.

“Does it have anything to do with that?” You said above a whisper. “Why do you have such bad morning wood?”

Jack groaned, again, completely at odds with himself.

“Remember when we had that bottle of red with dinner?” You nodded. “Well it turns out that sometimes while meds can cause the problem, mixing alcohol with the little blue pill causes… other problems.”

“And this can’t be solved with an orgasm?”

“Not after more than six hours.”

Your eyes bugged out of your head. “Six hours!? Jack, what the fuck!”

“I thought it was going to go away!”

You swiftly moved out of bed and shrugged on a sweatshirt. Jack watched you pilfer the room for socks and shoes and leggings and just sat there helplessly on the edge of the bed with his crutches one inch from sliding off of it. You didn’t say anything and that made it worse for him.

“I’m sorry,” Jack spoke up.

“What are you sorry for?” You opened his drawer and pulled out a fresh tee. “It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like it is.”

“Well it’s not, Jack. So stop apologizing and get your leg on.”

“I can’t bend over.”

You tossed the shirt to him. “We’re going in.”

“Where?”

“The ED.”

“No,” he said with a nervous laugh. “No the fuck we are not.”

“You say that like you have a choice, Mr. Abbot.” Oh. He didn’t like that. “Turns out that doctors are truly the worst patients. Your night shift is gone, Robby’s gotta be—”

“I am not letting Robby see me like this.” The thought repulsed him so badly that it made his skin crawl.

“Then someone else will help us,” you clarified. “The longer we wait the worse I’ll assume it will be for you. I’m not driving you to Presby or Mercy when I know the ones that can help you the best.”

“I’ll never live this down.” His eyes filled with ashamed tears and every now and then, you’d seen Jack down on his luck.

A terrible shift, a long week, anniversaries he’d rather not have… but he stared at you from the bed and he looked so small. His salt and pepper hair was flat from restless sleep and the scruff on his face couldn’t hide the jumble of thoughts pouring out of him. You moved to stand in front of him, grasping his face between two hands, and forcing him to look you in the eye.

“You are the strongest, most resilient man I have ever met. You’ve taken care of me more times than I can count and now, it’s my turn to help you the best way I know how. This is bad now, yeah… it is,” you nodded in agreement, “but it’s not forever. After this, you’ll call your therapist and tell him what happened and we will try again when things are better.”

A tear steamed down his cheek and you wiped it away with your finger.

“It’s okay to be embarrassed, honey.”

“I’m gonna make this up to you,” Jack settled. “I promise.”

“Okay.” You didn’t need him to. However, if it made him feel better, sure. Your hands tapped his face twice before letting go. “Let’s go, Soldier.”

The PTMC Emergency Room wasn’t an unfamiliar sight, but it wasn’t one you frequented.

It bustled with far too much chaos and while your own career had its fair share, there was something about Jack’s place of work that made you feel ill just looking at it. Death, hurt, pain, and suffering wrapped up in four walls, some windows, and doors.

And now Jack sat outside of it in a wheelchair because he refused to go in on his crutches.

“Just go in and tell Dana I’m out here.”

“Someone is going to have to come and get you anyway, so just come with me.”

Jack begged, “please.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Luckily, Dana was talking with a young nurse at the hub when the ambulance bay doors opened wide. You kept in a straight line to her, not distracted by the sounds and the yelling coming from one of the many rooms. Dana was halfway through a sentence when she glanced over her shoulder and did a double take.

“Hey stranger,” she beamed. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

The young nurse beside her, Emma, smiled at you in the awkward way you did when you didn’t know someone’s friend.

“Hi Dana,” you greeted.

“Jack’s not here,” her eyes questioned you. Jack had been scheduled off for the next couple days so there was no telling where he’d be other than at his house.

“Well,” you let out a loose, barely amused chuckle, “funny you should say that.”

“Is he okay?”

“Not really… I just—we just—need this on the down low, alright? He really doesn’t want anyone to know he’s here.”

She nodded understandingly and grabbed an iPad from the counter. “Where is he?”

“Out in the ambulance bay. I put him in a wheelchair.”

“Should I get Robb—”

“No!” You said loudly and shook your head. “God, no. Sorry.”

Emma jumped at the sound and her eyes darted to the bay. “Can I help?”

Your face scrunched. Jack would rather not traumatize a new nurse so early in the shift.

“Is Donnie around? Or Dr. Al-Hashimi?”

“Yeah.” Dana patted Emma on the shoulder. “Go get ‘em and we’ll put Dr. Abbot in Room 7.”

Dana rounded the hub and put a hand on your shoulder. As she stepped further away, she pressed about the situation.

“You know, you two aren’t getting any younger. You can’t go at it like rabbits.”

“Dana,” you scolded with a smile. “That’s—that’s not it.”

“What happened?”

All that was needed to be said were three little words:

“Little blue pill.”

Jack heard the hiss of the ambulance bay open and Dana walked up to him with a laugh buried in her throat. Jack was wearing a hat and glasses like a superhero in disguise and his backpack flipped over so no one could see the name angled in his lap.

“Don’t fucking say it, Evans. Don’t.”

“I’m not!” She held up her hands in defense.

“Dana said she’s gonna help. No one needs to know.”

You grabbed his crutches off the wall and followed closely as Dana wheeled him into Room 7 and pulled the curtains. She left still fighting amusement as Donnie entered with Baran.

“Dr. Abbot,” she said fondly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“I think we both had different ideas about how today would go.”

Jack took off his glasses and hat, passing them off to you. The bag stayed lumped in his lap.

“So, what brings you in today?”

There was a second of silence and then:

“I seem to have a bit of a… priapism problem.”

Baran’s eyes widened and Donnie hesitated putting on his second glove.

“And how long has the erection lasted?” Jack hated how she pronounced the word loud and clear. He looked at you, shrugging for a loose approximation of time.

“Maybe around… since 11 or so?” You informed.

“So somewhere around 8 hours?” She asked and motioned for Donnie to put the bed rails down. “Does that seem accurate?”

You both nodded. Donnie wheeled Jack over to the bed and he hesitated, looking at you to help him instead. You handed Jack his crutches and as he stood, both Donnie and Baran tried to be respectful and looked away from Jack’s body.

“Dr. Abbot, I’m going to have to ask you some questions about your medical history, medications, and so forth. Is that okay with you?”

“I think you can just call me Jack now,” he grunted as he shuffled onto the bed.

“Can you tell me what medications you take?”

“I-uh, take um, 100 mg of Zoloft, 3 mg of Prazosin for sleeping, and Cyclobenzaprine as needed, 5 mg three times a day, but I haven’t needed it lately.”

“And for the priapism problem?” She slipped on her own gloves.

“I took one Viagra.”

“Have you taken one before?”

“No,” Jack admitted. “My therapist changed one of my medications to Zoloft two months ago and ordered it as a precaution.”

Baran nodded in understanding and as she sat down on a stool and rolled closer, Jack’s hand shot out to yours and squeezed tightly.

“Did he explain the side effects of taking those medications together?”

“Yes,” Jack recalled. “But we must have had… three glasses of wine last night and I’m pretty certain that’s the reason it won’t go away. A reaction, if you will.”

“You’re not wrong.” She smiled at him kindly, then to you.

“How long have you been married? I don’t think we’ve ever met.”

“Six years,” you told her. “And it seems we’re always finding something new to experience together.”

“It’s a good thing,” Baran assured. “Imagine living a life where it’s normal and boring all the time. At least you’ll be able to laugh about it later.”

Her eyes found Jack’s and he knew she needed to look at him more closely.

“What happens in this room, Dr. Abbot, stays in this room. Got it?”

He nodded and focused on a spot across the wall as Donnie hovered behind Baran. Your hand covered his, rubbing gentle circles to ease the discomfort.

“Was this a special occasion or something?” Donnie asked Jack. “Or just a regular Saturday night for you two?”

“Just a Saturday night,” he said shyly. Jack, being bashful? You relished it.

“I gotta say Doc, your wife’s a lucky woman. Who knew Dr. Abbot hit the genetic lottery.”

The blush that overtook his body was a deeper red than his penis. Your hand flew to your mouth, covering the choked laugh before it could escape but Donnie was grinning like the Cheshire Cat and keeping it in was practically impossible. Baran bit down on her tongue.

But Jack knew how to bite back too. “If your idea of the genetic lottery is a guy with 1.75 legs, then sure. Whatever floats your boat.”

“Okay.” Baran finished her inspection.

“I have a feeling this isn’t a cold compress kind of procedure,” Jack wished.

Baran shook her head.

“We’re going to need to aspirate.”

Jack was back on his crutches after an hour with a soreness that would last hours.

“I don’t think I need to tell you what you can and cannot do in the next 24 hours,” Baran opened up the curtain and immediately Jack locked eyes with Dana.

“No, you don’t.”

“Maybe also speak to your therapist about the prescription the next time you go?”

Jack gave you a closed mouth smile. “I already heard that from this one.”

“She knows what she’s talking about it seems,” Baran nodded in approval.

The door opened up and Donnie held it for Jack to escape from. The RN held out his fist, asking Jack wordlessly to bump it.

Jack obliged.

“My man,” Donnie grinned. He slapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder before walking to a computer.

“I’m never filling in for day shift again, ever,” Jack told you over his shoulder.

“All good, Jack?” Dana asked from the hub as you both passed by.

“Never better.” Jack kept going towards the door.

“Thanks Dana for your help,” you said appreciatively. “If he never tells you, he’s thankful too. And I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

The doors to Trauma Bay 2 opened with a whoosh. Jack, still on the slow run on his crutches out of the ED never looked back, but Robby caught sight of him as he sanitized his hands.

“Woah!” He exaggerated. “What’s Jack doing here?”

“He’s going home,” Dana informed and you gave a small wave to Jack’s work wife. He hated when you called Robby that but it didn’t make it any less true.

“Just a little accident.”

“Jack!” Robby called after him but Jack didn’t care.

“Adios! Goodbye!” He said your name loudly followed by a “hurry up!”

You tapped the counter. “Sorry. The princess needs a ride home.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to call him that,” Robby laughed.

“It’s the least of his problems right now.”

They watched you trail behind your husband who, once through the second door, turned and waited for you patiently. You kissed him gently before walking out of view and inside of the PTMC, the world continued to turn.

Robby looked at Dana with a question and Baran walked away before he could ask her anything remotely related to Jack. But Donnie… Donnie just can’t keep anything to himself.

He turned to Robby in his swivel chair.

“Did you know Abbot’s packin’ heat down there?”

A/N: i wrote this straight over three days after not writing for about a year. crazy how that works, huh?

i hope the twitter divas find this.

comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! it keeps us writing!

a loose sequel has been posted: the heart skips a beat

[wannabespacesmuggler]

DO NOT DISTURB ➵ J. ABBOT

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Jack Abbot's relaxing day off takes a turn for the worse when he hears his phone ring. After all, his phone is on do not disturb and there's only one person that he's allowed to interrupt his peace — you. Even worse, your voice isn't the first thing he hears when he picks up.

Pairing: Jack Abbot x nurse!reader

Warnings: f!reader, violence against healthcare workers, language, mentions of bodily harm, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries sustained at the workplace, use of the word 'assault', Jack Abbot's dead wife mentioned, description of a drunk driving accident, Frank Langdon catches some strays, use of the nickname 'sweetheart', use of the nickname 'slugger', no use of y/n, mutual pining, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 5.5k

Author's Note: Yo — so I'm still alive. I have been stuck in The Pitt for awhile now. This one has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for a hot second. I also have a Robby fic sitting in there that I desperately need to finish. Those two men have truly bewitched me. Anyways, hope y'all are ready to be stuck in The Pitt with me for the time being. Hope you guys enjoy this one!

BEEP

BEEP

BEEP

“Motherfucker!”

You angrily hit the coffee maker that has been causing the entire emergency department trouble for the majority of today’s shift. Langdon had watched you struggle earlier this morning before swooping in to fix the problem with a swift hit to the side of the machine and an off hand comment about having the ‘magic touch’. So, you imitate his actions now — hoping another dose of caffeine will help get you through the last couple hours of your shift. The machine stops its incessant beeping just as it had hours ago, but instead of brewing a fresh cup of mediocre coffee, the interactive screen goes completely black. 

Great. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and take in a deep breath. If Jack were here, he’d miraculously show up beside you with a latte in hand. You don’t know how he does it, but the man just knows exactly what you need and when you need it — you’ve taken to calling it his ‘sixth sense’. In reality, that’s Jack — observant and steadfast. 

You miss the night shift.

It’s not that you dislike the day shift. In fact, you happily accepted Dana’s request for your help covering for Donnie during his paternity leave. In Robby’s words: they needed another nurse practitioner on the day shift and there’s only one that he trusts. A part of you thinks that it was just flattery to get you to come to the light side, but deep down you know that Robby only knows how to speak honestly. Lena wasn’t necessarily happy to let her best help switch shifts for an extended period of time, but she also knows that the ED is a team — sure the staff is split between day shift and night shift, but things only run smoothly when the shifts help each other out. 

Jack wasn’t too keen on the idea. 

He couldn’t stop you of course — Lena is your supervisor, not him. But that didn’t stop him from voicing his concerns. Jack Abbot has always been protective of his nightcrawlers, but there was something verging on possessive in the way he told Robby that this is simply a temporary arrangement after he realized he couldn’t change your mind. 

“Should I call Ahmad to escort the caffeine criminal off the premises or do you have a handle on the situation?”

Robby’s voice breaks through your thoughts. You let out a sigh before turning to face the day shift’s senior attending. His expression, usually threaded with deep exhaustion and stoicism, is teetering on the edge of playfulness while a small smile tugs at his lips. 

“Y’know what, Robinavitch? We never had this problem when we had the old machine. Mr. Coffee only had three buttons and never betrayed me.”

Robby lets out a breath through his nose — not quite a laugh, but the closest he’ll get to one this late into his shift. Gloria had decided to get the department a fancy new coffee maker that makes individual cups instead of a full pot a few weeks ago to celebrate improved patient satisfaction scores. What was meant to be a gesture of goodwill from upstairs has become the staff’s worst nightmare.

“You sound like Jack.”

You roll your eyes, but you also know no one has been more upset about this change than the night shift’s senior attending. Robby has always brought his own coffee from home, but Jack has been relying on the emergency department’s supply of shitty coffee for the entirety of his career at PTMC. You’d asked him about it once when you first started working together and he’d revealed under fluorescent lights that there was something comforting about the way it reminded him of the coffee rations he’d receive during his deployments. 

“Have you talked to Jack recently?”

Robby attempts to sound nonchalant; however, you know him better than that. You’ve come to terms with the fact that he’s worse than the night shift nurses. Always needing to be in the know about everything and everyone. He swears that it’s because he’s the senior attending, so it’s his responsibility to keep an eye and ear on all of his staff. But Jack isn’t like that. He’s always been reserved and professional during shifts, always keeping his staff at a distance so he doesn’t get too attached — everyone except for you. In between cups of coffee and rooftop conversations, you managed to slip through the cracks of that cool, steely exterior.

“We talk during handover, but that’s not exactly the same as working a twelve hour shift with someone. Why? Anything I should be concerned about?”

Robby’s lips pull into a tight smile at your response, but anxiety finds its place in your chest. During handoff about a week ago, Mateo had pulled you aside to ask if you had any idea what was going on with Jack. Your brow furrowed as Mateo filled you in about Jack’s sudden change in demeanor with his staff — the once calm and collected attending has been increasingly impatient and scattered. You’d reassured Mateo that it was probably just stress related since Jack hadn’t had a day off in months — and even then he spent his rare off-call moments volunteering as a SWAT medic. You figured that Jack had finally hit a wall and was running on fumes, but Robby’s words were now making you second your assumptions.

“Nothing of concern, just looking out for you and Jack.”

Robby has this tone that makes it seem like he knows more about your relationship with Jack Abbot than you do. You know about his history with the night shift’s senior attending physician, but Robby hasn’t been there for the close calls at three o’clock in the morning when Jack puts his complete trust in your hands without a second thought. He hasn’t been there for the nights that seem to drag on for days when it seems like the sun will never rise again. He hasn’t been there for the hushed conversations in stairwells when the night feels darkest and the only comfort to be found in PTMC is in each other’s presence. 

It’s not a bond built on flirtation — God knows, Jack Abbot flirts with everyone. And does that make you a little jealous? Maybe. And were you hoping that the distance created due to being on day shift for a few weeks would help you create some boundaries with the man? Possibly. But here you are, still infuriatingly infatuated with a man you have absolutely no chance with. 

“I can assure you there’s no Jack and I.”

“Mhm.”

That damn tone again. You want to smack that smug look right off of his stupid face, but before you get the chance to fire back a commotion outside abruptly ends your conversation. The two of you move in tandem, Robby holding the door to the break room open as you duck under his arm before surveying the scene. Your eyes immediately widen as you spot Langdon attempting to keep two infuriated men on their separate gurneys as they yell over each other. He meets your eyes before moving his gaze to Robby, relief flooding his features.

“A little help here?”

You and Robby share a brief, knowing look before dividing and conquering the situation. Robby steps in, wheeling one of the men away while you follow after Landgon who is moving with the other. 

“What’s the story here?”

You have to shout over the man’s incessant yelling, but Langdon ducks his head down slightly as he navigates the gurney through the ED to hear you better in the chaos. From not too far away, you hear Robby yell for Whitaker to take over his unruly patient so he can go find Ahmad for back up. Langdon’s shoulder bumping into yours pulls your attention back to your own situation.

“Bar argument gone ugly.”

The man laying on the gurney is bleeding profusely from lacerations on his forehead, but is cognescent enough to keep loudly threatening the other patient that came in with him. You manage to get a closer look at his wounds once Langdon locks the gurney in place and through the deep crimson you see little, semi-translucent pieces of debris. Your brow furrows as the light catches one of the pieces.

“Is that glass?”

Langdon nods before meeting your eyes with a crooked smile plastered on his face. 

“Beer bottle to the head. Told you it got ugly.”

You let out a breath before gloving up with Langdon. As the two of you attempt to assess his injuries the man begins to fight you both off, pushing your hands away before either of you can start getting control of the bleeding. You pull back hoping to get the man’s attention so that Langdon can start giving him the care he needs. 

“Sir, I’m gonna need you to calm down so that we can take a look at your injuries. Can you tell me your name?”

Finally, the man’s eyes land on you but they are filled with nothing but unbridled fury. You fight off the urge to take a step back from the situation and, instead, stand your ground. 

“What I need is to get my hands on that son of a bitch who tried to fucking kill me. Can you help me with that?”

You raise both of your hands as the man fights off Langdon once again. He gives you an exasperated look as his shoulders slump in annoyance. 

“I can not, this is a hospital not a fighting ring. What I can help you with is getting your bleeding under control and taking that glass out of your head before you get a nasty infection. How’s that sound?”

Your tone is stern but gentle as you attempt to talk the patient down. For a moment, his face softens in understanding and you almost let out a sigh of relief after having gotten through to him, but then Whitaker’s voice tears through the moment.

“I’ve got a runner, incoming!”

“Oh, shit.”

Langdon’s tone makes your heart rate spike, but before you get a chance to turn towards the commotion Whitaker’s very angry patient shoves you into the wall.

“We need some help in here! You good?”

Langdon’s worried eyes are locked on you as he tries to keep the two patients from tearing each other apart. Your shoulder took the brunt of the impact, but you had managed to stay on your feet which saved you from any additional trauma. After catching your breath, you leap in to help restrain the patient who just assaulted you.

“Sir, please. We need you to calm down!”

Your words fall on deaf ears as he continues to lunge at your patient who is now being held back by Langdon. What a fucking mess. You haven’t had a situation like this since last year’s Fourth of July night shift when two drunken men came into the E.D. after one of them practically eviscerated his buddy’s legs after shooting off a firework directly at him. Your eyes desperately meet Langdon’s, hoping he’s in the same boat as you, and he gives you a similar look of bewilderment.

“Whitaker! Ahmad! Anyone!”

Langdon’s voice is strained as the man in his arms struggles against his hold. You’re using all of your strength to pull Whitaker’s patient away from your own, but he’s got at least a foot and a hundred pounds on you. Keeping him restrained is taking all of your strength. Finally, Whitaker’s shoes squeak as he slides into the room.

“Woah, what can I do?”

Langdon gives him a ludicrous look before his eyes land on you.

“Give them a hand, will ya?”

Whitaker immediately jumps in to help you. You were hoping the additional body could help even the odds with these men; however, they seem to be getting more violent by the minute. The man in your grasp reels back and shoves Whitaker, who stumbles back. Now with only you holding him back, he takes this as a chance to take a swing on Langdon. 

“Absolutely not!”

You grab his arm and pull back before he can land a punch. The man lets out a desperate, angry cry and swings his arm back hard. His elbow connects with your nose with a loud crack. The room explodes further than you thought was possible as you spit out the blood draining into your mouth due to the blow. The searing hot pain blooming across your face blinds your vision. 

Fuck, that hurt. 

You blink once, then twice — your eyes finally adjusting to the damage. Your patient has seemingly settled down enough to be left alone, while Langdon has your assailant in a chokehold as Whitaker tries to pin his arms behind his back. 

“What the hell is going on in h—?”

Robby’s words die in his throat once his eyes land on you. His face twists into concern for a brief, fleeting moment before a dangerous rage washes over his hardened features.

“Knock it off before I knock you out.”

Robby’s voice is ice cold and it suddenly pauses the entire room. The only noise filling your ears is everyone’s heavy breathing. Robby lets everyone cool down for a moment before barking out orders.

“Ahmad, get this man out of here. Whitaker, take over the patient who didn’t attack one of our nurses. Langdon, with me.”

Everyone complies instantly and you let out a relieved sigh as the tension in the room finally dissipates. Robby makes his way to you in two large strides with Langdon behind him. He drops his head to meet your eyes which have regained their comforting warmth.

“How you doing, Slugger?”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing, really.”

Robby raises a brow as you spit more blood on to the floor, narrowly missing his sneaker. Langdon gives you a similar incredulous look. Obviously, your attempts to brush off their concern have fallen on deaf ears. Great. Two hours from shift change and now you’re a patient. 

This day can’t get any worse. 

Robby takes another step forward and carefully places a hand on your chin and gently tilts your head up toward the ceiling. You grimace immediately at the bright, fluorescent lights above you.

“You’ve got two black eyes, a broken nose, and you’re bleeding all over the floor. This isn’t nothing.”

His voice is surprisingly gentle and his features soften into a look you can only describe as brotherly concern. You sigh defeatedly, squeezing your eyes shut as the adrenaline in your body begins to subside giving way to an invasive and persistent shooting pain in your head. Robby’s hands find your shoulders — you aren’t sure if the physical contact is meant to provide you comfort or a precaution in case you pass out. Either way, you appreciate the way his delicate hold grounds you back into this moment.

“I’m going to have Langdon take you to an empty room and do a full exam. Okay?”

You open your eyes again and nod at his question. Robby’s posture relaxes slightly, obviously relieved that you didn’t stubbornly push back against his orders. He rubs your shoulders reassuringly for a moment before speaking again.

“We’re going to have to document all of this. Dana is dealing with a situation in chairs, but I’ll have her come find you when she’s done.”

You nod again, pursing your lips together into a straight line. You don’t love the idea of making a big deal out of this, but you also know that violence against health care professionals is at an all time high. The last thing this department needs is you trying to push this under the rug. Finally, Robby releases his hold on your shoulders and allows Langdon to step in.

Robby runs both his hands through his hair as he watches Langdon lead you towards a room at the back of the ED. He moves towards the hub in the center of the large room, gripping the countertop as he allows himself a moment to gather his thoughts. This is a nightmare. He needs to call Gloria about the situation that just happened. There’s  a stack of paperwork that needs to be filled out. Someone has to alert the authorities. And worst of all, he needs to call Abbot.

Hopefully, the asshole that assaulted you will be off the premises before the night shift attending rips through the emergency department. Not because he cares for the wellbeing of your assailant — more so that he doesn’t necessarily want to bail his best friend out of jail tonight. Robby sighs as he digs his phone out of his pocket. He finds Jack’s contact easily in his favorites and presses the speaker to his ear. To his surprise, the call immediately goes to voicemail. Robby knows that Jack has the day off; however, he’s always easy to reach — especially if you’re on shift. So, he dials the number again and presses the phone to his ear. But just like before, he is once again met with Jack’s voice apologizing for missing the call. That’s odd. His brow furrows, but before he can think about his friend’s odd behavior further he’s distracted by a concerned voice behind him. 

“I heard about what happened. Dana’s almost done in chairs. How can I help?”

Robby turns to look at Perlah who is currently trying to catch her breath from her obvious sprint over to him.

“Do you know who their emergency contact is?”

If he can’t get ahold of Jack, he might as well let your other loved ones know what happened. Perlah side steps the attending and logs in to one of the computers on the other side of the counter. It only takes a couple seconds to pull up your digital file and a smile spreads across the nurse’s features as she spots the name listed.

“Abbot.”

Of course he is.

“I can’t get a hold of him.”

Perlah’s expression reflects his own confusion for a moment until she remembers a conversation she had with you in the break room earlier this morning. 

“He’s gone fishing.”

Robby’s eyes shoot to his hairline as a laugh bubbles in his chest. He attempts to picture his friend in a boat by himself on the river with a fishing rod in his hand, but his mind cannot seem to compute that absolutely ludicrous concept.

“Abbot is fishing?”

“Apparently they convinced Abbot to actually take a day off, put his phone on do not disturb, and find a hobby that doesn’t involve getting shot at.”

Robby’s eyes drift to the room he watched Langdon escort you to as he attempts to wrap his head around the information he was just given. Jack Abbot is fishing on his rare day off because you asked him to find a hobby that doesn’t involve putting himself in harm’s way — and he listened. He wants to be impressed, but instead he’s just annoyed at the two of you — he’s fucking tired of watching the two of you dance around your feelings for one another. He looks down at his phone again, still confused at how his paranoid best friend could actually relax when he’s unreachable while you’re still on the clock.

Oh. 

The realization hits him like a slap to the face and he looks up at Perlah who is still anxiously waiting for the attending to start barking out orders. 

“Do you think you can manage to get their phone?”

Perlah frowns for a moment, confused by his question. And then her face lights up as she comes to the same realization as the attending standing in front of her. A smile pulls at her lips as she nods at Robby’s request.

“I think I can manage that.”

Jack Abbot enters the emergency department like a hurricane — his presence immediately disrupting the fragile peace they’ve managed to establish since your assault. Robby meets him at the door, stopping him before he can cause any unnecessary damage. 

“Where is she?”

Robby frowns. Abbot’s voice is lacking its usual warmth — in its place is a fiery, impatient intensity. 

“Let’s just cool down for a second. She’s alright — getting checked out by Langdon as we speak. Okay, Jack?”

Abbot’s brown eyes darken at Robby’s words. His posture stiffens and he’s suddenly aware that he’s no longer looking at his best friend. No, the man standing before him is a devoted soldier with one mission and God help anyone who gets in his way — he certainly isn’t dumb enough to stand between the two of you. 

“Exam room 11.”

Abbot brushes past Robby without another word and marches toward the back of the emergency department. He finally feels like he can breathe again as he enters the doorway and watches Langdon press an icepack to your nose. You flinch away from him and Frank lets out an exasperated sigh.

“You are a horrible patient.”

“Well, you’re a horrible nurse. You have to be gentle.”

Abbot leans against the doorframe, his body relaxing now that he’s heard the sound of your voice. A smile pulls at the corners of his lips at your defiance. Eventually, Langdon pulls the icepack away from your face and his blood runs cold as he gets a look at your injuries. It takes every ounce of what’s left of his self control to stay put, instead of forcing Robby to let him know who did this to you.

“I’ve got it from here, Langdon. You can get back to work.”

Both of your heads snap towards the attending standing in the doorway, but Jack’s eyes never leave yours. He watches as your expression shifts from confusion to relief before taking a few steps into the small exam room.

“Hey, Abbot. I’m actually almost done here. The rest of the exam will only take a minute.”

Jack finally regards the other man in the room, but his demeanor shifts to annoyance as Langdon continues to occupy your personal space — as he watches another man’s fingers glide gently over your cheek while he’s standing right there. The sight makes him sick to his stomach as a pervasive, ugly feeling claws at his chest.

“Langdon. Out. Now.”

Langdon’s movements suddenly still and the room immediately feels too small for the three of you. Luckily, the resident does what Jack says and exits the room without sparing you a second glance. Jack’s cold demeanor melts as soon as he hears the door close behind Langdon. 

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Jack’s voice fills the room and you finally feel safe. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you hear his boots take careful, calculated footsteps move towards you. This is a dream — it must be. Jack’s fishing today, unreachable until after your shift ends. But then he’s standing in front of you, invading your personal space in a way that’s so undeniably him. You finally look up, meeting his piercing gaze and you swear his jaw ticks slightly as he takes in the full extent of your injuries. 

“It looks worse than it is.”

It’s a lie, but all you want is to smooth out the worried creases on his forehead. Jack tilts his head slightly at your words — considering them for a moment. His hands move slowly allowing you time to pull away, but you let him cradle your face with a tenderness that feels misplaced in this environment. His thumb gently brushes under your eye, where deep purple bruising has made its temporary home, and you flinch away from his touch before he even makes it to the worst of your injuries. Jack pulls his hands away from you and you involuntarily frown — a smirk plays at the corner of his lips as he watches the way you chase his touch. 

“Do me a favor?”

You nod at his question — not fully trusting your voice at this moment. Jack bows his head slightly, meeting you eye to eye. His gaze is a raging wildfire of emotions. It’s a stark contrast to his calm demeanor and steady hands.

“Don’t lie to me.”

You roll your eyes at this as he stands to his full height again. His hands find their way back to you again, settling on your knees as he begins assessing your injuries further. You lean in closer to him without even thinking about it — it’s like Jack Abbot is the sun and you’re simply a planet trapped in his orbit.  

“How are you here?”

Jack’s brows knit together at your question, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. His thumb absentmindedly rubs gentle, grounding circles against your scrubs as his gaze trails over every visible wound on your face. 

“What do you mean?”

“You’re supposed to be fishing.”

His face scrunches at your words, but he doesn’t stop his careful assessment of your condition.

“I got a call.”

“Your phone was on do not disturb — you were unreachable.”

“To everyone other than you.”

Your breath catches in your chest at his words. He says it nonchalantly, but the significance of that statement lands harder than the elbow you took to the face. You’re the only person that Jack would let interrupt his day off. Hell, you’re the only reason he took a day off to begin with. 

“But how… Perlah.”

Jack’s head tilts as he watches you put the pieces together. Not too long after Langdon got you into the exam room, Perlah found the two of you. She helped Langdon with the exam for a few minutes before cursing that her phone had died before she made an important call. You had offered her your own, thinking nothing of the interaction. But now you understand exactly what transpired when Perlah left with your cell. 

“Yeah, scared me half to death when it wasn’t your voice on the other end.”

Your frown deepens at that. You can only imagine the fear that clawed its way back into Jack’s chest — can only imagine the unwanted memories it brought up. Your eyes glance down at his left hand, where a silver wedding band permanently resides. You remember the morning on the roof when Jack finally told you about his late wife after a particularly difficult shift. The two of you had lost a young woman whose vehicle had been struck by a drunk driver. You watched Jack go above and beyond for the woman in a way you’d never seen before. And you noticed the way his entire demeanor shifted once he had to call it after an hour of compressions. Jack slipped out of the ED the moment that the day shift showed up and you followed after once you completed handoff. You found Jack on the edge of the roof — not surprising on any other day, but a concerning visual after what you just witnessed that night. He knew you’d find him — you always do. And as you took your usual place, leaning your elbows against the railing right behind him, he finally opened up about the worst day he’s ever experienced. You listened as he told you about how his wife was in an accident. How she was dead on impact and EMS found her phone on the scene. How Jack was her only emergency contact. How he despises that the last time his wife called him he never even got to hear her voice. How he knows he’s your emergency contact. How his heart can’t go through that again. 

“I’m sorry, Jack. The last thing I wanted was for you to worry about me on your day off.”

Jack’s brow furrows at your words.

“Sweetheart, all I do when I’m not with you is worry.”

You both let that sentence linger in the room for a few moments. Jack continues to trace shapes into your shrubs as you attempt to calm your nerves as you realize how intimate this conversation feels. Finally, Jack breaks the silence.

“Can you just come back to the night shift so I can stop freaking out every time my phone rings throughout the day?”

You almost smile at that.

“Donnie comes back in two weeks.”

You mean for that to be comforting; however, this only makes Jack’s body stiffen in response. His head drops as he lets out a long sigh.

“Two weeks is too long.”

“You’re not my boss, Jack.”

Jack pulls his hands away and you watch as he runs them through his short, grey curls. He looks exhausted — and you suddenly feel guilty that his relaxing day off has turned into this. 

“You’re right, but sweetheart, I can’t do this without you anymore.”

A part of you wants to throttle him because of that nickname and how easily it falls off his lips — how it’ll only feel right when it’s his voice saying it to you. 

“Do what?”

Jack looks at you and his face twists into confusion as he realizes your question is genuine.

“Get through the fucking night.”

A beat passes. You desperately want to just say yes. It’s what you want isn’t it? Returning to the night shift — returning to him. But that’s also the problem. What is this? You thought your switch to day shift would give you some sort of explanation, but your time away has only made you more confused. Would it actually just be easier if the two of you only saw each other during handoff? No domestic moments between cups of coffee, no more mornings spent side-by-side on the rooftop, no more stolen, fleeting touches as he passes you on your way to the hub. You know what you are to Robby — to everyone on day shift. It’s simple. But with Jack — it’s never been simple and maybe that’s the problem.

“What if I want to stay on the day shift?”

Jack recoils like you just threw a punch at him. Guilt claws up your throat as you watch his face fall. It’s a lie — you know that it is. You love everything about the night shift, but you also don’t know how much longer you can keep playing this game with Jack before you simply fall apart. 

“Why would you want that?”

“Because at least I know where I stand with everyone here.”

Jack’s brow furrows — you hate that it’s cute. That everything about him draws you in.

“You don’t know where you stand with me?”

You shake your head and he scoffs — the sound is surprisingly cold. He looks at you, brow pinched into a scowl. And then he realizes that you’re serious. Your expression is nothing but unashamed honesty and his head cocks to the side at that. Do you really think he’s been stringing you along this entire time? That this has all been meaningless flirtation? That you mean nothing to him?

He takes a step forward, slotting himself between your knees. Your breath catches as he reaches up and gently cradles your face. His touch is different than before — all professionalism has been cast aside and is now replaced with his overwhelming adoration. Without thinking your fingers grab the hem of his black t-shirt. He smiles as he feels you nervously pick at a loose stitch before he ducks his head and his lips finally meet your own. Your grip on his t-shirt tightens as he moves his hands through your hair. Now this is a dream. The kiss is soft and restrained — you know he’s holding back due to your injuries. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you. Jack pulls away too soon for your liking, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he places his forehead against yours. 

“Sweetheart, I’ve been yours since the minute you walked through the fucking door.”

You bite your lip as you attempt to hold back the giddy grin that begs to spread itself across your face. 

“You never said anything.”

Jack pulls away at that, not far — just enough to get a good look at you. The look on his face is incredulous — like it’s absurd you don’t know that his entire life revolves around you at this point.

“I thought I made myself abundantly clear.”

You laugh at that and Jack steals a kiss from your lips just because he can.

“I take it Robby gave you the rest of the day off?”

You nod, smiling as you feel Jack thread his fingers through yours.

“He told me to go home after Langdon finished my exam — who you should apologize to.”

Jack’s jaw clenches slightly as his brow furrows. 

“Him being here was unnecessary.”

You watch him for a moment, trying to understand what happened between the two men that never seemed to have any sort of animosity prior to today. And then your hand tightens around Jack’s as you realize what happened.

“You were jealous.”

Jack rolls his eyes.

“I have no reason to be jealous.”

You raise a brow at his statement. He’s not wrong — he has no reason to be jealous of Frank Langdon, but you know the resident somehow got under his skin. He may be able to maintain his facade of nonchalance to the rest of his staff, but you see right through him.

“What makes you so confident?”

“Because Langdon isn’t the one taking you home right now, is he?”

[dovesrecs]

- jack abbot fic recs

[18+] This isn’t a complete archive of everything I’ve enjoyed! Any fics I’ve reblogged but haven’t added here can be found under #doves recs

SMUT

crybaby - @angelabbot

heat - @andrewmiinyard

sleepy girl - @carbonfiction

night off - @whitehorsesrun

golden girl - @bluetimeombre

no big deal baby - @mcybank

eyes on me - @fangirl-dot-com

coddled during sex - @mariasont

for what its worth - @spikedfearn

when did you get hot - @filmetcs

tender is the night - @lovebugism

snowed in - @oxalaia-quilombensis

you have no idea - @geminiwritten

the love drug - @starling-in-the-sky

sexy to someone - @keytomylockhart

i just really like you - @inkdippedquills

as long as you're with me - @barnesdreamcatcher

SFW

want ya - @ematin

taste back - @abbotly

see you clearly - @goldsainz

emergency contact - @kalila

Call me - @butyoudidthis4what

soft n sweet - @taknbythewind

higher standards - @mariposium

cologne and money - @relaxdiva

property of - @imaginesofwonder

take car of you - @bluetimeombre

bite the bullet - @lauraneedstochill

these walls have eyes - @asxgard

from doctor to patient - @of-apollo

I'm always on my own - @pencil-n-pen

do not disturb - @wannabespacesmuggler

seeing double - @imagines-all-day-everyday

take your kids to work day - @satellite-evans

[theadventuresoftheunknown]

Place your bets

Summary: Trinity Santos knows her cousin has a partner, but doesn’t know who it is. You have only told her they work in the same ED as she does. To Ahmed’s delight, a new bet has started.

Pairing: Jack Abbot x reader

Words: 3.2k

Notes/content: Santos POV, PTMC ER Betting Pool, slight age-gap, secret relationship, no use of Y/N, Santos being confused, Santos being competitive, reader being a bad liar, a bit of foul language, hospital setting, very little medical talk because I am not a doctor.

A/N: Sometimes you need something adjacent to a crackfic to distract you from the serious 100K angst you’re writing. Especially after you’ve binged The Pitt and had surgery. Hope you enjoy!

Link to AO3

Trinity’s older cousin has a partner. She’s sure of it. The only thing is… she doesn’t know who it is.

She had always looked up to you. A good few years older than her, you felt like the big sister she had never had. You played with her when her other cousins did not want to play with the baby of the family, sent her care packages throughout med school, and now went on holidays together. You were her best friend and were there for Trinity when she needed it. You had always been there. 

It had been a week since Trinity saw your phone light up, revealing an unfamiliar nickname followed by a heart, and she felt doubt creep in.

She told you everything. Why had you not told her about this mystery partner?

***

It was Tuesday night, which meant movie-and-pasta night. You were in your kitchen, sauce simmering on the stove. It was your turn to pick the pasta and Trinity’s to pick the movie. It always took you both too long to pick out a movie if you had to do it together so, efficient as you both were, you divided the tasks.

Trinity held up her nose a bit when she saw the ravioli on the counter, waiting to be cooked. If it were up to her, it would have been mac and cheese.

“So…” Trinity leaned against the counter with her elbows, watching you stir in some basil into the sauce.

“So?”

“Can you tell me about your partner?”

“What partner?” You answered nonchalantly. Of course you would answer like you knew nothing and try to deflect the question.

“The one you’ve constantly been daydreaming about? I saw the nickname and heart on your phone. Must be serious if they have a nickname.”

Trinity knew you only gave nicknames to people you were very close to and serious about. It was as serious as a love declaration to you. You had given her her nickname ‘light bug’ after a lightning bug landed on her nose during a camping trip when she was five. She was still saved as light bug on your phone.

“Ah, that partner.” You kept your eyes on the pot and gave her a small, apologetic smile. “I would love to tell you more about them, but it’s a bit early to introduce them to family.”

“Can you at least tell me their name?” Trinity leaned closer, trying to get you to stop avoiding her eyes. She didn’t like it when you kept secrets from her and you were a horrible secret keeper.

You stopped stirring the sauce and looked at her.

“Why do you want to know?”

Something clicked. Trinity smiled. “Is it someone I know?”

A line formed between your eyebrows. “What hospital are you working at again?”

“PTMC.”

“Okay, maybe you know them already.” You shrugged, clearly trying to not make a big deal out of it. That was not going to work. Trinity would pull it out of you if she had to.

“Really?” She drawled.

“Probably.”

“It’s a large hospital. I might not even know them if the department they work in is different from mine.”

“What department are you working in?”

“The ED.” Your face slowly paled. Trinity could see she was winning.

“What shift?” She could hear the slight pleading in your voice to stop her questioning.

“Mostly day shifts, some nights. I basically know everyone.”

“Then you definitely know them.” Trinity let out a laugh and leaned forward.

“Tell me!”

“No, it’s still very new and I haven’t discussed this with them yet!” It was obvious you wanted to tell her, but didn’t want to cross a boundary with her partner. Unfortunately for you, her curiosity was winning.

“Tell me!” Trinity grabbed your arm.

“No!” You laughed.

“I’ll use my puppy eyes and I’ll do your dishes for a week.” 

“That’s unnecessary. I have a dishwasher.” You peeled her hand off your arm. She kept looking at you with big eyes. It was kind of frightening how well it still worked after all these years.

“I’ll ask them if I can, okay?”

“Yes!” She held her hands up in victory.

You sighed and gave her the wooden spoon. “Here, take over.”

A little while later, you stepped into the kitchen. “They said I can tell you.”

“Fuck yes! Okay, spill.” Her eyes were wide and if she was clutching the wooden spoon any harder, it could break in half. She could feel the victory already.

“They actually suggested something different.” A conniving smirk grew on your face and Trinity knew she had lost. 

“You know what would be more fun? You should start a betting board at work. Tell Ahmed. From what I’ve heard, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” 

Trinity groaned. “Fine.”

***

“Hey, Ahmed!” Trinity pushed open the doors, still wearing her coat. There was something she needed to do before the chaos of the day started.

“Santos! Need anything? He was standing in his usual spot near the ambulance entrance.

“Not really, but I think I have something you might be interested in.”

“Go on.” Ahmed raised a casual eyebrow.

“I have a bet.”

A big smile grew on his face. ”Tell. Me. More.”

***

“Okay. So, saying goes that Santos’ cousin is dating someone from this department. Bets are on who, how long they’ve been dating and how they met. Starting at five dollars.” Ahmed was telling the group of medical assistants.

“Why do we want to know who her cousin is dating if we don’t know her cousin?” Antoine asked.

“ Yeah, why would we want to know?” Larry added.

“Why would you not want to win an insane amount of money?” Ahmed countered. Antoine and Larry looked at each other.

“Good point. Put me in for ten on Mohan, one year and coffee shop.”

“Fifteen on Jesse, two months and friends-to-lovers since university.

***

“You’ve met her, right?” Javadi asked Whitaker.

“Yes, she’s been around for movie nights sometimes. Why?”

“Can you tell me more about her?”

“You’re thinking about joining in on the bet?”

“Maybe.”

“Alright” Whitaker moved a little closer, Javadi leaned in.

“She’s a few years older than us, I’d say around Garcia’s age. Works around the corner as a professor and has a lot of embarrassing stories about Santos.”

“Really?” Javadi’s eyes stared to shine, the bet completely forgotten.

***

“Santos!” Princess called.

“Yeah?” Trinity looked up from her charting. It was boring and taking too long. She was grateful for the distraction.

“Show me a picture of your cousin.”

“Why would I show you a picture of my cousin?” 

“For the bet! I need to know about her range.” Princess added with a few swaying shoulders.

“Her range?” Trinity lifted an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Like, would she be a person Dr King is dating or is she more like Dr Robby’s age?” Princess whispered behind her hand. Mel looked up, her mouth opening to protest, but quickly closing as she focused on her notes again.

“Good point.” Trinity pulled her phone out of her pocket and quickly looked up a recent photo of you. “There she is.”

“Oh, she’s cute! Way out of his range then. Got it!” Princess turned around, sprinted toward Ahmed and yelled a quick thank you over her shoulder. Trinity did not miss the look of offence on Dr Robby’s face. Princess slammed twenty dollars on the table.

“Put me up for Mateo, five months and elevator. That boy’s been too smiley lately.”

***

The bets were piling up and Trinity saw that the whiteboard was already filled with post-its. The night shift had not even come in yet.

She stood in front of the whiteboard.  

Garcia, 9 months, gift shop for twenty. Prescott, 2 months, sports bar for ten. King, 4 months, bookstore for thirty. The list went on and on.

Mel had protested at that last one, which earned a groan from Langdon. He had no more cash to double the bet and change it and Ahmed did not accept promises of money.

She herself had fifty bucks riding on Dr Shen, three months and the Dunkin’ Donuts around the corner. The place was on your way to work and Shen was always sipping that coffee during handovers. Taking your blushing from the last few months into account, it was the perfect place, match and time.

A complete foolproof plan.

She could use the money to buy that new phone she had wanted.

***

An hour before the night shift started, Trinity looked up from her charting and saw Dr Abbot walking into the ED.

“Slow day?” He said as he dropped his stethoscope on the counter near Dr Robby and glanced at the board. Trinity was glad she hadn’t complained about charting that moment. She knew her attendings did not like her perfectly concise reports, calling them too short and without detail to follow her diagnosis.

“Kind of, you could say that.” 

Abbot’s eyes squinted a little at Robby. “Something’s different. What happened?”

Robby nodded in the direction of the whiteboard. 

“Ahmed started another bet. Apparently, one of us is dating Santos’ cousin.”

“What are they betting on?”

“Who, how long they’ve been dating and how they met. Everyone’s pretty hyped to find out. Apparently her cousin works right around the corner at the university. Everyone’s been offending each other and singing her praises all day.”

“Really?” Abbot smiled, amused by the remark. “And why would this be so interesting to warrant a bet?” He moved a little closer and looked at the post its.

Robby put his hands up in defence. “I don’t know, man. Slow day.”

Ahmed took that moment to make an announcement.

“Place your bets before the night shift’s over. Santos is going to call her cousin tomorrow morning during handover for the reveal!”

Trinity heard Abbot sigh. “Let’s hope the gossip is not a distraction.”

“Oh, it definitely will be. Good luck tonight, brother.” Robby laughed.

***

That night, after her shift, Trinity told you about the bet over the phone.

“There are so many people who want to know who it is. You have officially started at least three conspiracy theories.”

“Have I now?” Your voice sounded amused over the speaker while Trinity laid on top of her bed. Trinity could hear Huckleberry walking by and lowered the volume of her phone. There was still time for him to change his bet and with his new doctor’s salary he actually had the money to back it up.

“You have. Perlah believes you’re dating someone from the night shift, and Mel believes you’re dating someone who used to work at the ED.”

“Oh, he definitely still works there.”

“He! You said he! It’s a man!” She whisper-shouted, hoping Whitaker would not hear.

Trinity groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re fucking Huckleberry.”

“Who?”

“Whitaker.”

“What? No!” Her shoulders sagged with relief at your reaction. Whitaker and you knew each other from movie nights at their place, but you dating him would only make things awkward in the house. Besides, while she knew you deserved an actual nice guy like him, the match did not make sense at all. And you always seemed to attract handsome men.

Trinity blanched.

“Don’t tell me it’s Langdon.”

“Isn’t he married?” She could hear the slight laughter in your tone.

“True. Total wife and kids guy.” She let out a sigh. You dodged a bullet there.

“Is he a nurse?” She tried.

“Nope.”

“Guard?”

“Nope.”

“Medical assistant?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s either that or you’re fucking an attending.”

You stayed silent.

“Oh my god, you’re fucking an attending?!”

Your laughter rang through the room. 

“Please tell me it’s Shen! I bet fifty on Shen.”

Trinity shivered. “Don’t say it’s Robby. That would be - No. Just no.” She could not sit through a Christmas dinner with that smug smile across her. She liked him as her boss. He was a good doctor and always in for a joke or a story. But it was a different thing to have him sit with them on movie nights.

You laughed even harder. 

“Don’t worry, Trinity. You’ll find out tomorrow.” You managed between laughs. 

“Fine.” She resigned, no closer to her goal, but still feeling confident about her bet. It was Shen, she knew it for sure.

“I should go. You’ll call me tomorrow morning?”

“I will, for the big reveal.”

“For the big reveal. ‘Night, light bug.” You drawled out the last syllables like you did when you tucked little Trinity into bed.

“‘Night, sunshine.” Trinity pressed the red button on her phone. 

Her cousin was dating an attending in the ED.

There were only four options then.

Dr Robby, Al-Hashimi, Abbot or Shen. 

It had to be Shen. She had bet fifty dollars on it.

Dr Robby was not your type. While you had a tendency to fall for noble people, you hated motorcycles. Lucky for her, he had become nearly insufferable about his after he came back from his sabbatical.

Al-Hashimi was too stubborn for you. While she thought it was a good quality to have in the ED, you deserved a bit of freedom in doing things your way. 

Abbot - well, he was not it. Trinity had no particular reason, but she knew that with his crazy schedule between being a full time senior attending in the ED and volunteering as a doctor for a fucking SWAT team, he had no time left to meet people. Let alone date them. You would like his looks and the quiet but commanding presence, but you also liked to have a life outside of work that did not include scalpels and suture kits.

So it had to be Shen.

It just had to be.

***

The next morning everyone was gathered around the whiteboard. Ahmed had gotten it out of the dispatch room and put it in front of the hub. 

“Alright, alright, everyone. We all know why we’re here.”

Trinity scoffed a little. Ahmed really was trying to make a show out of it. 

In the corner of her eye, she saw Abbot looking at the whiteboard with a slight smile. Why was he standing so close to the front of the group? Yesterday, he wasn’t interested in the bet, calling it a distraction. 

Shen was also near the whiteboard, coffee in hand. It would only make sense for her cousin’s partner to stand so close to the whiteboard. Trinity was already counting the bills in her head.

“We all want to know who of us here is dating Santos’ cousin.” Ahmed held out his hand to her in a dramatic gesture. “Santos, if you please.” 

Trinity pressed the call button on her phone. 

“Hello?” You answered.

“Hi there, it’s Trinity. Calling for the reveal. You’re on speaker by the way.” 

“Indeed you are, no chance at foul play!” She heard Donnie yell from behind her.

You giggled a little. “Good to know. I’m just walking to work now.”

The other end of the line stayed silent for a while.

“Well? Tell us.” Trinity spoke into the mic of her phone. The suspense was killing her. She had been waiting more than a whole day just to hear a single name.

“Actually, I thought it might be fun to reveal it in reverse order.” 

Abbot snorted lightly next to her, shaking his head. 

“Okay, so first is the place we met. We met on the corner of the street near the hospital, in front of Dunkin’ Donuts. I ran into him and spilled coffee all over his scrubs.”

The answer was met with a lot of groans, but Trinity felt pride glowing in her chest. One step closer to victory.

Ahmed removed all answers that had nothing to do with street and coffee shop from the whiteboard.

“Second, we have been seeing each other for three months now. After I spilled coffee all over him, I tried to clean it up. He made a joke about wanting to take me out on a date first, and that was that.”

Ahmed removed the post its.

Trinity’s pride glowed brighter. Only one answer and she would have her new phone.

“And now that we’ve come to the final answer, I believe the person themselves could reveal it best.” Trinity locked eyes on Shen to her left. This was it, she could taste victory. 

There was a shuffle on her right. 

It couldn’t be.

Shit.

Abbot had stepped forward and held his hand up.

Trinity nearly dropped her phone. 

“Hi love, did you have fun with the dramatics?” He had the audacity to sound amused.

“Oh, I sure did!” You replied. “My dearest gamblers, I am dating Dr. Jack Abbot.”

All around, Trinity heard applause.

She had lost. She was so sure of her answer, but she lost because of the last part of the question.

“Alright, thanks everyone. Back to your stations and handovers.” Dr. Abbot waved them off while receiving pats on his shoulders.

“Trinity? Could you give me Jack, please?” Your voice pulled her out of her daze.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” She turned the speaker off and handed her phone to Abbot.

“She wants to talk to you.” She said with her lips pressed together in a small awkward smile. 

“Thanks.” Abbot took the phone with a small but bright smile and walked into one of the rooms. 

Ahmed removed the last post its off the whiteboard. 

“All this work,” he grumbled, “and no one even took the whole prize. Have to divide it like losers.”

Trinity turned toward the hub, starting her day with going through charts before discussing them with a second year resident from the night shift. From her stool, she could see Dr Abbot smiling and laughing.

He would make you happy. She knew that, just as she knew you were laughing and smiling just as much as the attending.

The more she thought about it, the more she could see it. 

You had a tendency to get carried away in stressful moments and there was no one more steady in those moments than Abbot. She had seen him during the Pitt Fest chaos. It was impressive.

She also knew he was a very busy person due to his past and there was no one more understanding and warm than you. Trinity knew that firsthand. You might give him a chance to stop running and enjoy the world around him more.

Abbot hung up, walked to the hub and handed Trinity her phone. 

“Thank you for letting me borrow it.”

“No problem, Dr Abbot. I can see she makes you happy.” 

“That she does. I hope I do the same for her every day.” It sounded like he was making a promise. Abbot nodded at her and left in the direction of dr. Robby. 

Trinity shot you a quick text. 

Soooo… You into older veterans now? 😉

Shut up, light bug. 

Not soon after, three dots appeared.

I’ll tell you the details of the meet cute tonight. 

Trinity smiled at the text and put her phone in her pocket. It was time to see today’s first patient. 

[amandamariee]

jack abbot fic recs (my military doctor husband)

scar tissue by @inlovewithquestionablecharacters

rumors by @yawnlovescookies

lost and found by @zivistardust

↳ i gave it to her by @/zivistardust

in the way by @mehchuis

a little old for you by @thesewordsareallihavetogive

emergency contact by @imaginesofwonder

plenty of fish by @katchamb3rs

place your bets by @theadventuresoftheunknown

doc, i think she's crashing out by @softundermoonlight

after hours by @abbotafterhours

night shift by @lilyswritings

coming around again by @lovebugism

nanny by @bitters-n-sweets

honesty is the best policy by @moondustfairies

prove you wrong by @cryonme

is this it by @lovableapocalypse

cologne and money by @relaxdiva

don''t worry by @abbots-go-bag

she's my wife by @petalsforjoy

call me by @butyoudidthis4what

these walls have eyes by @asxgard

the night shift by @betonlosingdogs

this fic by @belleeebelleee

let me take care of you by @voidsagent

↳ 10 things i hate about you by @/voidsagent

↳ tiny hands by @/voidsagent

a side of sweetness by @i-love-hozier

tuesday by @notyourlovemonkey

emergency contact by @kalila

busy bee by @mercvry-glow

cry into him by @richeeduvie

too sweet by @pencil-n-pen

↳ you've ruined my life by@/pencil-n-pen

distance by @s-writing-s

where the hell is my husband by @imaginesofwonder

↳ happily married by @/imaginesofwonder

married? by @yawnlovescookies

on me by @snoopysupe

kisses and made up by @targaryenluvs

[imagines-all-day-everyday]

seeing double

summary: when your ex-boyfriend makes a surprise visit to ptmc, your boyfriend and the rest of your co-workers realise you might have a type…

pairing: jack abbot x fem!reader & ex bf!mark sloan x fem!reader

warnings/tags: established relationship, implied age gap between abbot & reader and mark & reader, flirting, fluff, swearing, mark don’t give a fuck that the reader is in a relationship, but reader is respectful of boundaries, defs a bit of jealous and insecure Jack if you squint

notes: hot hot hot hot hot give them both to me now thanks!! also massive shoutout to the anon that requested this 🙂‍↕️

likes, reblogs, comments are very much appreciated!

Enjoy my work? Tip me! 🤍

masterlist

“Ew.”

The word left you before you could stop it as you sunk your teeth into a granola bar.

You grimaced as you turned over the wrapper, examining it like it might explain why you felt like you were currently eating a stick of glue.

“Are these expired?” You asked through the mouthful.

McKay barely glanced up from where she had half her body buried in the fridge, rummaging past several abandoned containers and a suspiciously wet paper bag.

“Nope, they’re just a by product of the drywall factory down the road.” She answered.

You stared at the bar for another second, trying to muster up enough willpower to finish it given you hadn’t eaten lunch.

After abandoning that mission in under 10 seconds, you leant over the bin and spat out the mouthful with as much decorum as you could before unceremoniously dumping the rest of the bar after it.

“Those things aren’t that bad.” Whitaker mused as he wandered into the breakroom with Santos hot on his heels.

“That’s because you were raised on hay.” Santos remarked dryly.

“They’re raspberry flavoured.”

“That’s not helping you Huckleberry.”

You huffed a laugh as the two of them started bickering just as your phone buzzed in your pocket. You leant against the wall, only half listening as you pulled it out of your scrubs and saw a notification from Jack.

He must have just woken up from his pre-shift nap. The corner of your mouth lifted as you read his reply.

You: Are you coming in early today?

JA ❤️: Always.

You quickly typed out another message.

You: any chance u could bring in a protein bar for me? the ones at work are inedible

The reply came almost instantly.

JA ❤️: I know. I’ve told Robby they are a serious health hazard.

You smiled at that as you watched the three dots blink back at you.

JA ❤️: I’ll be in soon. I already have some in my bag for you.

You: are you psychic?

JA ❤️: Just good at pattern recognition.

Your smile widened as his reply came through.

You: thank u 🩷

JA ❤️: 👍

“What are you smiling at?”

You looked up to find McKay watching you over the fridge door.

“What?”

“That.” She pointed vaguely at your face. “Whatever that was.”

“Nothing.”

Santos and Whitaker paused their arguing to focus on you.

Santos studied you, her face contorting into a grimace. “Gross.”

“What?”

“I just can’t get over the fact that Abott reduces you to…” She trailed off, waving vaguely at you.

“That?” Whitaker supplied.

“Yeah.” Santos nodded gravely. “That.”

You rolled your eyes, sliding your phone back into your scrub pocket.

“I think the two of you are starting to fuse into one brain cell.”

Santos’ expression went still. “….that was genuinely hurtful.”

You turned to Whitaker. “There’s your new button to press.”

Whitaker’s grin widened as he crossed his arms over his chest and turned to Santos. “Oh I cannot wait to bring this up multiple times a day.”

Santos glared at you. "You're a traitor."

You pushed off the wall, shaking your head as you made your way towards the door.

“Never give your triggers away Santos.”

“You’re still a traitor!” She called out.

You waved her off without looking back, escaping before she could start another argument.

You barely made it two steps before nearly colliding with Samira.

“Oh sorry.” She came to an abrupt halt, the usual frazzled expression etched onto her features as she looked up at you.

“You all good?”

“Yeah um- have you seen Joy?”

“Not for a little while.”

“No worries, if you see her can you tell her I need her in Room 3?”

“Sure.” You nodded, tilting your head slightly as you studied her. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah fine.” She brushed you off as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Haven’t had lunch so I’m a bit cranky.”

You nodded in understanding. “Word of warning, don’t eat the protein bars.”

Samira’s nose wrinkled as she stepped around you. “Why on earth would I do that?”

You threw your arms up dramatically. “Am I the only one who didn’t know they were inedible?”

“Apparently so.”

You huffed, pulling your hair out from under your collar as you made your way over to the status board which was currently glowing above the chaos that was the ED like a cruel little scoreboard.

Your hands settled on your stethoscope as you scanned the board. Less than an hour till your shift was over, at least officially. Which given your track record of overtime, meant close to nothing.

“Hey.”

You glanced over to see Perlah leaning against one of the desks.

“What?” You asked warily.

Her smirk widened. “Have you seen the hot visitor?”

“The what?”

Princess appeared beside her, equally delighted.

“Absolute smoke show.”

Princess nodded towards the far end of the station. “Follow the sounds of Joy giggling.”

Your brows knitted together.

“Joy? As in our intern, Joy? As in the complete antithesis of her name, Joy?” You queried.

“See for yourself.” Perlah grinned.

You followed their line of sight to the other end of the nurses station where a tall figure stood, leaning an arm on one of the benches.

At first, all you saw was the back of a leather jacket, familiar in a way that made your stomach drop before your brain had fully caught up. The man shifted slightly, turning just enough for a familiar profile to come into view. The same hair coifed to perfection, the same self-satisfied slant of his mouth.

And sure enough standing beside him, blushing furiously as she giggled, actually giggled, at whatever he had just said, was Joy.

“I didn’t even know she was capable of laughter.” Princess remarked.

You closed your eyes for one brief, pained second. “You have got to be kidding me.” You grumbled.

Before either Princess or Perlah could ask what was wrong, you were already moving, making a beeline towards them.

Princess and Perlah exchanged a look behind your back. “What just happened?” Princess asked in Tagalog.

“I don’t know." Perlah muttered. "But I think it’s going to be good.”

By the time you were close enough to hear the familiar deep drawl of his voice, Mark Sloan had inched in just enough to make Joy look like she might pass out.

“So, is that the only piercing you have or...?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Still shamelessly hitting on interns I see.”

Mark turned at the sound of your voice. For half a second, there was nothing but surprise. And then his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Well I’ll be.”

That familiar grin spread slowly across his face as his eyes travelled down your body with the same shameless appreciation he’d had years ago, like he was undressing you from memory.

“Cupid.” He said the nickname lowly, like he’d never stopped saying it. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

You shot him a fake smile. “Wish I could say the same.”

Joy looked between the two of you, blinking rapidly, as if she was trying to decipher a complex math problem. You turned your attention to her, offering her a polite smile.

“Dr Mohan's looking for you, something to do with your patient in room 3.”

“Oh right.” Joy nodded, adjusting her glasses as she glanced at Mark. “On it.”

“Bye Joy.” Mark called out lazily, watching her blush as she scurried away, nearly walking into a wall in the process.

He turned to you, looking pleased with himself as he leant forward. “Why do you always have to ruin my fun?” He pouted once she was out of earshot.

"Someone has to."

Meanwhile, McKay, Whitaker and Santos had exited the breakroom, not even bothering to conceal their ogling as they clustered around a monitor.

“Ok who on earth is that?” Santos queried.

"And why does he look like he just walked off a photoshoot?" McKay muttered.

“And how do they know eachother?” Whitaker added.

“He called her Cupid.” Joy casually commented as she walked past them.

Whitaker’s brow furrowed. "....Cupid?"

Santos froze. The faint amusement dropped away, replaced by the sharp, dawning horror of someone remembering a detail they were never supposed to need.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” McKay and Whitaker asked simultaneously.

"Do you guys remember that time at karaoke?"

"....the one where she sang No Scrubs at Abbot?"

"No. The one when she accidentally admitted she had an ex at Seattle Grace that used to call her Cupid."

McKay and Whitaker both slowly turned to stare at Mark, then at you, then back at Mark.

"No." McKay shook her head.

"Yes."

“You don’t seriously think….” Whitaker trailed off.

“Oh I do” Santos nodded. “I really do.”

Back at the nurses’ station, you folded your arms, ignoring Mark's attempts at getting under your skin.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh some conference.” He waived his hand dismissively. “Thought I’d take the opportunity to come see Robinavitch.”

You blinked. “You know Dr Robby.” You said slowly.

“Since med school.” He answered smoothly. “Why? Hoping I was here to see you?”

You snorted. “Please.”

“Oh c’mon Cupid don’t act like you don’t miss me.” He smirked as he stepped closer. “You wouldn’t have moved across the other side of the country to forget about me if you didn’t.”

You leant in slightly, shooting him a dry smile. “I wouldn’t touch you again even if my life depended on it Sloan.”

He let out a genuine chuckle. “I’ve missed this.” He gestured between the two of you. “Us."

He placed his chin in the palm of his hand, leaning even closer. "Why did it ever end?”

You pretended to think for a moment. "Maybe because you’re physiologically incapable of staying monogamous?”

“Oh yeah right that.” He nodded. “Speaking of monogamous..."

"No."

"... I’ve heard you’ve got a new boy toy right here at PTMC.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Jesus Christ Meredith needs to learn to keep her mouth shut.”

“Well in her defence she told Derek who then told me so….” Mark trailed off, turning his body around to survey the room. “Which one is he?”

"I'm not playing this game." You answered, folding your arms over your chest.

“Wait let me guess.”

Before you could stop him, Mark placed both hands on your shoulders and gently turned you so you were both facing the floor of the pitt.

His eyes landed on Frank first. “Too pretty boy.”

He guided your shoulders slightly towards Whitaker. “Too scrawny.”

From across the room, Whitaker stiffened. “…Why is he looking at me?”

Santos didn’t look away. “Don’t wave.” She murmured.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were thinking about it.”

Then the ambulance bay doors opened. Jack walked in with a thermos in one hand, his bicep bulging as he shifted the backpack slung over his other shoulder on full display under his dark fitted shirt.

Your stomach dropped as his eyes scanned the room, no doubt looking for you. It didn't take long for his eyes to find yours. You watched as they shifted to Mark, then dropped to Mark's hands resting on your shoulders.

For a moment, his expression barely changed, only the faintest tightening around his jaw gave him away. Then he kept walking.

Mark smiled slowly. “….bingo.”

Your body stiffened as Mark glanced sideways at you.

“I’m right."

You didn't answer.

"I am."

“I’m not talking about my love life with you of all people.”

“Cupid, don’t be like that.” He nudged your shoulder. "Come on, what’s he like?”

“Well for starters, he volunteers as a medic for the SWAT team.” You said sweetly. “So he’s got at least one gun on him at all times.”

Mark nodded slowly, dropping his hands from your shoulders. "Noted."

"He also has excellent aim."

"Message received." Mark held his hands up. "I'll behave."

And then, for the first time since he had appeared, the teasing faded.

"But seriously..." His face softened slightly as his eyes settled on your face properly, no longer performing for the room.

“You’re happy?”

You exhaled slowly, your defences lowering slightly by the unexpected tone of his voice.

“I am.”

“He good to you?"

You smiled softly despite yourself. “He is.”

Something flickered across Mark’s face then, softening the usual sharp lines of his smirk, scarily close to being something sincere. “Good.”

For a moment, the years between you settled there. It didn’t feel painful or bitter or even sad. In fact, it seemed absurd to think that you'd cried over him once upon a time. Now he was just a story you told after one too many drinks, something you reflected on and shook your head, chalking it up to the foolishness of youth.

You cleared your throat, looking away first. “How’s work?”

“Busy, chaotic, dramatic.” Mark shrugged.

"So the usual then?"

“The usual.”

He glanced around the emergency department, frowing slightly as he took in the noise, the movement, the organised disaster of it all. “How’s the ED?”

“Busy, chaotic.” You echoed. “Somehow still much less dramatic than Seattle Grace."

Mark barked out a laugh. “Yeah that checks out.”

“Sloan.”

The two of you turned to see Robby making his way towards you, Jack beside him.

Mark's grin returned instantly.

“Robinavitch.” He broke away from you and pulled Robby into a hug with the force of someone who had never respected personal space in his life.

"A lot less hair since I last saw you."

Robby snorted, clapping him on the back. "The Pitt will do that to you.”

Jack caught your eye over Robby’s shoulder, his expression running a fine line between faint amusement and annoyance.

Robby stepped back, shaking his head before gesturing to Jack.

“This is Jack Abbot, night attending.”

“Nice to meet you. Mark Sloan.” Mark stuck his hand out. “Head of Plastic Surgery at Seattle Grace.”

“Plastic surgery?” Jack's brow lifted slightly as he shook Mark’s hand. “Explains the soft hands.”

Mark laughed loudly enough that several people looked over.

“Oh my god.” Whitaker mumbled as he watched Jack and Mark shake hands. “It’s like I’m seeing double.”

Santos shook her head. “She’s got some serious issues.”

McKay folded her arms over her chest as she studied the two men. “Or just good taste.”

“I second the good taste thing.” Princess murmured as she appeared beside McKay.

Perlah took a sip of her drink and nodded. “I third that.”

The handshake lasted just a fraction longer than necessary as Mark glanced over at you. “I get it."

Robby’s eyes narrowed as he gestured between you and Mark.

“You two know eachother?”

“I was an intern at Seattle Grace." You supplied quickly.

“Oh yes, Cupid and I go wayyy back.” Mark smirked.

Robby's confusion only deepened. “Cupid…?”

You shot Mark a warning glare, which he very intentionally ignored.

“Yeah Cupid.” He answered smoothly. “'cause you know she’s got these little angel wings tattooed right above her-“

“Okayyy you know what.” Robby clapped his hands letting out a bark of awkward laughter. “I think a hospital tour sounds like a great idea right about now."

Mark's eyes gleamed as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I was going to say shoulder blade."

“You are going to walk with me." Robby said, already steering him away, “And tell me absolutely none of the rest of that story.”

Mark let himself be guided down the hall, still grinning smugly as he glanced back over his shoulder at you and winked, making you roll your eyes once more.

You dragged your eyes away from him to look at Jack who was yet to move. He watched Mark disappear down the corridor, then looked back at you.

He slowly stepped forward, eyes scanning your figure as he placed his hands casually behind his back.

"Ex?"

You sighed. "...Ex."

Jack nodded curtly. “Got it.”

“Abbot.” You looked over to see Dana studying both of you. “Dr King needs an attending in Room 8.”

Jack's eyes never left you. You watched him intently, waiting to see if he would say anything further. Instead he simply reached into his pocket and produced a protein bar.

You swallowed as he slid it into the front pocket of your scrub top, his fingers lightly against your side subtly.

“Eat.” Was all he said, unable to hide the affection in his voice.

Your throat tightened around a smile as you nodded. He held your gaze for one more second, then turned and headed in the direction of Room 8.

You watched him go, your hand subconsciously brushing over the side that he’d just touched.

When you looked back, Dana was still standing there, one hand on her hip as she watched you over her glasses with an expression far too knowing for your liking.

“Don’t you dare say a word.”

She raised her hands up in mock surrender. “Wasn’t gonna.”

You huffed as you turned, suddenly desperate to busy yourself in order to keep your mind off the cluster fuck that was your two worlds colliding.

For the next twenty minutes, you threw yourself back into work. Every few minutes though, your gaze betrayed you, either drifting towards the corridor where Robby had taken Mark or towards Room 8, where Jack had disappeared. The protein bar sat heavily in your pocket, your appetite now completely non-existent.

By the time you ended up at a computer to finish off your charting, your shift was close enough to ending that you had started to believe you might actually survive it.

“Oh damn, the patient in room 7 died.”

You glanced up to see Whitaker staring at a chart from the workstation beside you.

“The old lady with the chest pain?”

“Yeah.” Whitaker sighed.

You frowned. "That sucks."

“She had a husband right?” Santos chimed in from across from you, not bothering to look up from her own computer.

“Yeah she did, married nearly fifty years."

Without missing a beat, Santos glanced up at you. “Abbot better watch out.”

Your eyes narrowed.

"Nice. Very respectful." Whitaker shook his head, although you could see he was trying not to laugh.

"What?" Santos shrugged. "Our girl clearly has a type."

"Silver foxes?" McKay suggested as she walked past grinning like a cheshire cat.

"I hate all of you."

Whitaker looked over at you like he was genuinely offended. "What did I do?!"

Across the hallway, Jack had just emerged from Room 8. Your eyes met his. He didn’t react beyond the faintest lift of one eyebrow, but you could tell he'd heard every word.

You tipped your head slightly towards the supply closet. Jack looked at you for half a beat, then gave the smallest nod.

You waited a couple minutes before moving.

The supply closet was narrow, overstocked, and smelled faintly of antiseptic and cardboard. You shut the door behind you and leaned against a shelf, exhaling slowly for what felt like the first time in an hour.

A few minutes later, the handle turned. Jack stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him. He leaned back against the opposite shelf, folding his arms loosely across his chest as the two of you studied eachother.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“So… that’s your ex.”

“That’s my ex.”

He nodded. "You left out a few details."

"Such as?"

His gaze dropped briefly, then returned to your face.

“Well first of all I wasn’t expecting Mark Sloan.”

Your brows lifted in surprise. “You know who he is?”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“Of course you have.” You paused for a moment before your voice dropped slightly, unable to hide the insecurity in your tone. "Do you think less of me because I dated someone like him?"

Jack's brows knitted together. "Absolutely not." He said immediately. "It's just that I wasn't expecting your ex to be..."

Your brow furrowed. “Be what?”

“…old.” Was what Jack settled on.

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “He’s not old, he’s like your age.”

“Exactly.” Jack nodded. “I'm practically from the stone age compared to you.”

“You’re not.” You insisted.

Jack’s mouth twitched, but the smile didn’t quite hold as he looked down at the floor.

You studied him for a moment, admiring the lines etched deep into his face that you’d had memorised for as long as you’d known him. “Does it bother you that he’s older?”

“No it doesn’t bother me it’s just...” He sighed. “I thought I was the exception.” He confessed.

Your face softened instantly as you pushed off the wall and took a step towards him.

"Jack."

"I know it’s irrational.” He said, giving a small, self-deprecating shrug. “I just thought I was the first older doctor you’d made questionable life choices over.”

You huffed a small laugh as you closed the gap between the two of you, reaching up to cradle his jaw.

“Hey.” You said gently, guiding his eyes up to meet yours.

“When I met Mark I was young and overwhelmed and had just moved to a new city and he was…” You trailed off, glancing at the door like Mark might somehow materialise on cue.

“…well you’ve seen what he’s like.”

You brushed a thumb over his stubble that lined his jaw. “It barely even qualified as a relationship. And then it ended and we worked together for months. And then I moved.”

Jack leant into your touch slightly, his eyes never leaving your face as you spoke, attentive in the way that always made your heart ache a little.

“And then on my first day here I met a grumpy doctor up on the roof while I was mid meltdown.”

His brows drew together in feigned disbelief. “I don’t think he was grumpy.”

“He told me if I was thinking of jumping I shouldn’t because it’d be a shame to ruin a face like mine.”

The frown that had a hold on his face loosened just a fraction. “Why on earth would he think that line would work.”

“In his defence, I think he was a little out of practice.”

His hands settled at your waist, warm and steady through the thin fabric of your scrubs. “Or his brain short circuited when he saw you.”

Your smile widened as you slid your arms around the back of his neck, entwining your fingers absentmindedly around the silver curls at the nape of his neck.

“Well, lucky for him it worked.”

The reluctant smile finally reached his eyes. “Very lucky.” He corrected.

He glanced down, playing with the tie of your scrub pants.

“I just can’t believe you dated a plastic surgeon.”

You snorted softly. “Is that seriously what’s bothering you the most?”

“Yes.” He answered plainly.

You shook your head, a wry smile on your lips. “Not the stupid nickname?”

Jack glanced down at you, his grip on your hips tightening ever so slightly.

“If he calls you that again I may have no choice but to punch him.” He conceded casually as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

His head tilted slightly as he studied you for a moment. “But at least he can fix his own nose up after.”

You let out a laugh, running a hand over his chest. “Don’t worry.” You soothed. “I already told him you volunteer with the SWAT team.”

Jack smirked down at you proudly. “Atta girl.”

Then he leant down and finally pressed his lips to yours in a slow, reverent kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes narrowed immediately.

“Did you eat?”

You winced slightly. “Not yet.” You patted the pocket that contained the protein bar. “I’ll eat this and then go.”

Jack frowned, clearly unsatisfied with your solution. “Go home and eat something more substantial.”

“I will.”

“There’s pasta in the fridge for you, all you have to do is chuck it in the microwave.”

Your interest piqued immediately. “The pesto one I love?”

“Of course.”

You grinned, pressing your forehead against his. “You’re very good to me Dr Abbot.”

His smile softened into something private, something reserved just for you. “Anything for my girl.”

You kissed him again, deeper this time, enjoying the feeling of his warmth seeping into you.

“Alright.” He muttered reluctantly against your lips as he pulled away. “Get going before I end up locking you in here.”

You smirked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He shot you a warning glare with absolutely no bite to it.

You huffed dramatically, “alright alright.”

You reached for the door, then paused, glancing back at him.

“And for the record, if you’re worried about feeling old…”

Jack raised a brow.

“You should meet my other ex, he checked into the nursing home down the road last week.”

“Very funny.” He muttered, trying but failing to look unamused.

“I know I am.”

“Go.” He urged as he tapped your backside affectionately.

You raised your hands in mock defeat, slipping back into the pitt without another word.

Jack shook his head as the door shut softly behind you, a lovesick smile spreading across his face.

As always always always, feedback is always appreciated because I thrive off praise. Please give it back here and consider tipping me! 🤍

[joelmillersbitch]

Jack Abbot Fic Recs

the great war (1) morning glory (2) - @dearwalker

dancing in the dark - @inknopewetrust

the jack abbot fan club - @inknopewetrust

unleashed - @lauraneedstochill

Casual - @wordssforworldss

like real people do (1) like or like like (2) more than words (3) kiss it better (4) - @thatcorporategirlie

old bets - @bitters-n-sweets

fall in love (again and again) - @cryonme

you should've asked - @deliciousangelfestival

i got a bad desire - @inknopewetrust

gorgeous - @dearwalker

eight years, apparently - @solaceinruin

hoarding you - @inkdippedquills

jack coming home - @fluffy-duck0

on me - @snoopysupe

honestly is the best policy - @moondustfairies

soft dom jack - @santosprincess

this adorable blurb - @secretlovezz

the space between - @wonderlalicend

night shift - @lilyswritings

spare keys - @bitters-n-sweets

loose cannon and gunpowder - @inkdippedquills

It is what it could be (2) (3) (4) - @inkdippedquills

stained with you - @lauraneedstochill

this - @glamorizethechaos

steady love - @pope-codys

yours - @midnghtprentiss

weather the storm - @lovableapocalypse

french toast and nutella - @thatcorporategirlie

only yours - @witchbitchlovesdilfs

part two

[s-writing-s]

𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝? ⚕ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: One glitchy tablet, one HR email, and suddenly you’re married to your attending, Jack Abbot. HR thinks it was intentional and has already started merging your records. Claim it was a mistake, and your residency could be delayed. With only three months left until you’re an attending, Jack agrees to play along. Pretending to be married might save your career—but can your heart survive the side effects?

⊹ ࣪ ˖ word count: 147k┊complete┊(blurbs will be written sporadically)

⤷ CHAPTER INDEX:

⚕one.┊two.┊three.┊four.┊five.┊six.┊seven.┊eight.┊nine.┊ten.┊eleven. ┊twelve.┊thirteen.┊fourteen.┊ fifteen. ┊ sixteen.┊seventeen.┊eighteen┊ nineteen ┊twenty ┊twenty one ┊twenty two ┊twenty three

⤷ BLURBS INDEX:

⚕ long shift ⚕ halloween ⚕ the q-word

i'm not keeping a tag list for this series anymore. follow @s-writing-s-fics to get notified when i post a new blurb <33

[zendeyas]

Zendaya wearing MATIERES – New York premiere of The Odyssey

[imagines-all-day-everyday]

seeing double

summary: when your ex-boyfriend makes a surprise visit to ptmc, your boyfriend and the rest of your co-workers realise you might have a type…

pairing: jack abbot x fem!reader & ex bf!mark sloan x fem!reader

warnings/tags: established relationship, implied age gap between abbot & reader and mark & reader, flirting, fluff, swearing, mark don’t give a fuck that the reader is in a relationship, but reader is respectful of boundaries, defs a bit of jealous and insecure Jack if you squint

notes: hot hot hot hot hot give them both to me now thanks!! also massive shoutout to the anon that requested this 🙂‍↕️

likes, reblogs, comments are very much appreciated!

Enjoy my work? Tip me! 🤍

masterlist

“Ew.”

The word left you before you could stop it as you sunk your teeth into a granola bar.

You grimaced as you turned over the wrapper, examining it like it might explain why you felt like you were currently eating a stick of glue.

“Are these expired?” You asked through the mouthful.

McKay barely glanced up from where she had half her body buried in the fridge, rummaging past several abandoned containers and a suspiciously wet paper bag.

“Nope, they’re just a by product of the drywall factory down the road.” She answered.

You stared at the bar for another second, trying to muster up enough willpower to finish it given you hadn’t eaten lunch.

After abandoning that mission in under 10 seconds, you leant over the bin and spat out the mouthful with as much decorum as you could before unceremoniously dumping the rest of the bar after it.

“Those things aren’t that bad.” Whitaker mused as he wandered into the breakroom with Santos hot on his heels.

“That’s because you were raised on hay.” Santos remarked dryly.

“They’re raspberry flavoured.”

“That’s not helping you Huckleberry.”

You huffed a laugh as the two of them started bickering just as your phone buzzed in your pocket. You leant against the wall, only half listening as you pulled it out of your scrubs and saw a notification from Jack.

He must have just woken up from his pre-shift nap. The corner of your mouth lifted as you read his reply.

You: Are you coming in early today?

JA ❤️: Always.

You quickly typed out another message.

You: any chance u could bring in a protein bar for me? the ones at work are inedible

The reply came almost instantly.

JA ❤️: I know. I’ve told Robby they are a serious health hazard.

You smiled at that as you watched the three dots blink back at you.

JA ❤️: I’ll be in soon. I already have some in my bag for you.

You: are you psychic?

JA ❤️: Just good at pattern recognition.

Your smile widened as his reply came through.

You: thank u 🩷

JA ❤️: 👍

“What are you smiling at?”

You looked up to find McKay watching you over the fridge door.

“What?”

“That.” She pointed vaguely at your face. “Whatever that was.”

“Nothing.”

Santos and Whitaker paused their arguing to focus on you.

Santos studied you, her face contorting into a grimace. “Gross.”

“What?”

“I just can’t get over the fact that Abott reduces you to…” She trailed off, waving vaguely at you.

“That?” Whitaker supplied.

“Yeah.” Santos nodded gravely. “That.”

You rolled your eyes, sliding your phone back into your scrub pocket.

“I think the two of you are starting to fuse into one brain cell.”

Santos’ expression went still. “….that was genuinely hurtful.”

You turned to Whitaker. “There’s your new button to press.”

Whitaker’s grin widened as he crossed his arms over his chest and turned to Santos. “Oh I cannot wait to bring this up multiple times a day.”

Santos glared at you. "You're a traitor."

You pushed off the wall, shaking your head as you made your way towards the door.

“Never give your triggers away Santos.”

“You’re still a traitor!” She called out.

You waved her off without looking back, escaping before she could start another argument.

You barely made it two steps before nearly colliding with Samira.

“Oh sorry.” She came to an abrupt halt, the usual frazzled expression etched onto her features as she looked up at you.

“You all good?”

“Yeah um- have you seen Joy?”

“Not for a little while.”

“No worries, if you see her can you tell her I need her in Room 3?”

“Sure.” You nodded, tilting your head slightly as you studied her. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah fine.” She brushed you off as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Haven’t had lunch so I’m a bit cranky.”

You nodded in understanding. “Word of warning, don’t eat the protein bars.”

Samira’s nose wrinkled as she stepped around you. “Why on earth would I do that?”

You threw your arms up dramatically. “Am I the only one who didn’t know they were inedible?”

“Apparently so.”

You huffed, pulling your hair out from under your collar as you made your way over to the status board which was currently glowing above the chaos that was the ED like a cruel little scoreboard.

Your hands settled on your stethoscope as you scanned the board. Less than an hour till your shift was over, at least officially. Which given your track record of overtime, meant close to nothing.

“Hey.”

You glanced over to see Perlah leaning against one of the desks.

“What?” You asked warily.

Her smirk widened. “Have you seen the hot visitor?”

“The what?”

Princess appeared beside her, equally delighted.

“Absolute smoke show.”

Princess nodded towards the far end of the station. “Follow the sounds of Joy giggling.”

Your brows knitted together.

“Joy? As in our intern, Joy? As in the complete antithesis of her name, Joy?” You queried.

“See for yourself.” Perlah grinned.

You followed their line of sight to the other end of the nurses station where a tall figure stood, leaning an arm on one of the benches.

At first, all you saw was the back of a leather jacket, familiar in a way that made your stomach drop before your brain had fully caught up. The man shifted slightly, turning just enough for a familiar profile to come into view. The same hair coifed to perfection, the same self-satisfied slant of his mouth.

And sure enough standing beside him, blushing furiously as she giggled, actually giggled, at whatever he had just said, was Joy.

“I didn’t even know she was capable of laughter.” Princess remarked.

You closed your eyes for one brief, pained second. “You have got to be kidding me.” You grumbled.

Before either Princess or Perlah could ask what was wrong, you were already moving, making a beeline towards them.

Princess and Perlah exchanged a look behind your back. “What just happened?” Princess asked in Tagalog.

“I don’t know." Perlah muttered. "But I think it’s going to be good.”

By the time you were close enough to hear the familiar deep drawl of his voice, Mark Sloan had inched in just enough to make Joy look like she might pass out.

“So, is that the only piercing you have or...?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Still shamelessly hitting on interns I see.”

Mark turned at the sound of your voice. For half a second, there was nothing but surprise. And then his eyes lit up in recognition.

“Well I’ll be.”

That familiar grin spread slowly across his face as his eyes travelled down your body with the same shameless appreciation he’d had years ago, like he was undressing you from memory.

“Cupid.” He said the nickname lowly, like he’d never stopped saying it. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

You shot him a fake smile. “Wish I could say the same.”

Joy looked between the two of you, blinking rapidly, as if she was trying to decipher a complex math problem. You turned your attention to her, offering her a polite smile.

“Dr Mohan's looking for you, something to do with your patient in room 3.”

“Oh right.” Joy nodded, adjusting her glasses as she glanced at Mark. “On it.”

“Bye Joy.” Mark called out lazily, watching her blush as she scurried away, nearly walking into a wall in the process.

He turned to you, looking pleased with himself as he leant forward. “Why do you always have to ruin my fun?” He pouted once she was out of earshot.

"Someone has to."

Meanwhile, McKay, Whitaker and Santos had exited the breakroom, not even bothering to conceal their ogling as they clustered around a monitor.

“Ok who on earth is that?” Santos queried.

"And why does he look like he just walked off a photoshoot?" McKay muttered.

“And how do they know eachother?” Whitaker added.

“He called her Cupid.” Joy casually commented as she walked past them.

Whitaker’s brow furrowed. "....Cupid?"

Santos froze. The faint amusement dropped away, replaced by the sharp, dawning horror of someone remembering a detail they were never supposed to need.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” McKay and Whitaker asked simultaneously.

"Do you guys remember that time at karaoke?"

"....the one where she sang No Scrubs at Abbot?"

"No. The one when she accidentally admitted she had an ex at Seattle Grace that used to call her Cupid."

McKay and Whitaker both slowly turned to stare at Mark, then at you, then back at Mark.

"No." McKay shook her head.

"Yes."

“You don’t seriously think….” Whitaker trailed off.

“Oh I do” Santos nodded. “I really do.”

Back at the nurses’ station, you folded your arms, ignoring Mark's attempts at getting under your skin.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh some conference.” He waived his hand dismissively. “Thought I’d take the opportunity to come see Robinavitch.”

You blinked. “You know Dr Robby.” You said slowly.

“Since med school.” He answered smoothly. “Why? Hoping I was here to see you?”

You snorted. “Please.”

“Oh c’mon Cupid don’t act like you don’t miss me.” He smirked as he stepped closer. “You wouldn’t have moved across the other side of the country to forget about me if you didn’t.”

You leant in slightly, shooting him a dry smile. “I wouldn’t touch you again even if my life depended on it Sloan.”

He let out a genuine chuckle. “I’ve missed this.” He gestured between the two of you. “Us."

He placed his chin in the palm of his hand, leaning even closer. "Why did it ever end?”

You pretended to think for a moment. "Maybe because you’re physiologically incapable of staying monogamous?”

“Oh yeah right that.” He nodded. “Speaking of monogamous..."

"No."

"... I’ve heard you’ve got a new boy toy right here at PTMC.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Jesus Christ Meredith needs to learn to keep her mouth shut.”

“Well in her defence she told Derek who then told me so….” Mark trailed off, turning his body around to survey the room. “Which one is he?”

"I'm not playing this game." You answered, folding your arms over your chest.

“Wait let me guess.”

Before you could stop him, Mark placed both hands on your shoulders and gently turned you so you were both facing the floor of the pitt.

His eyes landed on Frank first. “Too pretty boy.”

He guided your shoulders slightly towards Whitaker. “Too scrawny.”

From across the room, Whitaker stiffened. “…Why is he looking at me?”

Santos didn’t look away. “Don’t wave.” She murmured.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were thinking about it.”

Then the ambulance bay doors opened. Jack walked in with a thermos in one hand, his bicep bulging as he shifted the backpack slung over his other shoulder on full display under his dark fitted shirt.

Your stomach dropped as his eyes scanned the room, no doubt looking for you. It didn't take long for his eyes to find yours. You watched as they shifted to Mark, then dropped to Mark's hands resting on your shoulders.

For a moment, his expression barely changed, only the faintest tightening around his jaw gave him away. Then he kept walking.

Mark smiled slowly. “….bingo.”

Your body stiffened as Mark glanced sideways at you.

“I’m right."

You didn't answer.

"I am."

“I’m not talking about my love life with you of all people.”

“Cupid, don’t be like that.” He nudged your shoulder. "Come on, what’s he like?”

“Well for starters, he volunteers as a medic for the SWAT team.” You said sweetly. “So he’s got at least one gun on him at all times.”

Mark nodded slowly, dropping his hands from your shoulders. "Noted."

"He also has excellent aim."

"Message received." Mark held his hands up. "I'll behave."

And then, for the first time since he had appeared, the teasing faded.

"But seriously..." His face softened slightly as his eyes settled on your face properly, no longer performing for the room.

“You’re happy?”

You exhaled slowly, your defences lowering slightly by the unexpected tone of his voice.

“I am.”

“He good to you?"

You smiled softly despite yourself. “He is.”

Something flickered across Mark’s face then, softening the usual sharp lines of his smirk, scarily close to being something sincere. “Good.”

For a moment, the years between you settled there. It didn’t feel painful or bitter or even sad. In fact, it seemed absurd to think that you'd cried over him once upon a time. Now he was just a story you told after one too many drinks, something you reflected on and shook your head, chalking it up to the foolishness of youth.

You cleared your throat, looking away first. “How’s work?”

“Busy, chaotic, dramatic.” Mark shrugged.

"So the usual then?"

“The usual.”

He glanced around the emergency department, frowing slightly as he took in the noise, the movement, the organised disaster of it all. “How’s the ED?”

“Busy, chaotic.” You echoed. “Somehow still much less dramatic than Seattle Grace."

Mark barked out a laugh. “Yeah that checks out.”

“Sloan.”

The two of you turned to see Robby making his way towards you, Jack beside him.

Mark's grin returned instantly.

“Robinavitch.” He broke away from you and pulled Robby into a hug with the force of someone who had never respected personal space in his life.

"A lot less hair since I last saw you."

Robby snorted, clapping him on the back. "The Pitt will do that to you.”

Jack caught your eye over Robby’s shoulder, his expression running a fine line between faint amusement and annoyance.

Robby stepped back, shaking his head before gesturing to Jack.

“This is Jack Abbot, night attending.”

“Nice to meet you. Mark Sloan.” Mark stuck his hand out. “Head of Plastic Surgery at Seattle Grace.”

“Plastic surgery?” Jack's brow lifted slightly as he shook Mark’s hand. “Explains the soft hands.”

Mark laughed loudly enough that several people looked over.

“Oh my god.” Whitaker mumbled as he watched Jack and Mark shake hands. “It’s like I’m seeing double.”

Santos shook her head. “She’s got some serious issues.”

McKay folded her arms over her chest as she studied the two men. “Or just good taste.”

“I second the good taste thing.” Princess murmured as she appeared beside McKay.

Perlah took a sip of her drink and nodded. “I third that.”

The handshake lasted just a fraction longer than necessary as Mark glanced over at you. “I get it."

Robby’s eyes narrowed as he gestured between you and Mark.

“You two know eachother?”

“I was an intern at Seattle Grace." You supplied quickly.

“Oh yes, Cupid and I go wayyy back.” Mark smirked.

Robby's confusion only deepened. “Cupid…?”

You shot Mark a warning glare, which he very intentionally ignored.

“Yeah Cupid.” He answered smoothly. “'cause you know she’s got these little angel wings tattooed right above her-“

“Okayyy you know what.” Robby clapped his hands letting out a bark of awkward laughter. “I think a hospital tour sounds like a great idea right about now."

Mark's eyes gleamed as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I was going to say shoulder blade."

“You are going to walk with me." Robby said, already steering him away, “And tell me absolutely none of the rest of that story.”

Mark let himself be guided down the hall, still grinning smugly as he glanced back over his shoulder at you and winked, making you roll your eyes once more.

You dragged your eyes away from him to look at Jack who was yet to move. He watched Mark disappear down the corridor, then looked back at you.

He slowly stepped forward, eyes scanning your figure as he placed his hands casually behind his back.

"Ex?"

You sighed. "...Ex."

Jack nodded curtly. “Got it.”

“Abbot.” You looked over to see Dana studying both of you. “Dr King needs an attending in Room 8.”

Jack's eyes never left you. You watched him intently, waiting to see if he would say anything further. Instead he simply reached into his pocket and produced a protein bar.

You swallowed as he slid it into the front pocket of your scrub top, his fingers lightly against your side subtly.

“Eat.” Was all he said, unable to hide the affection in his voice.

Your throat tightened around a smile as you nodded. He held your gaze for one more second, then turned and headed in the direction of Room 8.

You watched him go, your hand subconsciously brushing over the side that he’d just touched.

When you looked back, Dana was still standing there, one hand on her hip as she watched you over her glasses with an expression far too knowing for your liking.

“Don’t you dare say a word.”

She raised her hands up in mock surrender. “Wasn’t gonna.”

You huffed as you turned, suddenly desperate to busy yourself in order to keep your mind off the cluster fuck that was your two worlds colliding.

For the next twenty minutes, you threw yourself back into work. Every few minutes though, your gaze betrayed you, either drifting towards the corridor where Robby had taken Mark or towards Room 8, where Jack had disappeared. The protein bar sat heavily in your pocket, your appetite now completely non-existent.

By the time you ended up at a computer to finish off your charting, your shift was close enough to ending that you had started to believe you might actually survive it.

“Oh damn, the patient in room 7 died.”

You glanced up to see Whitaker staring at a chart from the workstation beside you.

“The old lady with the chest pain?”

“Yeah.” Whitaker sighed.

You frowned. "That sucks."

“She had a husband right?” Santos chimed in from across from you, not bothering to look up from her own computer.

“Yeah she did, married nearly fifty years."

Without missing a beat, Santos glanced up at you. “Abbot better watch out.”

Your eyes narrowed.

"Nice. Very respectful." Whitaker shook his head, although you could see he was trying not to laugh.

"What?" Santos shrugged. "Our girl clearly has a type."

"Silver foxes?" McKay suggested as she walked past grinning like a cheshire cat.

"I hate all of you."

Whitaker looked over at you like he was genuinely offended. "What did I do?!"

Across the hallway, Jack had just emerged from Room 8. Your eyes met his. He didn’t react beyond the faintest lift of one eyebrow, but you could tell he'd heard every word.

You tipped your head slightly towards the supply closet. Jack looked at you for half a beat, then gave the smallest nod.

You waited a couple minutes before moving.

The supply closet was narrow, overstocked, and smelled faintly of antiseptic and cardboard. You shut the door behind you and leaned against a shelf, exhaling slowly for what felt like the first time in an hour.

A few minutes later, the handle turned. Jack stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him. He leaned back against the opposite shelf, folding his arms loosely across his chest as the two of you studied eachother.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“So… that’s your ex.”

“That’s my ex.”

He nodded. "You left out a few details."

"Such as?"

His gaze dropped briefly, then returned to your face.

“Well first of all I wasn’t expecting Mark Sloan.”

Your brows lifted in surprise. “You know who he is?”

“I’ve heard of him.”

“Of course you have.” You paused for a moment before your voice dropped slightly, unable to hide the insecurity in your tone. "Do you think less of me because I dated someone like him?"

Jack's brows knitted together. "Absolutely not." He said immediately. "It's just that I wasn't expecting your ex to be..."

Your brow furrowed. “Be what?”

“…old.” Was what Jack settled on.

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “He’s not old, he’s like your age.”

“Exactly.” Jack nodded. “I'm practically from the stone age compared to you.”

“You’re not.” You insisted.

Jack’s mouth twitched, but the smile didn’t quite hold as he looked down at the floor.

You studied him for a moment, admiring the lines etched deep into his face that you’d had memorised for as long as you’d known him. “Does it bother you that he’s older?”

“No it doesn’t bother me it’s just...” He sighed. “I thought I was the exception.” He confessed.

Your face softened instantly as you pushed off the wall and took a step towards him.

"Jack."

"I know it’s irrational.” He said, giving a small, self-deprecating shrug. “I just thought I was the first older doctor you’d made questionable life choices over.”

You huffed a small laugh as you closed the gap between the two of you, reaching up to cradle his jaw.

“Hey.” You said gently, guiding his eyes up to meet yours.

“When I met Mark I was young and overwhelmed and had just moved to a new city and he was…” You trailed off, glancing at the door like Mark might somehow materialise on cue.

“…well you’ve seen what he’s like.”

You brushed a thumb over his stubble that lined his jaw. “It barely even qualified as a relationship. And then it ended and we worked together for months. And then I moved.”

Jack leant into your touch slightly, his eyes never leaving your face as you spoke, attentive in the way that always made your heart ache a little.

“And then on my first day here I met a grumpy doctor up on the roof while I was mid meltdown.”

His brows drew together in feigned disbelief. “I don’t think he was grumpy.”

“He told me if I was thinking of jumping I shouldn’t because it’d be a shame to ruin a face like mine.”

The frown that had a hold on his face loosened just a fraction. “Why on earth would he think that line would work.”

“In his defence, I think he was a little out of practice.”

His hands settled at your waist, warm and steady through the thin fabric of your scrubs. “Or his brain short circuited when he saw you.”

Your smile widened as you slid your arms around the back of his neck, entwining your fingers absentmindedly around the silver curls at the nape of his neck.

“Well, lucky for him it worked.”

The reluctant smile finally reached his eyes. “Very lucky.” He corrected.

He glanced down, playing with the tie of your scrub pants.

“I just can’t believe you dated a plastic surgeon.”

You snorted softly. “Is that seriously what’s bothering you the most?”

“Yes.” He answered plainly.

You shook your head, a wry smile on your lips. “Not the stupid nickname?”

Jack glanced down at you, his grip on your hips tightening ever so slightly.

“If he calls you that again I may have no choice but to punch him.” He conceded casually as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

His head tilted slightly as he studied you for a moment. “But at least he can fix his own nose up after.”

You let out a laugh, running a hand over his chest. “Don’t worry.” You soothed. “I already told him you volunteer with the SWAT team.”

Jack smirked down at you proudly. “Atta girl.”

Then he leant down and finally pressed his lips to yours in a slow, reverent kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes narrowed immediately.

“Did you eat?”

You winced slightly. “Not yet.” You patted the pocket that contained the protein bar. “I’ll eat this and then go.”

Jack frowned, clearly unsatisfied with your solution. “Go home and eat something more substantial.”

“I will.”

“There’s pasta in the fridge for you, all you have to do is chuck it in the microwave.”

Your interest piqued immediately. “The pesto one I love?”

“Of course.”

You grinned, pressing your forehead against his. “You’re very good to me Dr Abbot.”

His smile softened into something private, something reserved just for you. “Anything for my girl.”

You kissed him again, deeper this time, enjoying the feeling of his warmth seeping into you.

“Alright.” He muttered reluctantly against your lips as he pulled away. “Get going before I end up locking you in here.”

You smirked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He shot you a warning glare with absolutely no bite to it.

You huffed dramatically, “alright alright.”

You reached for the door, then paused, glancing back at him.

“And for the record, if you’re worried about feeling old…”

Jack raised a brow.

“You should meet my other ex, he checked into the nursing home down the road last week.”

“Very funny.” He muttered, trying but failing to look unamused.

“I know I am.”

“Go.” He urged as he tapped your backside affectionately.

You raised your hands in mock defeat, slipping back into the pitt without another word.

Jack shook his head as the door shut softly behind you, a lovesick smile spreading across his face.

As always always always, feedback is always appreciated because I thrive off praise. Please give it back here and consider tipping me! 🤍

[kiyosuku]

"Hey, pal."

『Avengers : Doomsday』

[amandamariee]

jack abbot fic recs (my military doctor husband)

scar tissue by @inlovewithquestionablecharacters

rumors by @yawnlovescookies

lost and found by @zivistardust

↳ i gave it to her by @/zivistardust

in the way by @mehchuis

a little old for you by @thesewordsareallihavetogive

emergency contact by @imaginesofwonder

plenty of fish by @katchamb3rs

place your bets by @theadventuresoftheunknown

doc, i think she's crashing out by @softundermoonlight

after hours by @abbotafterhours

night shift by @lilyswritings

coming around again by @lovebugism

nanny by @bitters-n-sweets

honesty is the best policy by @moondustfairies

prove you wrong by @cryonme

is this it by @lovableapocalypse

cologne and money by @relaxdiva

don''t worry by @abbots-go-bag

she's my wife by @petalsforjoy

call me by @butyoudidthis4what

these walls have eyes by @asxgard

the night shift by @betonlosingdogs

this fic by @belleeebelleee

let me take care of you by @voidsagent

↳ 10 things i hate about you by @/voidsagent

↳ tiny hands by @/voidsagent

a side of sweetness by @i-love-hozier

tuesday by @notyourlovemonkey

emergency contact by @kalila

busy bee by @mercvry-glow

cry into him by @richeeduvie

too sweet by @pencil-n-pen

↳ you've ruined my life by@/pencil-n-pen

distance by @s-writing-s

where the hell is my husband by @imaginesofwonder

↳ happily married by @/imaginesofwonder

married? by @yawnlovescookies

on me by @snoopysupe

kisses and made up by @targaryenluvs

[chateaubarnes]

snippet sunday! ⋆.°.‧₊

coming tomorrow!

[w1nter-fairy]

── ⋆⋅☆red star bruise on tour! ⋅⋆ ──

pairing: rockstar!bucky barnes x groupie!reader

warnings: +18 MDNI explicit sexual content, unprotected p in v, bucky barnes can be a jerk sometimes. dom/sub dynamics, oral sex (f and m receiving), dirty talk, emotional sabotage, situationship, angst with a happy ending, strong language. english is not my first language so sorry in advance for any spelling/grammar mistake.⋆

word count: 19.7k

── ⋆⋅☆cronological order⋅⋆ ──

prequel one more encore!

summary: When a bachelorette weekend lands you front row at a sold-out show in Austin, you catch the attention of your favorite rockstar: Bucky Barnes—and one reckless night turns into something neither of you planned for.

room for three

summary: two weeks into tour, Bucky suggests to invite Steve to join you in bed—just like they've done with other girls before. It's supposed to prove that you're nothing special. The problem is, Bucky might be lying to himself.

headliner problems

summary: You and Bucky keep keep things casual, until one night, one question, and one wrong answer sends everything spiraling.

+more tbaᯓ★

scared i'll never sleep again

summary: On tour, Bucky Barnes has everything: sold-out shows, screaming fans, the adrenaline of being untouchable… and you, the one who made a cramped tour bus feel like home. He was clear from the start—no relationships. No labels. But somewhere between city lights and hotel nights, those lines begin to blur. You become more than convenient, more than temporary. And he becomes too much of a coward to admit what you are to him.

requests for this series are closed. 🔒︎

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Can You Feel It (through you)

✦Read on a03! - Bucky Masterlist - Main Masterlist✦ ✦pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader✦ ✦summary: You fall in deep, deep love with Bucky Barnes. But you keep it far, far down. Everyone thinks he feels something back, but you don't believe them. Until something shifts. And Bucky might feel just as much as you.✦ ✦warnings/tags: assistant!reader, friends to lovers, falling in love, anxiety, light angst, fluff, pining, shameless smut, love confessions, (hair pulling kink, praise kink, trying to keep quiet, oral f!receiving, p in v sex, softdom!bucky), no use of y/n✦ ✦author's note: rewatched thunderbolts last week. very normal about post-credit scene bucky hair. enjoy!.✦

You have a bad habit. 

You don’t fall in love halfway. You don’t feel halfway. There’s no middle ground, between smiling at someone and wondering if they feel the flutter of your heartbeat, and staring at them until you’ve memorized them. Until you can close your eyes in bed, and fantasize like a movie is playing on the ceiling. 

It’s a little obsessive. It’s the only way you’ve known how to be. And nothing is ever acted on. No lines are ever crossed. You don’t steal things, or stalk. 

You just fall in quiet, one-sided love. Never speak of it, in case you’re wrong. Flirt, but poorly. Try to make them notice you, without stepping out of line. Most of these obsessive little crushes slowly wither down, the less time you spend with the person. Once you graduate, or change jobs, or one of you moves. Sometimes you try to hold onto it. Just so you have someone to think about.

But it fades. And you keep going, because it never really mattered in the first place. Not one of your little fantasies has ever come true. You never did—and never would have—done anything to act upon it. More than anything, your love was just for you. 

And you’re good, at separating it from real life. The guy in college—with a lazy smile and body that probably might be too big for his brain—might have gotten help on his homework, and you might have chosen a class just because he was in it. But you also did well in the class. And you’d needed to take it anyways. Same at your first job, which you applied because he was. 

You got it. He didn’t. 

And you’re not so pathetic that when he told you, you stepped down. It was a good job. With connections. 

Connections that you built, while dreaming about the new guy. His neat, tailored business suits and smug expression that did something to your gut. He’d teased you, and you’d teased back. You got lunch together, even though you hated the Mediterranean place he brought. you to. There was a better one on fifth street, but you never told him. In case it made him dislike you. 

At the holiday party, he’d brought a shiny girlfriend, wearing diamonds and gold and looking at you like you were something she’d like to carve up. You’d smiled at her, even as your heart split in half.

You spoke to him every day. 

He’d never mentioned a girlfriend.

He hadn’t stop teasing you after that, but you’d stopped indulging him. You didn’t leap up to get his reports any more. You turned down a few lunches, just for your own sanity. Because you knew he’d be able to suck you right back in, if you weren’t careful. 

After that was the guy at your coffee shop. Your age. White-toothed smile and the most expensive watch you’ve ever seen. He attached sit with you, and listen, and laugh. You’d giggle, and paint a picture about how he was secretly in love with you, coming to this coffee shop every day. Just thinking about you after he left, right up until he saw you again. 

Like that wasn’t exactly what you were doing. 

Like he didn’t give you his number—you hadn’t even asked—then vanished without a trace. 

You needed to get a better type. Fall for someone who didn’t treat you like you were something second-hand and easy, even if you were. 

The dream was to be held up like a diamond, even if you knew you were barely more than a particularly shiny beach rock. 

No more douchebags, is what you told your heart. 

It had hummed. Settled for a while, until you started job searching again. Clicked on executive assistant, further detail upon interview. The listing had been odd, and secretive. But it had payed six fucking figures, so it could be a scam to steal your kidney and you’d take the gamble. 

It hadn’t been a kidney scam. 

It had been worse. 

Valentina had hired you on the spot. Told you that you were the first candidate who didn’t seem like a complete buffoon. 

“Thank you?” You’d said, smoothing out your skirt, and she’d smiled.

“You are welcome. I mean, everyone else?” She’d laughed. “They would have gotten eaten alive, by the buffoon brigade. You’re a lion. Lions? That’s what I need. They eat buffoons for breakfast.”

That didn’t seem true. But correcting Valentina hadn’t seemed like a good idea, so you’d smiled and laughed politely, then asked when she wanted you to start. 

Quickly. You’d gotten thrown into the deep end. Valentina had hustled you through the system, almost dragged you through the tower, then shouted into the comms that every one of them needed to be in the control room, or she’d be cutting off the wifi for a week. 

You’d shifted on your feet next to her, as they’d all shuffled in with varying degrees of scowling. Yelena had looked you up and down, then sighed dramatically. 

“Another one? Valentina, we have told you, we do not need a babysitter-“

“She isn’t a babysitter. She’s an assistant. If none of you acted like children, it wouldn’t feel like babysitting.”

Yelena had rolled her eyes, and the man next to her—John Walker, in his little beret that you weren’t allowed to laugh at—had examined you, standing at a tall attention like he was trying to either intimidate you, or about to do a very strange mating dance. 

“Has she served?” He’d asked. “You. New girl. What’s your military history? Your hands look soft, have they ever even held a gun-“

“She’s an assistant, Walker.” Another woman—pretty, long hair, nice accent, Ghost—had drawled. “If we do our job, she’ll never need to hold a gun.”

“You never know, she needs to be able to defend herself in this line of work-“

“I will teach doe-girl to fight!” The large, older man had shouted, and the rest of them had cringed at the noise. “She will be most formidable assistant in America! Crush all others under iron fist, from training of-“

“Don’t say Red Guardian.” Yelena had sighed. “We have talked about this, Alexei. Do not refer to yourself like that in front of civilians.”

Alexei had frowned, and looked to the quiet, blonde kid in the corner. He’d shrugged, and given Alexei and apologetic smile. 

“It can be a little unnerving. Most people don’t, um- Do that.”

“But we are not most people, Bob. And I am Red Guardian. She should know.” Alexei had nodded to you. “She will receive best training in West-“

“Yeah.” Walker had jumped in. “Because I’ll train her.”

Alexei had frowned. “I called first, Walker.”

“Well,” Walker had shrugged. “I have more experience. And I won’t shout at her.”

Yelena had snorted, and Walker had shot her glare. 

“What-“

“You will not shout at her.” Yelena had laughed. “That is funny. You yelled at the toaster, two days ago.”

“It was broken. As long as she isn’t broken, we’ll be fine-“

“You will not be fine,” Alexei had snapped. “Because I am training her!”

“No, you aren’t. Drop it-“

“I will not drop it. It was my idea. Mine. You do not steal it-“

“Everyone. Shut up.” 

From the back of the room, with barely a raised voice, Bucky had cut Alexei off. Shot John a warning look, when he’d opened his mouth. And they’d all listened.

He’d been sitting on a chair, almost hidden behind the noise of the rest of them. Your eyes had found him for a moment, when he came in, but he’d just looked tired. Bored. Staring into space, as Valentina introduced you. 

You’d seen him on the news before. His hair had been both shorter, and longer. 

He was too handsome, either way. With strong features, tanned skin, and bright eyes that seemed to drive right into you. You’d be lying, if you said your gaze hadn’t lingered on the TV whenever he showed up.

In person, it was catastrophically worse. There was a gravity to him, that almost pulled your heart out of your chest. His voice was deep and smooth, those blinding eyes fixed on yours as he spoke. It almost made you lightheaded. 

“Nobody’s training her.” He’d muttered, still looking at you. “Ava’s right. If we do our jobs, we won’t have to.”

That had been the end of the conversation. For all the in-fighting that seemed to happen, for the almost sibling-like rivalry they all seemed to be locked into, Bucky spoke and they listened. Valentina had moves on, to what they were and weren’t allowed to ask of you. 

Bucky had kept looking at you. You know, because you’d been watching him in your periphery, forcing yourself not to lose track of why you were here. To work. 

But his eyes had dragged over your body. Assessing for a threat, you’d guessed. Trying to see if you’re made of something strong enough to handle this. 

So you’d relaxed and tipped your chin up.

Bucky had sighed softly, and gone back into staring at nothing. You’d risked one last glance, before you’d followed Valentina out of the room. 

He hadn’t been looking at you. His head had been tipped back, eyes closed and mouth in a thin line. Even the column of his throat had looked strong, and hands had been clasped together between his knees, and fuck, his thighs were thick- 

No. 

You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t do that. Not here. 

So you’d tried to fight it.

You really had. 

The first few months were so rough, it hadn’t given you the chance to be distracted, to tumble down into Bucky’s gravity. The New Avengers quickly became less like celebrities and mythical figures, and more like petulant children, angry they were being given a new nanny. Yelena kept giving you harder and harder tasks, like she was trying to test exactly what would make you break. Alexei made you listen to fifty different—yet somehow identical—stories about Russia and the glory days, asking you questions after to test if you’d been paying attention. Walker had a habit of shouting orders at you, and trying to test your survival instincts. Ava made passing, frank comments about how you carried yourself, and kept trying to guess everything about your history. She’d nod to herself when she got something right. Like she was putting together a puzzle, and just found another piece. 

Bob tried to play nice, offering apologetic comments about the rest of them, but also never really asked you for anything either. 

Bucky ignored you. So that made it easier, to not feel anything. You barely saw him at all. 

Then things started to shift. You didn’t break. You’ve been through far worse than this, and for what Valentina’s paying you—more money than you’ve seen in your life—one of them could try to fucking shoot you and you wouldn’t quit. 

The change happens, when Yelena asks you to drive to fucking Chicago, to get a cake from a bakery she found online. 

“No jet.” She’d said. “Bad for the environment. Drive.”

Walker had grinned. They were trying to, at least, get rid of you for a few days. Maybe finally make you snap, and quit. 

But you don’t break. You find the bakery, realize it’s a chain, and head out without a complaint. Get the exact cake, from the place in Brooklyn, and drive back. It takes about an hour. 

Yelena had frowned, when you came back.

“I said no jet-“

“I drove.” You’d shrugged, dropping the cake on the counter. “You can check the receipt. It’s exactly what you wanted.”

“No, I wanted it from Chicago-“

“They make these in factories, Yelena.” You’d said coolly. “I promise you, it’s the same in Brooklyn that it would be in Chicago, or LA, or the middle of butt fuck nowhere. Enjoy your cake.”

Yelena’s eyes had narrowed, as you walked away. Right past Bucky, who’d tracked your movements with an expression you’d been too tired to analyze. 

Bucky had found you, that evening. Stood across from you, as you ate your dinner at the counter. He’d cleared his throat, and you’d looked up with a sigh.

“Barnes, I’m off the clock-“

“We both know you’re never off the clock.” He’d said pointedly, and you’d swallowed. 

He’d been staring at you. His eyes were so blue, his lips pink and full, his body almost taking up your vision, even from a few feet away. Focus.

“Well, I-“ You’d flushed, and looked down to your soup. “Can I please finish dinner, first? I just- I haven’t eaten, but then I can help you-“

“No, I don’t want your-“ He’d paused, then frowned. “You haven’t eaten?”

You’d nodded. His frown had deepened.

“It’s almost 10pm.” 

“I know.”

“And… You haven’t eaten.”

You’d sighed, turning the spoon in your fingers. “It’s been… Busy.”

Bucky had grunted, a strange, firm expression on his face. “They’ve been working you.”

“It’s my job.”

“Hm.” His tongue had flicked over his lips. “You haven’t quit. They usually quit.”

“What can I say.” You’d shrugged. “I’m good with children.”

Bucky’s lips had twitched. He’d chuckled, and shaken his head. 

“I’ll talk to them.”

He’d walked away. Leaving you alone with your soup, trying to figure out what had just happened. He’d been here. Talking to you. You don’t think he’d said your name, but he’d looked at you. Like you were important. Like you could be important to him. 

Then things had started to change. Suddenly. So suddenly, it was like a switch had been flipped. None of them looked at you like you were a parasite or vermin, intruding upon their space. Like you were just an unwelcome limb of Valentina, and it would be nice if they could chop you off. 

There were no more insane demands. No snide comments, or strangely veiled, crazy tests. Everything changed so drastically, that for a second it felt like you weren’t doing your job at all. They didn’t ask anything of you, for almost a month. 

Bucky said something to them. And whatever it was, they’ve stopped trying to drive you out. You force yourself not to think about why. What could make him do that for you. If he did it for you—just you—or because he was tired of handling them all by himself. 

If you think about it. You’re thinking about him. His soft looking hair, and that small smile, and the way his arms had flexed when he’d braced them on the counter. His voice, when he’d said your name. How he’d said your name. How it sounded right. 

Don’t think about it. You’re not doing this again. 

You have other things to focus on, anyway. Just enough to distract you from doing anything more than flushing, whenever you pass Bucky in the halls. Because now that you weren’t treading water, trying desperately not to drown, you could actually do your job.

Their schedules stop being thrown together around midnight, now that you have the time to organize them. You reach out to all the contacts that have been sitting in the folder Valentina provided you, scheduling building maintenance, public appearances, and everything else that had taken the back burner. You even get all of them doctors, and update their personal profiles. Alexei’s emergency contact is still Mother Russia. It takes an hour to convince him to change it, but he listens with a grumbling sigh. 

And you start to learn their habits, as well. Yelena liked honey in her tea. There was a specific mug she used, but rarely cleaned, so you did it for her. Walker liked to watch the news, but pretend he wasn’t watching the news, so no one made fun of him. You stared printing out stories and setting them front of his door, with the sections you’d noticed he’d linger on highlighted. Ava had trouble sleeping—most of them did—so you started making her tea as well, keeping it bitter and passing it to her without a word after dinner.

Alexei stopped with the stories, but you’re pretty sure he’s ingrained them into your brain. 

He’s telling a story in the common area, none of them paying attention, and you look up from your laptop. You’ve been planning out their schedules, locked into timing and color-coding and staggering Bucky and Ava’s around talking the press, because they’re bad at it. Just a few words of Alexei’s story breached your thoughts, tugging up a memory of the same story from before. 

“This is the one where you save the Prime Minister, right? And prevent another world war?”

Alexei grins at you, chest puffed out, and claps his hands together. “Yes! Finally, someone who appreciates my heroing-“

“Heroism.” Ava mutters, but she’s looking at you strangely. 

But they all are. Yelena, Walker, even Bob. They’re looking at you. Not like before, or the past few months. 

Like they’re actually seeing you. And they don’t mind it.

You swallow, face heating. Glance over to Bucky. 

He’s reading in the corner. Hasn’t looked up since he sat down. 

But there’s that small smile on his face. The same one from the kitchen.

And you’re gone. 

You’re in love again. And this might be the worst one yet. 

He’s different. You say that about all of them, but this time it’s true. Bucky’s quiet. Less boastful, even with the face of a god, and a strong, broad body that almost radiates heat. There’s no humbleness, but rather just… A lack of thought. He doesn’t blink, when he picks up the whole couch because you dropped your pen. There’s no smugness, or suppression of it, when they’re on a mission and he takes out twenty men with his bare hands. No boasting, when they’re all debriefing, and Yelena announces that Bucky climbed the elevator shaft and outran the truck. 

Bucky just sighs. Like it’s not something worth pointing out.

And you flush, losing track of your notes as you imagine him grabbing your waist and throwing you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. His hands on your bare hips, fingers digging into your skin as he flips you over. His muscles rippling around you, as you just hug him. Slow dance in the kitchen, his handsome face inches from yours, his tongue flicking over his lips, everything in you consumed by his gaze and presence- 

Someone says your name. You cough, and look anywhere but Bucky. “Yes?”

“You okay, bumblebee?” Yelena frowns at you, and you smile. 

“Yeah! I- I’m good.” Your thighs press together. You can feel his gaze. “What’s up.”

Yelena gives you a strange look, but keeps going. 

Bucky’s still looking at you. 

He looks at you a lot. Or really, not all that much, but more than he looks at other people. Which has to mean something. 

You turn it into something. Every time he talks to you, even about work, your head spins with he’d never ask anyone else to go over his mission report.

It’s no one else’s job. You decide not to focus on that part. He’s talking to you. 

You smile at the ceiling that night, grinding into your sheet and picturing Bucky’s face as he’d asked you. If he’d been nervous. Hopeful. A little less bored than usual, because was talking to you. If he’d brushed your hand on purpose, as he handed you the papers. 

How his fingers had felt. Thick and calloused. Warm. 

Your hand wanders between your thighs, as you picture them toying with the line of your panties. Sliding between your pussy lips. Dragging circles around your clit, and-

You muffle your cry of his name, into your pillow. 

In the morning, when you make him his coffee, his face is oddly red.

“Did you sleep okay?” You ask, worry worming in your heart.

Bucky coughs, and nods. “Yeah- Uh- Good. Slept good.” He pauses. “You?”

“Also good.” You mumble, trying to focus on his bicep. It doesn’t help. Your mind wanders to it wrapped around your neck. Tight but gentle, as your back is pressed to his chest and his hand slaps against your cunt- 

“Good.” Bucky says, and you blink at him, flushing. “It’s- good. That you- Slept good.” He coughs. “I’m gonna go- Do stuff.”

He walks away before you can say anything else. Leaving you stranded in the kitchen, trying to combat the ache between your thighs without doing anything fucking insane. 

Work. You have work to do. 

And for everything you’ve put into the rest of the team, you’ve been putting more into Bucky. You try to reign yourself in, keep it just enough that it doesn’t seen like special treatment, but you’re not good at loving halfway. You don’t make anyone else coffee in the morning. Don’t drive all the way to Queens for anyone else, for the good farmers market that has the plums and honeycombs he likes. You have everyone’s preferences and schedule memorized, but you don’t just find yourself in the gym when Walker’s there. Don’t turn on Yelena’s k-pop, when she’s in the library. 

Don’t cling to Ava, when you’re at crowded press events. 

“That’s a lot of people.” You mumble, looking out to the crowd. 

Bucky chuckles. The sound rolls through you, even without a touch. “Yeah. Guess it is.”

“Do you- Want some water-“

“I’m fine, doll.” He gives you a firm look. “You should breathe.”

You nod weakly. That seems like a good idea. 

It’s only after they’re all on the stage, that you realize he called you doll. 

And his hand lingers on your lower back, when he opens the door for you. 

He probably didn’t even think about it. You spend the whole event bouncing on your toes, fingers reaching back to trace your spine where he’d touched you. Trying to think of how you can get him to call you doll again. 

Trying to figure out if that meant anything. It doesn’t really matter if it did. 

It still makes it into your dreams that night, where Bucky walks you back against a wall. Crashes his mouth over yours, mutters that you’re his, his pretty, smart doll, then falls to his knees and presses his face between your thighs. 

You wake up, underwear ruined and face heated. Bucky stares at you, while you eat breakfast. During the meeting. After. 

Sometimes, it helps to remember that you’re technically his employee. You’re not supposed to even really be friends. 

But it doesn’t help how, since things changed, they’ve all been treating you like they’re one of them. Yelena takes you to her favorite knife shop, and teaches you how to throw. Ava lets you watch cartoons with her, as long as you swear not to tell anyone else. Alexei makes you dinner of great Russia, and Bob talks to you about his books. Even Walker is nicer and nicer. He orders cookies, from some place on the west coast. No one else is allowed to touch them, because they have a sad sentimental value. 

He gives you one, though. Without barely a word. Just shoves it into your hand. 

“Thank you.” He grunts. “For getting these. And- Giving me the day off.” 

You nod, and you’d forgotten you even did that. He’d just been getting quieter and quieter, which was unnerving. You’d figured he deserved a break. 

“His partner died, this time two years ago.”

You look up, and find Bucky in the doorway, arms folded over his chest. “John?”

Bucky’s jaw ticks, but he nods. “Yeah. John.”

“Oh. I didn’t-“ You swallow, looking down to your cookie. “That’s sad.”

“Yep.” Bucky grunts. “You gave him the day off.”

“He… Looked like he needed it.”

“That’s sweet of you.” Bucky mutters, and you shrug.

“I guess.” You break your cookie in half, and hold it up. “Do you want some of my cookie?”

Bucky stares at you. Stiffens. His throat bobs, and he shakes his head. 

“I’m alright. Thanks, doll.”

He walks away again, and you flush. Maybe you offended him. Or crossed the invisible line you’ve been so careful about. You just want him to like you, and you think he does—even if it’s not how you want—but it’s Bucky, and you don’t think you’re ever going to be able to tell. 

Sometimes, you lie awake at night and try to measure it. Run through the day, picking apart every word and action, stringing them up for examination. Bucky would clear anyone’s plate, because he’s a gentleman, and he’s done it before for Bob. He wouldn’t just sit next to anyone during movie night. Wouldn’t let anyone borrow one of his books, except maybe Bob. He would grab anyone an apple from the kitchen if they asked—gentleman—but he’d probably grumble about it. He hadn’t grumbled when you’d asked.

He’d brought you water, too. Muttered that you haven’t been drinking enough. He wouldn’t have noticed that about anyone else. 

He wouldn’t have stayed up with anyone else, either. Waited until you murmured you were going to bed, to do the same. 

He hadn’t walked you to bed. He had said good night, and touched your shoulder. He wouldn’t do that with anyone else.

Expect Bob. He’s said goodnight to Bob, before. Clapped his shoulder. 

Maybe Bucky’s in love with Bob.

You need to go to bed. 

It only keeps growing, though. The love you have for him. And Bucky is different, because you’re only blooming around him. There are no anxious butterflies. Just comfort at his presence. A glowing feeling in your chest, whenever he gives you attention. 

He trusts you. That’s something else no one else gets. He eats with you—he never eats with anyone—and turns his back on you when he’s grabbing a book in the library. 

It’s not a cold shoulder. 

You’ve never seen him turn his back on anyone else.

“Have you seen the Lord of the Rings movies?” You ask, and he frowns.

“I don’t like most movies, now. They got… A lotta colors.”

You giggle. “Colors? You don’t like colors?”

He rolls his eyes. “Just ain’t used to them, movies shouldn’t be tryin’ to blind me, they should be telling a story.”

“Okay. You should watch Lord of the Rings.”

Bucky sighs. “I just said-“

“I know.” You shrug. “And I think you’ll still like it.”

He pauses. Watch you carefully, then glances down to the book in his hands.

“You gonna watch it with me?” He mutters, and you flush.

Nod, before you can think better of it. “Yeah. Sure.”

Bucky grins at you. 

He doesn’t grin at anyone else. 

Doesn’t stay up until midnight, with anyone else. Doesn’t share food, or let anyone else bring him a drink. When you fall asleep, in the middle of the movie, you wake up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around you, and Bucky reading in the other chair. 

“Did you,” you yawn, squinting at him through your sleep. “Did you like it?”

“The movie?”

You hum, and his lips twitch.

“Yeah. Loved it.” He clears his throat, and looks back to his book. “We should do the second one. Next week.”

You beam. “Okay.”

And Yelena notices first. You’re making a sandwich, and she grabs her mug out of the cabinet. Stares at you, head tilted slightly. 

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shrugs, walking over to the tea kettle. “Bucky Barnes is in love with you.”

You cough. Drop your knife in shock, and it nicks your finger. You yelp in pain, wrapping the cut in a towel, and gape at her.

“No- That’s- You’re- What-“

“He is in love with you.” She shrugs. “There are band aids. In top cabinet-“

“I know, I put them there- What do you mean, Bucky’s-“

“He makes puppy face. Like-“ Yelena pouts her lips, making her eyes big and sad, and that looks nothing like Bucky. “He adores you. All mission, it is about you. He got you old book, in Scotland. It is disgusting.”

You shake your head, thoughts racing too fast to filter. “No, it’s- He’s- I never got a book- And Bucky isn’t-“

He shouts your name. Stomps into the kitchen with a scowl, grabs your hand, and pulls the cloth back to reveal the cut.

“Jesus, doll, how did you-“ He glares at Yelena. “The hell did you do to her?”

“Nothing. Not everything is an evil plot, Bucky Barnes.”

His jaw twitches, and he looks back to you. “Are you-“

“I’m okay.” You try to sound collected. Soothing. Your voice is too breathy, because he’s so close. He smells like pine trees and rain. “We were just talking, and I- I dropped my knife.”

“Hm.” He grunts, scanning over your features. “You need to be more careful.”

You nod weakly. “Oh- Okay.”

Yelena sighs dramatically. Mutters something under her breath that even Bucky doesn’t seem to hear.

Bucky picks you up and sits you on the counter. He’s examining your finger like it’s going to turn into a bullet wound. 

You ignore Yelena’s pointed look. You’re too lost in Bucky anyway. 

Touching you. Taking care of you. 

You stare at the band aid, hours later. You’re supposed to be working. All you can think about is how delicately he’d touched you. How he’d stood between your legs, then finished your sandwich so you wouldn’t have to work. You sigh dreamily, like a lovesick schoolgirl. 

Bob notices next. 

Bucky smiles at you, before they go off on a mission. You smile back, so wide your cheeks hurt. The door closes behind them, and you bounce on your face with a stupid, giddy expression. 

Bob clears his throat next to you. 

“Did- Yelena talk to you?”

You shake your head. “About what?”

“Bucky.”

You flush. “I- I don’t know- She- That’s- Why would she need to talk to me about Bucky?”

“No reason.” Bob says quickly. “Just… His feelings. And- Being careful with them?”

That doesn’t make any sense. You frown at Bob, and he sighs.

“I’d never seen Bucky smile before.” He mutters, almost apologetically. “It’s good! But- I don’t know. We just wanted to tell you? So that it doesn’t,” he turns a little red under your stare. “Go back to being grumpy Bucky? But also, there’s no pressure, even if Ava thinks you like him back-“

“Ava thinks what?!”

Your shriek echoes off the walls, and Bob flinches. 

“Nothing?”

“Bob-“

“Okay, we’ve just- We’ve all noticed how close you and Bucky are, and it’s nice, and I love love! Love is cool! Can you please stop looking at me like you’re about to- Um- Explode?”

“No, I’m not-“ You take a deep breath. It’s fine. It’s all fine, as long as Bucky doesn’t know. “What do you mean, we’ve all noticed?”

“Um… That we’ve all noticed?”

“Oh.” You wrap your arms around your stomach. “Okay.”

And Bob’s not exaggerating. They all seem to have something to say about you and Bucky. You gently pry them, one at a time. Ava’s blunter that Yelena, grumbling that she’s never seen something so pathetically adorable as Bucky, trailing after you like a puppy. Alexei goes on a long ramble about Bucky smile like new dawn, when he looks at you. John just rolls his eyes, and grumbles that you can’t not see it. It’s obvious. 

Is it?

You don’t think so. 

They all seem to be seeing what they want. You and Bucky are friends. 

You’re in love with him, but that doesn’t mean he’s in love with you. You’d know. You’ve dedicated a whole year, to pretending he’s in love with you in your dreams. To devoting time and effort, just to try and get him to love you back. Spent meetings daydreaming about his touch, and whole dinners and plane rides just staring at his lips. You’d notice, if he actually loved you back. You would. 

Yelena mutters that she’s never seen Bucky as awkward, as he is around you. You just don’t think he talks to her all that much. 

You don’t tell Bucky, what they’ve been saying. You don’t let it change anything, because that’s the rule. You love him, obsessively and silently. Write his name on your heart, and never show him. Nothing happens. Nothing changes. No moves are ever made, because that crosses the line from pining into weirdo. 

Everyone can look at you, all smug and knowing, as much as they want. Nothing’s going to change. You’re sure of it, because you spend all your time with Bucky, and he doesn’t stare at your lips. Doesn’t accidentally-on-purpose touch you. He just accidentally touches you. Stares at your face, because Bucky stares. That’s how he is. 

Then, something shifts.

You can’t pinpoint it. Can’t give it a name. It’s just another move night. You end up a little closer to Bucky than you need to be, but without any strength to pull away. His arm wraps around the back of the couch—around you—with his thumb brushing your shoulders. You shiver, but don’t speak. He’s done that before. You don’t think he knows, what it does to you. That he’s even doing it at all. 

The movie ends, after midnight. Everyone else had long gone to bed, leaving just you and Bucky. 

“That was good.” You mumble, and he hums.

“Yeah. One of the better ones.”

You giggle. “Oh, the highest form of compliment.”

Bucky grunts. “Only for you, doll.”

“What an honor. I feel so important-“

“Yeah, alright. Don’t get smug.”

“I have never been smug.”

“Yes, you have. And you,” he pokes your side, and you squeal. “Get mouthy.”

“I do- No-“ You whack his hand, scrambling back as he tries to poke you again. You chuck a pillow at his head, and he grabs one of your ankles. 

You kick him, right in the nose, and he drops your foot with a grunt. 

“Bucky- Fuck-“ You scramble forwards, grabbing his face between your hands. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to-“ 

He mutters your name. “‘m fine-“

“I know, just-“ Your thumb traces the slope of his nose, and you rise a little higher on your knees. You’re trying to see if anything is broken, if he needs any more attention- 

Bucky grunts your name, and grabs your wrist. “Doll. ‘m okay.”

You look down at him.

He’s looking back. 

Your breath catches, and you whisper, “Hi.”

Bucky’s lips twitch, eyes shining up at you. “Hello.” 

There’s something in his gaze. 

Something adoring. 

And there it is. 

The change. 

Or no change at all. Maybe you’re just seeing him look, for the first time. You swallow, your fingers tugging at the blanket. Bucky’s eyes drop to your lips, then fly back up. 

His tongue flicks out.

Heat floods between your legs. 

And Bucky groans.

“What?” You whisper, and he shakes his head.

“Nothin’. Nothin’ that you-“ He sighs. “Don’t worry about it, doll.”

“Bucky-“

His voice drops. “Don’t.” 

You press your lips in a tight line. Scan over his face, trying to find the answer written on his features. 

The air is wired, as the silence continues. The heat of Bucky’s body, it sinks into your skin. His gaze still drives into you. 

You lean a little further forward, as his gravity grabs you by the throat. You’re over him, now, and his hands fly to your waist. Bucky’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t lean away. 

And if this is what everyone sees, when he looks at you, there aren’t many looks you can take out of it. Bucky’s eyes are gleams, in the dark. His fingers are curling into your sides, sending sparks through your body. 

“It’s late.” He mutters, and you nod.

“It is.” You breathe. “We should go to bed.”

“Yeah. We should.”

He doesn’t move. You don’t either. 

“What was wrong?” You whisper, and his eyes flash. You can almost see him thinking. Trying to weigh if it’s worth telling you. If you’re worth being told, and the heat it’s going to make you explode if something doesn’t happen soon- 

“I can smell it.” He rasps. “When you… Feel things.”

Your mouth falls open, and you try to lean away from him. You need to run away. Flee the state. Flee the country. Flee the fucking planet. “Bucky- I- I’m sorry-“

“Don’t.” He holds you firmly, almost. “I’m not tellin’ you cause I- I’m expecting anything-“

“Bucky-“

“But it’s… maddening.” Something wild flashes over his features. “I have lost my mind, night after night, lost sleep, lost appetite because there is only one thing I want to-“

He cuts himself off with a groan, and you realize you’ve leaned so far over him, your leg is pressing into his crotch. 

Where he’s harder than a rock. 

And when you’ve dreamed of this, it’s been grand. He chases after you in the rain, gets on his knees, and gives a long, romantic speech about everything he loves about you. How he’s tried to fight it, but he can’t, and he just needed to tell you. Once. Because if he never said it, he wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself. 

But this. The silence, as something passes between you. 

It’s better. 

It’s yours. 

“Yelena thinks you’re in love with me.” You say, because he’s crossed the line first, and now there’s no going back. 

Bucky’s jaw clenches. “Yelena…” He says slowly. “Has made a career out of watching people. And… Predicting how they will behave.”

“Oh.”

Bucky hums, his thumb drawing small circles on your wrist. “You call my name. In your sleep.”

“I- I do.” You say, so softly you almost can’t hear yourself. “I think of you all the time.”

Bucky nods slowly, looking back to your lips. His tongue does the move again. You shiver, leaning down until you’re pressed to his chest.

Your noses bump. Bucky looks back up you, raising his brows. 

You nod. Ghost your lips over his. 

Bucky grabs the back of your neck, and drags you down into a rough, deep kiss. His lips demanding but soft over yours, his arm wrapping around your lower back and dragging you close. His hips jerk up, as he pins you against him. You gasp, grabbing his shoulders to keep yourself upright. Your nails drag down the broad panes of his chest, and you fist at his shirt. Pull him closer with a moan, letting him press his tongue between your lips. 

You melt over Bucky’s body, the kiss becoming sloppy and wet. He tastes sweet from the soda and candy, with something a little more salty and purely Bucky beneath it. His metal hand slides up under your shirt, up your spine, and you arch into the touch. 

Moving you clothed pussy right over were he’s straining in his jeans. You start to grind down, chasing any friction, grabbing Bucky’s face and trying to pull him closer. He dips his face down, sucking a sensitive spot on your neck. You yank his hair, trying to drag him back up into you.

Bucky moans. Openly moans against your skin, slamming his hips up into you. You yelp, yanking again, and another, deeper moan rolls through his body. It vibrates in your chest, and you throw back your head, trying to gasp for air as he keeps rutting up into you. His warm hand grabs the back of your neck, forcing your gaze back down. You watch him under you, looking up with open hunger and adoration.

Watch his metal hand play with the band of your panties, cold fingers sending electric shivers through your body. You nod weakly. He smirks, and shoves his hand down. 

Your mouth falls open, as cold fingers find your clit. Tease is, with feather-light brushes, making you shake in Bucky’s arms. He’s pinned you against him, so your breasts are pressing into his face and his cock is resting right against your entrance through the cloth. He’s just watches you, chest heaving as you unravel so quickly. From just his teasing. 

“Bu- Bucky-“ You bite down a moan, trying to writhe into more friction. “More, please more-“

He hums. Spanks your clit, sending a sharp rush through your body. You almost scream, and Bucky pulls you back down into a bruising kiss. Swallowing the sound. 

“Gotta keep quiet.” He grunts against your lips. “I’ll give you anythin’, babydoll, just keep quiet f’ me.”

You nod, biting on his lower lip as he spanks your clit again. He chuckles, and you press further into him.

“You gonna be good?”

“Yes.” You breathe. “I need it, Bucky- I- I’ll-“

“Say it.” He grunts, pressing his thumb down harshly over your swollen nerves. “Say it for me, pretty girl, c’mon-“

“Good. I’ll be good,” tears are already starting to prick your eyes. “Bucky, please, I’ll be good-“

He kisses you again. This time is sweeter. You whine happily, and only realize he’s moving you onto your back when you’re fully settled in the cushions.

“I know you will be.” He mutters, kissing you again. “Keep quiet.”

You expect him to shove his fingers into you. Make you cum on his hand. 

But Bucky is a man of determination. Of taking things slow. 

He pulls your shirt over your head, then kisses his way down your body, lazy and smug. There isn’t a place his lips don’t find, that his fingers don’t caress. You try to buck your hips up, into him. His pins you back down, open mouth kissing your breasts. Swirling his tongue around your nipple, then going lower. 

And lower.

He drags down your shorts, sucking on your inner thigh. You wrap your legs around him, trying to pull his mouth were you want it, but he drags them back apart. Nips at the little bruise he’d formed, then kisses a little to the side. Further. Over the hood of your clit, then to your other inner thigh.

You yank his hair again, desperate. 

He grunts, and that might have been a mistake. Slow flies out the window. 

Bucky slams his face into your pussy, moaning against you and devouring you with such force you can feel it everywhere. Your hips fly up, but he holds you down. Keeps your legs spread, for his ministrations. His tongue works up and down your swollen lips, pressing flat on your clit before, making out with your dripping cunt. Your eyes roll back, your free hand scratching at the sheet. 

He starts to kitten lick your clit, and you almost fly off the couch. Your hand flies to your mouth, muffling your moan, and Bucky hums. 

Open mouth kisses your clit, and starts to work it faster. His beard rubs on your thighs, his tongue twisting into your pussy, and you think he’s trying to make you break. 

You breathe fast into your hand, grinding weakly to meet his mouth. You’re close. So close. You whimper his name into your hand, yanking on his hair so he keeps moaning against you, and-

Bucky stops. You scream, because you were right on the fucking edge and he stopped, why the fuck did he stop- 

“I said be quiet.” He mutters, crawling back over your body. “You’re lucky you look so pretty, all fuckin’ wrecked. Otherwise might have to teach you somethin’.”

Your eyes flutter, pussy clenching around nothing at the thought of Bucky teaching you something. His kisses you softly, though, and every hazy thought is chased from your head as you feel him.

Dragging up and down your pussy lips. Coating himself in your arousal, the tip catching on your aching entrance.

“Don’t have protection,” he grunts, and you shake your head. 

“I- I’m on the pill. You- Please-“ You spread your legs wide, and he groans.

“Doll, don’t just say that-“

“Want it.” You whisper, batting your lashes up at his tight face. “Want you to fill me up, James, please.”

You don’t know what makes you say it. You’ve never called him that before, and it just slipped past your lips. 

Bucky lets out a sharp breath, licking his lips. His voice becomes hoarse.

“Say that again.”

You swallow. “Please. James, please-“

Bucky crashes down, kissing you into the cushions as he slides in with one, smooth thrust. You almost scream again, and he keeps kissing you. You think his goal is to make you so breathless you can’t make any sound.

It’s working. 

“Oh- Fuck.” He whispers against your lips. “So damn tight, doll, you’re so- God-“

You clench around him, and he moans again. 

“Move.” You gasp into his mouth. He’s pressing right against your deepest, most sensitive spot without moving. You’re going to go insane. “Bucky, move-“

“Ah.” He kisses your neck, rutting into you. You bite down a squeak, as Bucky growls against your skin. “Try again.”

“James.” You breathe. “Move.”

He hums. “Hm. Relax for me, doll, you’re squeezin’ too-“

You go limp quickly, and Bucky blinks down at you. Chuckles, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Quiet.”

Then he starts to move. 

And this he doesn’t waste time on. There are two, slow, experimental thrusts. Then he nods to himself, rolls his hips, and starts to fuck you. Rough and proper, slamming up into your cervix with his balls slapping against your ass. You try to cover your mouth again, as the pleasure overwhelms you. Bucky grabs your wrist and drags it over your head, fucking you faster. Your fingers tangle together, and you squeeze him tight for dear life as he pounds into you like a man possessed. 

You couldn’t scream if you tried. You so lost in the daze of his cock, splitting you open, that all you can do is breathe. Soft pleas, and calls of his name. Bucky presses his brow to yours, and fucks you harder. His breath is hot over your lips, and he spits into your open mouth. 

That drags an open moan out of you, and your eyes meet his. 

No one’s ever looked at you like that. With such hunger and adoration. 

You flutter around him, tears springing into your eyes from the perfect pain. 

Bucky leans down and kisses you, so gentle for how he’s splitting you in half, thoroughly wrecking your pussy for anyone else. 

His free hand, the metal one, snakes between your bodies and finds your clit. Rubs it in fast, tight circles that keep time with his increasingly sloppy thrusts. The temperature difference makes your body seize up in shock and delight. 

Your orgasm slams into you, knocking any remaining air out of your lungs. Bucky moans again, fucking you through it, lewd and wet sounds filling the room.

He kisses you as his cock slams home, and you feel him paint your pussy white. You cling to his neck, tugging his hair, and his hips jerk as he mindlessly fucks it back into you. 

Slowly, your breathing both settles, even as Bucky remains deep inside of you. His face presses into your neck, and he takes deep, ragged breaths. You stare, glossy eyed and dazed at the ceiling. You’re going to need to hire five separate cleaning teams, for the room. Block it off until it’s been bleached and everything’s been replaced. You can’t risk someone turning over a cushion, and finding it… stained. 

You giggle, a little shocked and still floating in the pleasure. Bucky rises up over you, brushes the hair that’s stuck to your brow, and mutters your name. 

“You are…” He shakes his head, voice rough and quiet. “So beautiful.”

You flush, but smile at him. “You too-“

“No. I- That’s not what I’m sayin’.” He takes a deep, ragged breath. “You’re gorgeous. ‘Course you’re gorgeous. Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen-“

“And you’ve seen a lot.” You giggle. Bucky rolls his eyes. 

“Yes. I have. And-“ He grabs your chin, tipping it up. Forcing you and your dizzy smile to meet his gaze. “Nothin’ comes close to you, babydoll. Nothin’. Not like this,” he ruts against you, and you squeal. “Or like this.”

He drags your hand up, and places it over his heart. You stare up at him with wide eyes. Bucky squeezes your hand, offering you a small grin. 

“You got me,” he mutters his name. “Had me since you walked in, lookin’ like the best, sweetest kinda trouble in the world.”

You swallow, everything but Bucky turning to a blur. 

“Do I…” He takes a heavy breath. Leans down until your brows are pressed together. “Have you?”

You smile. 

Nobody has ever had you, so thoroughly. Where you say it, aloud. Where you feel it, outside of your chest and in the air all around you.

“Yeah.” You whisper. “You got me, Bucky. You got me.”

✦End note: When will i find love like this. plz tell me.✦ ✦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3✦ ✦Buy me a coffee!☕️✦ ✦Taglist (Fill out this form to be added!)✦

[mysharona1987]

This is why Donald Trump won’t hang around JD Vance anymore.

[peoplevsbirds]

Shot

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