description: Being an elementary teacher was harder than anyone really thought of. One kid was already a handful—with you growing up as an older sibling, so why bother teaching more than 20 kids everyday at the same time, right? Well, that could be said otherwise with your summer jam packed schedule of prepping study materials for 4th graders.
So when your grandma called you in to house sit for a few months while she was staying at your moms, you’ve never agreed with such enthusiasm in your life. After all, she lives in a quiet neighborhood with a very kind neighbor named Robby.
What your grandma fails to mention was how this specific neighbor always does nude yoga in the mornings.
tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn (three LENGTHY chapters), reader being done with life, Jack Abbott being down bad, eventual smut (ladies ladies, leave me alone type shift), p in v, way more nasty stuff but idk what to call it, very domestic if you squint, angst and fluff, mentions of mental health issues, it’s a bumpy ride but happy ending !!
I have returned from hibernation (former wattpadd author) to deliver the pitt content because I am OBSESSED. My Abbott and Whitaker obsession WILL be fed, along with my fellow truthers. Enjoy reading !!
description: Being an elementary teacher was harder than anyone really thought of. One kid was already a handful—with you growing up as an older sibling, so why bother teaching more than 20 kids everyday at the same time, right? Well, that could be said otherwise with your summer jam packed schedule of prepping study materials for 4th graders.
So when your grandma called you in to house sit for a few months while she was staying at your moms, you’ve never agreed with such enthusiasm in your life. After all, she lives in a quiet neighborhood with a very kind neighbor named Robby.
What your grandma fails to mention was how this specific neighbor always does nude yoga in the mornings.
tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn (three LENGTHY chapters), reader being done with life, Jack Abbott being down bad, eventual smut (ladies ladies, leave me alone type shift), p in v, way more nasty stuff but idk what to call it, very domestic if you squint, angst and fluff, mentions of mental health issues, it’s a bumpy ride but happy ending !!
I have returned from hibernation (former wattpadd author) to deliver the pitt content because I am OBSESSED. My Abbott and Whitaker obsession WILL be fed, along with my fellow truthers. Enjoy reading !!
Hey yall I just wanna let you guys know that updates will be very slow these next few months (im talking weeks) bc college !! And I want to post content where I like the output and ik yall would like it too. 💟
Trying out some concept art for my new rabbot series charting the different stages of their friendship/relationship. Hope to have the first instalment uploaded tomorrow! R x
Jack Abbott (or Dennis Whitaker) x Filipino Student Doctor! reader
Description: Having moved to Pittsburgh when you were 18 from the Philippines for college, your life drastically changed as you adjusted from two entirely different circumstances while pursuing medicine. You’re now an R3, working along with Mohan at PTMC, embracing a new family and new experiences as you complete your residency and pursuing your dream to be a Family Medicine doctor just like your Mother.
What happens when things get complicated between you and the night shift attending?
or
Is there something going on between you and Huckleberry?
Tags/warnings: Abit ooc since the reader is Filipino, some medical inaccuracies, gender neutral reader, abit suggestive, mentions of mental health, mentions of Jack's prosthesis, abit angsty but we vibing !!
A/N: Hey yall!! This has been a running thought ever since I found out that my filipina baddies are finally being represented in the healthcare system…so yes ofc I had the idea brewing!! Ofc everyone is welcome to read this and the only difference is the readers ethnicity, the rest is up to ur interpretation. Also this is a smau and a mix of written parts too so enjoy!!
If u wanna get tagged, make sure to comment or follow me and keep your notifications on since tags don't always work !! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!
Scenario: Reader who is a normal civilian that Jack matched with on tinder but he accidentally meets them firsthand in the ER because they have a heart condition hmm….
Tags/warnings: mentions of medical condition (heart problems), gender neutral reader, just fluff !!
Word Count: 809
Jack thought that this, like the others, would be a normal, grueling shift. Another one to deal with, another set of patients to get to, another day to survive without thinking of going on a sabbatical (Just Robby in a different font).
“Hey Jack, got a new patient on room 4, went here with complaints of chest pain.”
Jack nods, going to the room after reading the patient chart. He skims over the important details, noting that you've been here about 3 times these past few months on the day shift—and this was your first on nights.
Your name rings a bell to him, suddenly thinking about that tinder date he set up with someone he matched with when he downloaded it from a dare made by Shen last week.
It was a stupid, borderline unprofessional dare that almost got him and the rest of the nightshift crew on the HR waitlist, but luckily Shen took cover and Jack paid the price by following his request—which was to try tinder and go on a date with your first match.
And that match unfortunately had the same name as the patient he's about to go meet in room 4.
The door opens, and he's greeted by the sight of someone in their pajamas—pink ones that are covered with cat prints on them. He mentally chuckles at the drastic difference of color from the ER to your outfit.
“Good evening, Y/N. I'm Dr. Jack Abbott-”
He pauses for a few seconds, looking at your face. He then realizes that you were indeed the person he matched with on tinder—and that you were unfortunately about to meet him before your scheduled date.
And by the look on your face, he definitely realized how you knew it was him too.
He coughs to clear his throat (and thoughts), continuing and maintaining professionalism.
“-your doctor for tonight. It says here in your patient chart that you went here by yourself due to chest pains? When did this start?”
You nod and shift slightly on the bed, sitting down to at least bare some decency to save face. You were embarrassed to even rush in the ER at this hour, and you didn't expect to see your date as your doctor.
“I- yeah, I drove here since I don't usually get chest pains at this hour. I live alone so I decided to bring myself here instead.”
He notes the “at this hour.”
“So this must not be your first time?”
You nod, telling him your condition.
“I usually have my mom helping me out, but it's late at night so went here instead.”
He nods and reads the rest of your patient chart.
“Your condition is written here, along with the medicine you take. Have you taken it today?"
You nod.
“I did this morning. Thought it would cancel out my stuff since I went and did some strenuous activities with my friends this afternoon, but then I woke up with chest pains.”
He chuckles and sets down the chart, grabbing his stethoscope and begins the examination.
“Can you sit up for me? Thank you.”
You do as you're told, feeling his hands guide your shoulder and back as he listens to your heartbeat.
“Okay, now slowly breathe in for me—then out.”
“Relax, there's nothing to worry about.”
How do you even calm down when your doctor is unbelievably hot—and he's about to be your date this weekend? You just hope he doesn't cancel everything once this is all done.
The examination ends, and he grabs a pulse oximeter from the drawer beside you.
“This checks your pulse rate and oxygen saturation. I'll leave it here, then I'll ask for a nurse to check your vitals and order an EKG. I'll be back to check on you after.”
Nodding, you slowly ease up any tension left from you worrying about the entire situation.
“Uhm- Dr. Abbott?”
He stops before he opens the door and leaves, looking back at you with a small smile. He knows what you're about to ask, given how he's been observing your anxious expression the entire time.
“Need something, sweetheart?” The nickname rolls off his tongue naturally—like he's been using it all this time, crossing his arms as he looks at you entirely.
“I uh- I hope this isn't awkward. Are you going to cancel the date?”
He chuckles and holds the door, pausing for a moment before answering.
“Of course not. This just gives me another reason to see you again. Also, nice pajamas, I love cats.”
You look at him with a shocked expression as he waves and leaves the room.
In a way, you both really did look forward to that date—especially now with your unexpected encounter.
description: Being an elementary teacher was harder than anyone really thought of. One kid was already a handful—with you growing up as an older sibling, so why bother teaching more than 20 kids everyday at the same time, right? Well, that could be said otherwise with your summer jam packed schedule of prepping study materials for 4th graders.
So when your grandma called you in to house sit for a few months while she was staying at your moms, you’ve never agreed with such enthusiasm in your life. After all, she lives in a quiet neighborhood with a very kind neighbor named Robby.
What your grandma fails to mention was how this specific neighbor always does nude yoga in the mornings.
tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn (three LENGTHY chapters), reader being done with life, Jack Abbott being down bad, eventual smut (ladies ladies, leave me alone type shift), p in v, way more nasty stuff but idk what to call it, very domestic if you squint, angst and fluff, mentions of mental health issues, it’s a bumpy ride but happy ending !!
Word count: 4.8K
A/N: Hey yall….before the tomatoes start flying I just wanna preface that this was not on purpose. I am currently in the middle of fighting for my life (college enrollment season) and it is not looking good! I hope you all still appreciate this chapter though, love yall lots !! 🙏 ALSO yes the smut will be on chapter 3 so don’t worry yall…..it’s coming (literally) 😏
Keep in mind taglists won't always work, so please comment, keep your notifications on or follow me if you wanna be updated with new posts!
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You've never really believed in coincidences.
Sure, things happen in ways that you can't control—but most of the time you know people can mean the stuff they say and do.
That includes the dilemma you've been having these past few weeks, which continues to haunt you even in your dreams. Seriously, how can something this minor affect you this much?
Okay, maybe you do believe in coincidences.
Why? Because here are the things that have been bothering you since the start of April:
First week
–You've been greatly avoiding direct contact with Jack. It's not that you hate him—though sometimes you wish you did because it would've made things easier, but the sheer thought of facing him again and you utterly messing up a simple conversation would eat you alive.
You're attracted to him, and that already was a big, big problem for your heart, and for your poor conscience.
“Just need to water the plants and go inside.”
As if saying those words would convince you to not even think about looking straight at the house across you. This was your own personal hell in its own making, and staying here was getting more and more unbearable—makes you regret ever agreeing to such an arrangement.
The water hose turns on, and you start watering your grandma's small garden. The water flowing was quite strong and loud, perfect for canceling out your inner thoughts and that one voice yelling at you to stop-
“Wait, is there actually someone talki-”
If being an unlucky asshole was in your bucket list, you would've checked it by now. Everything moves in slow motion, with you seeing Jack walking towards you, yelling something along the lines of “Don't” and “Move away!”, it didn't really help though.
You were soaked, head to toe.
“The sprinkler got fixed this– morning…..”
Jack stops at the sidewalk before he himself gets wet. Your face was drenched, and you had the expression you'd normally see at a Halloween decoration display at Target. You were horrified, and rightfully so.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“The maintenance came by this morning and fixed the sprinklers your grandma installed. Guessing how you're not exactly dry, you weren't informed.”
Speechless was one way to put it. What do you even do when the one guy you're trying so greatly to avoid because you like him is now centimeters away from you, and he's staring at you directly while you're soaked. This was not your ideal setup.
“Yeah, I was not. They probably got lazy and didn't even ring the doorbell and just called grandma's phone instead.”
“Want me to help you out?-”
“No it's uh- it's fine, I just need to change, thanks.”
You were struggling to even comprehend the entire situation. This feels like an embarrassment ritual that high-school you experienced before, and is now unfortunately happening again. You refuse to even look at him directly, looking at your clothes that are wrapped on you like a skin tight outfit.
Rushing to bring the hose back and make a run inside the house, with you almost slipping on the damp grass. Before you get in, you notice something from the corner of your eye. Jack was staring at you, but it looked different. You shrug it off and close the door.
“I'm definitely going crazy.”
Second Week
–All you ever wanted was a quiet, peaceful summer experience while house sitting and doing your job. See? That's simple. But lately, the world hasn’t been kind to you, and you could tell your patience was growing thinner by the second.
Waking up early, you decided to be productive and jog through the neighborhood. There wasn’t much to do anyways, and honestly you needed a breather after what happened last week—or just the entire time you started staying here. You were honestly considering calling a spirit advisor to check the house because these unfortunate circumstances started being a common occurrence.
Going down the stairs, your left sock got caught on a loose nail, causing you to lose balance and tumble down—hitting your head on the edge of the railing and possibly earning a fracture on your knee or foot. There goes your morning plans.
“Fucking shit!–”
You struggle to stand, feeling numb and weak as your ears begin to ring. Your phone screen was cracked, but luckily it took everything out of you to grab it and call 911 to call for help.
“Hi, I- I need help. Fell down the stairs, can’t move.”
Speaking while fading in and out of consciousness was not an easy task. You managed to give your address before losing consciousness, and the last thing you remembered was how you probably look like a total idiot lying on the ground with cat pajamas on.
“Hello? Can you hear us?”
You feel a light shake on your shoulder. Where are you? Everything felt foggy, and you could barely move your arms and legs. Oh right, you fell down the stairs. You think it’s a good thing you remember what happened. As your mouth begins to move, you try to communicate with the paramedics.
“Am I inside an ambulance?”
“Patient conscious and responding. Yes, can you tell us your name and what exactly happened?”
“I- uh, my name is Y/N, I fell down the stairs. My sock got caught on a loose nail and I lost balance. Hit my head first thing on the ground.”
The paramedic nods, and tells the other one present to note everything that you were saying to them. Your vision still feels a little foggy, but luckily you could still talk. Though you don’t know if it made sense, but it seemed like they understood. You might actually consider that house blessing you’ve been seeing all over the internet, because right now it feels like it’s out to get you.
“We need you to stay awake and conscious. ETA 2 minutes.”
“Uhuh, I’m– I can stay awake.”
Before you even realize it, the ambulance stops and the doors open as they push the gurney with you in it inside the E.R. The bright light serves as a contrast to what you were used to seeing, so you squint and look away, and you immediately regret even moving an inch.
“Argh, ow!”
“Adult patient with a fall from a flight of stairs, presenting with a head laceration and suspected concussion; no loss of consciousness reported, currently alert and oriented with a GCS of 15. Patient is complaining of pain in the right hip/waist area and right knee, with possible fracture, both areas immobilized. Vitals remained stable en route, bleeding from the scalp has been controlled, and no other obvious injuries noted at this time.”
“Alright, thank you, I’ll take it from here.”
“You sure Jack? You’re about to clock out-”
“Yeah I’m good. Don’t sweat it.”
Despite the sudden pain, you can clearly hear the voices around you. Jack? it can’t be, are you currently in PTMC? As you contemplate on opening your eyes, the person pushing you into a room already starts speaking.
“Didn’t expect to see you here. Missed me this much?”
“‘M sorry….didn’t know they’d bring me here.”
He chuckles and orders the nurse to assess the physical injuries around you.
“No visible injuries, only slight bruising on the left arm, right rib, knee and leg.”
You continue to wince at the pain once the nurse starts to touch the parts that are bruised up. You give them your pain scale, and they tell you to relax. Jack gently checks the bleeding on your head, and you instinctively pull away, earning another “ow!” from you.
“I know it hurts, but we’ll give you something for the pain, okay? Princess I need a CT for their head and the rest. Need labs, and start the IV. I’ll clean this up and do the stitches.”
“Sorry, I just- not used to the hospital.”
Everything goes by in a blur. You don’t really remember falling asleep, let alone waking up inside a room. You make an attempt to move, feeling a little bit better than before—but you see the cast on your arm and leg. Great. Another problem you need to deal with for the sake of what? never getting better?
“Hey- don’t move too much, you’ll make it hurt more.”
You move your head on the right, and there you see him. The one man you’re actively avoiding, which you still continue to fail at. If you knew they’d bring you to PTMC, you would’ve walked yourself to a different E.R, just to avoid running into him. But of course, fate continues to fuck up every chance you get at getting away.
“Sorry. You don’t have to stay, I can just call my dad and-“
“No it’s fine. I already did. Told him what happened, and that I’d bring you home and check up on you while you’re getting better.”
“Right, emergency contact. I- I’m really sorry, this is really embarrassing.”
He laughs and brings his chair closer to the bed. The ambiance of the entire room starts to shift, and you begin to notice how secluded you two were. The room is cold, you could barely hear the people outside, and the lights weren’t turned on, and the only source was from the glass door, highlighting his figure from behind.
“Your CT results came back, luckily you only broke a few bones and no internal bleeding.”
“That means…?”
“You’ll be on bed rest for the first three days, and minimal movement for about two weeks. But in total, it’ll be a month before your cast gets removed.”
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. A month? What are you even gonna do with a month of just laying down? You have work to do, and you’re not about to start leaning onto him for favors, because the last thing you want is to see him everyday, in the vicinity of the house you’re living in, and having to constantly talk to him like you aren’t actively going insane.
“If you need help, just call or text me. I’ll give you my phone number.” He smiles and hands you your phone.
“I’d be too much of a bother, you should be home with your wife and kids- I mean if you have kids.”
There it was. You finally broke the dam that was holding everything in. Maybe the meds they gave you were still in your system, because you honestly didn’t expect to blurt it out so casually. Was it way too personal? Maybe, but you were at the point of no return, and If your dad found out that your hot neighbor was also the doctor you had been crushing on, you wouldn’t have heard the end of it.
“I….I’m widowed. Never had kids. But thank you for worrying.”
You moved your left hand to cover your mouth before you could even process it, wincing at the sudden pain. He instinctively reaches and holds both of your hands down, shaking his head and smiling.
“Oh my god I am so so sorry, that was rude of me to just suddenly blurt out, my condolences.”
You’ve never felt two contradicting emotions all at once before. Were you happy he was single? I mean yeah, but you felt bad for asking it, because clearly if he was still wearing the ring, he still hasn’t moved on, and you respected that—though, you can’t deny it did sting a little. But you did consider it, because maybe, just maybe, you could change his mind?
“It’s alright, I don’t mind telling people. It’s been years, and I’ve moved past it. I just wear the ring to pay my respects.”
There’s your answer.
He hands you back your phone after you’ve given it to him so he could place his number. You look and see his name with a wink emoji beside it.
“Here’s your crutches, I’ll help you walk to my car. Want anything to eat? I’ll pay for it.”
Third Week
–Over the course of the month, you and him have gotten closer. You’d like to thank the rather unfortunate first encounter you two had for bringing you two together, but the mental image of….that would start haunting you every time you saw him. The current setup wasn’t bad, but you can’t really say it was good either.
“Hey, easy with that. I’ll carry it instead.”
“Want me to go get those? It’s way too high for you to reach–no offense.”
“Let me help you get up, you’ll hurt yourself like that.”
“Need some help with cleaning those?”
It was hell. You gave in last week when you got home, gave him an extra set of keys so he could willingly come in and check up on you from time to time, but this—this was the equivalent of helicopter parenting. The first few days, he would come over once or twice to see how you were holding up. Then it stretched out to him staying over for a few hours, which he argues were for “safety purposes” and “in case you needed urgent help with something.”
He now practically lives here. His extra jacket was hanging on the coat rack, his outdoor shoes were in the shoe closet by the door, there’s also an extra set of crutches for him if he needs it by the extra closet downstairs (he was surprised when you weren’t phased by the whole amputated below the knee thing, where you expressed how you already knew when you saw him doing naked yoga), and the rest of his small stuff are now located all over the house. You even found his blue toothbrush by the extra bathroom downstairs. It wasn’t exactly a bad thing, but you’re worried he might be spending way too much time coddling you that he’d start complaining.
“No- no Jack, it’s fine. I can climb back up myself.”
“I told you to start sleeping down here, doctors orders remember?”
“And who exactly is the doctor?” You scoff and look back at him.
“Me.” He says back, smirking.
You don’t even get the chance to bite back from his logic before he lifts you down from the stairs, avoiding your cast and carrying you to the extended couch. He’d been adamant on you sleeping somewhere that’s more open so he could see you and tend to whatever you needed—be it another food request or a cramp from your broken leg that needs help.
“Stay here, I’ll go get some pillows and an extra foam bed so you can sleep here.”
“You’re so demanding, you know that?” You bite back.
“Yeah, I am. Stay put and be good for me, yeah?” He quickly replies, heading back upstairs.
His current routine hasn’t changed much, you just happened to join in. He still goes on for his morning exercise after work, a quick nap, then wakes you up to drink your medicine and prepare breakfast for the both of you. He also cooks up lunch, an early dinner, and even orders groceries if his schedule is too packed to go for grocery runs. Hell, he even helps you out with organizing your stuff since you insist on continuing to work with one hand, which earns a sigh and a smile from him.
You on the other end, have been nothing but nice and kind towards his acts of kindness—to which he still refuses to accept any form of payment from you.
“I just want you to get better.” He says while you watch him chop up vegetables in the kitchen, all while you sit by the dining table. This entire thing honestly felt domestic, but of course you would never say that out loud—let alone to him.
Ok yeah….he’s been going home straight to your house over the course of two weeks, and you had nothing to complain about except for the fact that you actually might like him. like, like him.
This feels like an abuse of power. Something that you’d read on fanfic websites as a kid and crush over how the man willingly takes care of you while you were sick. You felt bad for taking up so much of his time, that there would be times where you’d grow frustrated at your current condition and snap at him. But he always understood where you were coming from, and he always communicated everything well enough for you to feel better and you’d immediately apologize for your outburst.
“Thank you Jack.” You smile and look at him as you two sit on the couch while eating dinner with a sad cliche movie playing on the TV.
“What for?” He laughs.
“For this, for everything. I really appreciate how much you care, even though you didn’t really have to.”
“Don’t sweat it. We’re neighbors, plus we got to know each other better, wouldn’t you agree?”
Right. You two got closer, found out more about each other's lives, but that’s about it. You never really tried to initiate anything more than that, given your obvious predicament—but you’d hoped—even just for a little bit that maybe he did harbor some amount of feelings towards you. Feelings that go beyond being neighbors, or friends, or whatever it is you got going on between you two.
You mumble a “wished it was something more though” as you take a bite out of your food, subtle enough that you’re sure he doesn’t hear it.
“Did you say something?”
“Nothing.”
Present Day
–You’ve had the cast on for about 5 weeks now. Your leg feels a lot better, but Jack still advises you not to move around too much since it might reverse the healing process. He continues to visit, given how you still aren’t fully healed yet—which he argues that he should start sleeping over so you can contact him faster, and with you always saying no because it’s already unbearable to keep him around most of the day, what more if he was under the same roof as you?
The lines between being friends or more continues to blur between you two. He overstays his welcome, but makes up for it by spoiling you through any means possible. Groceries? paid for. Want some takeout? He’s got it. You see a cute jacket online and mention it once during a conversation? He already has it neatly packed on your table the next day. You’ve come to the conclusion that he simply cannot take no, or any sort of rejection as an answer, and that he finds you spending his money amusing.
“Sweetheart, there you are.”
Of course he has a nickname for you too. Not that you don’t mind, but recently he’s been frequently doing it on purpose.
He sits down beside you on the couch, taking off his prosthesis for a while to give his legs a break. You can tell he hasn’t even bothered to change his clothes, given how his scrubs are still on and it’s early in the morning—an hour after his shift ended.
“You okay? I’d offer you a massage but-“ You point at your cast on the other hand.
“not really ideal, doctor's orders.”
“You humor me, don’t you?” He lets out a small laugh.
“So, how’s work? still stressful?”
“You know me so well.”
The couch squeaks as he stands up and puts his prosthesis back, giving a quick stretch and yawn as he grabs his bag.
“Just wanted to check up on you before I do my routine. Don’t forget the dinner tonight. If you need my help, call me.”
You smile and wave as he heads to the door. “See you later, Jack.”
He smiles back. “Don’t be late sweetheart, I’ll be waiting.”
7PM
-To the best of your ability, you attempt to dress nicely for the dinner Jack invited you to in Robbys’ house. Sure, it’s not really that much of a big deal since the house is located in front of yours, but it wouldn’t hurt to actually try and make yourself look more presentable than what Jack is used to seeing. If you wanted him to notice you, then this was your best shot.
The entire thing was unexpected in the first place. You mentioned in passing a few days ago how you were craving some home cooked grilled streak because of something you saw on tiktok. Now, your big mistake was to mention this within earshot of Jack, because one moment he’s washing dishes, afterwards he’s sitting beside you, asking if you actually wanted one because he’d be more than willing to cook for you since he's off by the end of the week. In the spur of the moment, you agree, and that’s how you ended up in this situation.
Walking towards the house across, you knock on the door twice. You hear a “coming!” from the back of the door, and Jack opens it and greets you with a hug. You reciprocate it as he assists you towards the couch.
You take in the interior of the house. Very woodsy, something you’d expect from a guy who lives alone in their middle ages. Most of the places look untouched, like the vinyl stack beside the fireplace, and the cd player on the coffee table near the windows. One can assume that just like Jack that his friend, Robby, also rarely gets a decent amount of home time after shifts.
He sits you down and you take in how his polo shirt fits him just right, and that he’s wearing casual pants that somehow make him look more well rounded than before—and you’re sure he probably just threw those clothes in without thinking, unlike you who spent about an hour choosing what to wear.
“Wait here, I’ll start preparing the food. Have some wine in the meantime—not too much though, don’t want you getting tipsy while we eat.”
You grab the wine glass and pour some, giving it to him.
“You take the first sip then.”
“With pleasure.” He replies as he takes the glass from your hand, fingers touching that sends a shiver down your spine. He drinks it, maintaining eye contact.
“Keep yourself busy, I'll call you when it’s time to eat.”
You nod as he retreats back to the kitchen, then looking back at the wine he just drank. You can tell it’s expensive, from the look of the bottle itself and the color of the wine as you pour it into the same glass Jack used. It’s not embarrassing to use the same glass, you’re overthinking it—you think as you drink it in one go, relishing at how great it tastes from the moment it hits your tongue.
“‘m not drunk.”
“Well, you certainly aren’t sober.”
How is this even possible? you don't even remember drinking that much. You look at the half empty bottle on the table, and Jack in front of you, who’s currently holding back from laughing at how easy the wine was able to bring you from being quiet to a straight up blabbering mess.
“Y’know….you’re so handsome. Like, it’s not even funny.”
He chuckles and slowly helps you sit down on the couch properly. He mentally notes every word you’ve said tonight, enjoying the conversation.
“….I like you. Like, not as neighbors, like like you. You get me?”
He shouldn’t be this entertained, but he is. He’s felt the same way the moment he saw you when he knocked on your door to apologize for the entire nude yoga fiasco. Since then, he’s been trying to win you over with anything that he can—hence the entire grilled steak and wine invitation.
“Glad to know it’s not a one sided thing, but maybe let’s save that for another time, ok sweetheart?” He says, gently easing you off the couch so he could bring you home.
Before he could even stand, his phone rang on the table.
You didn’t mean to pry. I mean, who could be calling him at this hour? Maybe a good friend. Why are you even thinking about it?
Jack sees the contact and stands up, excusing himself to answer the call.
“….He sure is taking a lot of time. Must be important.”
You mutter to yourself. You’ve sobered up a little, slowly getting to your senses, suddenly being hyper aware that you’re alone with Jack, and you just confessed that you liked him, and that he also felt the same way.
Maybe a short walk would do you some good. You grab your crutches and stand, slowly heading towards the kitchen where Jack was talking with someone on the phone.
You didn’t mean to pry. You just wanted to tell him you’ll be taking your leave for the night, and that you’ll message him about what happened once you’ve actually sobered up.
But then you hear it. A woman's voice, and, Jack laughing.
“So, those drinks you’ve mentioned, is it still happening?”
“Of course, Baran. I’m a man of my word.”
“Let’s hope that it’s true then.”
Drinks? Baran? Was she a co-worker? Isn’t Jack off for a few days? So it’s probably not work related. You stood there, trying to make sense of whatever you just heard. Maybe if it was sober you who heard it, you’d be able to rationalize it. But you weren’t, and you’re definitely sure it’s someone he’s interested in.
Before you could even hear more of their conversation, you make your way to the door, suddenly feeling a wave of emotions creeping through your chest. Was it really a date? Were you seriously thinking that you were the only one he was talking to? Let alone the only girl he’d entertain?
It was stupid, and it felt stupid.
You fight the tears from falling before you reach the inside of your house, closing it as you rush to the couch to cry your heart out.
Jack comes back to the couch and notices that you’re gone. He calls out your name, thinking that you probably went to the bathroom, or hung out somewhere else inside the house. Then, he sees the front door slightly open.
He rushes out, then sees the lights in your house were turned on. Knocking on the door, he calls out your name.
No response.
Thinking that you probably fell asleep with the lights still on, he uses his spare key and opens the door.
The sniffles reach his ears first. Then, he sees your head on the couch. He goes near, gently making his way so as to not surprise you.
“Hey, I’m sorry if my call went too lo-”
“Go home.”
He stops. He knows when you’re actually hurt or annoyed by something—like that one time where he kept on changing the channel of the TV just to get a reaction out of you.
But this—this was something he knew was deeper than that.
“Did something happen? Sweetheart you can tell m-”
“Don’t call me that.”
Something happened.
“Okay, I won’t. Just tell me what happened.”
It was stupid, really. What are you supposed to even say? That you were eavesdropping on his conversation?
“…..I don’t wanna talk right now, Jack. Please just go home first.”
“Okay.”
You knew this was immature in more ways than one. You could’ve just asked who that was. You could’ve just confronted him when you could. But the gears won’t stop turning, and the thoughts won’t stop lingering. You promised yourself you’d tell him everything once you’re sober.
“....why aren't you leaving?”
“Because you're drunk and I want to stay. We'll talk in the morning okay? ‘M not forcing you.”
Somehow, through these past few weeks, he's learned to understand you more than anyone ever could. And that thought alone makes the tears fall more.
Jack gently holds your hand while he wipes off your tears with a gentle sweep, rubbing his thumb on your palm. He's kneeling, and you're sure it feels uncomfortable with his prosthesis.
“Before you comment, I can survive kneeling for a few hours. This is nothing. Just let me comfort you for now, okay honey?”
You sniffle and nod.
The evening stretches out with you two staring at each other, exchanging glances that speak a thousand words. Jack already knew what to do, and it was really a matter of time that you'd admit everything to him.
I just KNOW Shawn Hatosy was fighting for his life when he read the script for that last episode of The Pitt considering his hatred of avocados 😭 I guess that's the real reason he wasn't in it.
Description: When the ER gets too overwhelming—lights flickering, patients complaining, the swarm of student doctors and nurses running around, Jack feels relentless. For a man who is consistent with always being active, there are moments where he craves peace and comfort over getting shot or saving lives.
That's when he starts needing you.
Tags/warnings: None, just fluff, domestic reader and jack, u two are such lovebirds
Word count: 1.4k
A/N: This is just a short drabble requested here !! Thank u so much for your idea, ofc I had to bring it to life to the best of my ability. This was supposed to be short but my yearning brain got too carried away for the domestic life, so I hope the rest of u guys enjoy as well </3
You've always considered yourself to be more productive whenever you were alone.
You loved doing chores as a kid by yourself. You found comfort in doing things at your own pace because you believed that things are best appreciated when you do them of your own volition.
And now, you're living a quiet and beautiful life at a quaint house located in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania—along with your very hot and ambitious boyfriend Dr. Jack Abbott.
Luckily, overtime was more of a lesser option where you work, giving you more leverage whenever you decided to leave on time or stay for a while to catch up on some backlogs from work as an accountant.
You know your boyfriend leaves the house at exactly 5:30PM, and he always arrives at work by 6PM to help out before he officially clocks in for the night shift. It's been his consistent routine, and you find it adorable how he maintains a strict schedule whenever it's work related.
You've been in his workplace a few times, mostly to deliver his late dinner that he forgot in the fridge for the 5th time this month (which you think is an excuse so he can see you for a bit), and you don't mind it—except for the horrors you sometimes end up witnessing whenever new patients come in.
7PM
–Exhaustion seeps from your body, evident with your unhappy expression and paired with your eyebags that one day might actually grow bigger than your eyes.
“Jackie? You there?”
There are times where he chooses to stay past 6 just to see you before his shift, and as much as you want to say how you find this sweet and endearing (you always mentally prepare yourself for this), and although it's mostly only a few minutes past his usual schedule, you tell him not to because he might actually lose his job—he's an attending after all, you can't risk it.
Once you get no reply, you sigh back in relief. Taking off your shoes and coat, you decide to surprise your boyfriend before he gets home by tomorrow.
You cook up a simple meal, bathe, and watch some TV for a bit while you plan out your surprise. Ever since you two moved in together after a year of being in a relationship, you both rarely had any time off for one another, leaving you both with simple conversations in bed before you go to work in the morning.
As you reach for the remote, your phone buzzes and a message goes through.
Smiling at his messages, you stand up and head to your shared bedroom to rest for the night.
Next Day, 5AM
–The alarm blares at you loudly, waking you to your senses. The sun isn't out yet, and you usually wake up at 7AM with Jack already wrapped on you like a koala chilling in a tree.
You put on your slippers and start preparing a simple breakfast that you know he'll love.
Jack's POV
–Jack is a patient man. He considers himself a beacon of what it means to wait and receive the fruits of your hard work and labor. He was patient when his elderly patient took exactly twenty minutes to talk so he could conclude a differential diagnosis. He managed to wait for three hours when his car broke down and he called for tow services.
But recently, his patience was growing thin.
Maybe the workload of being a nightshift attending and a swat member was finally catching up to him—maybe his constant aversion to choosing stable and safe hobbies have finally made him go haywire on himself.
All he knows is that his only source of comfort is you. He still does hours of therapy, yeah—but it doesn't compare to even a fraction of a minute he spends with you.
Maybe it's because he finally found someone who truly made him feel like he's home.
Back then, he always tried his best to not stay inside his house for more than 4 hours. It's either he eats, showers, sleeps, then leaves again. He’s been in a constant, steady cycle that helps keep work up without needing to think, because it’s one thing to work and be tired—let alone be left with his own thoughts.
That cycle finally broke when he met you. He was afraid, given how now, he’s not alone. He has a different factor to consider in his head—another reason to wake up everyday and to do things that are quiet and mundane without fearing the thoughts that linger inside his head.
He sighs and grabs the final patient record to pass onto the day shift. He’s had a rough night, and all he wanted to do was spend this weekend resting in bed with the sheets tucked up with you and him resting in each other's warmth.
As he grabs his bag from the lockers, bidding goodbye with a quick hug and a “stay safe brother” from Robby, he walks to his car and drives home. He considers calling you or giving you a simple message, but hesitates on it as he knows you’ll most definitely wake up from it (you set your phone with a specific ringtone so you’ll know it’s him that’s calling).
Opening his phone, he chooses to just admire his lockscreen where it's a photo of you and him taking a selfie when he took you out on an aquarium date. He sighs and plays some tunes as he drives back home to you.
6:30 AM
–You hear Jack’s car pull up in the driveway, and just in time as the final batch of waffles and eggs have been cooked. You quickly dust yourself off with the clear mess you’ve made in the kitchen, and you’re certain he’ll notice the flour stains on your shirt first before the food on the table.
The doors open and he’s welcomed by the sweet aroma of waffles and syrup, along with the smell of coffee grounds in the kitchen. It’s unusual for him to get home and be greeted with such warmth, given how both of you have busy schedules that constantly overlap with one another.
“Good morning, Jackie.”
You peek at the side of the kitchen aisle, greeting him with a soft smile. He immediately forgets how tired and fatigued he was the moment he saw you, where he drops his bag on the couch and slowly walks into the kitchen to greet you good morning.
“Good morning honey, didn’t expect you to be awake at this hour. What’s the occasion?”
You laugh and wrap your arms around him, smiling as you give him a quick peck on the lips. This earns a smile from him as he holds you down your waist while you two look at each other fondly.
“Nothing! Just wanted us to have a good breakfast and spend time together. I know you’re off for the next three days, so I filed for my vacation leave to match yours.”
He looks at you with a surprised expression. He’d been way too busy to even remember his own schedule sometimes, yet you still knew. And that’s what made him fall for you before he even realized it. Sure it was kind of cliche, but it’s the small things that really held the standard for him, and it sure was the same for you.
You help him sit down, setting his prosthesis beside the table, earning a sigh of relief from him. You smile and hand him his morning coffee—black decaf, just how he likes it.
Quiet mornings like this remind the both of you how comfort is best appreciated with someone you love, and that home isn’t just a roof over your head.
re: the jack abbot grant riley role play fic idea you posted about
ever since the whole quinn thing started i've been picturing jack discovering the reader has the app on their phone and he records an audio for them to listen to while he's away at a conference or something (unsure if that was the direction but it feels like the same wavelength sorry if im overstepping) either way PLEASE WRITE THE FIC 🙏🙏🙏
OML TYSM ANON !! 🙂↕️
The original concept (based off the chats) was to make the reader form an unexpected liking in listening to audio erotica, more specifically from that one creator who sounds exactly like her boyfriend Jack Abbott. Bc of this, you usually listen to it to sleep and Jack ends up finding out about it, and they recreate the spicy scenes from it once he gets home from work. 😏
But thank u for tuning in and waiting for the fic !! I’ll most probably release it once chapter 2 of my official abbott series gets posted to maintain schedule ❤️
So, Hatosy’s “Yes, Chef” on Quinn came out, and people are instantly trying to pirate it.
Here’s the thing. Audio erotica is porn, right? We know the porn industry has a lot of exploitation within it, and services like Quinn, OnlyFans, that sort of thing allow people to have control and agency over the kind of material they make.
“There’s a huge catalogue of intimate scenes I’ve done over 25 or 30 years, and audiences have been taking that material and creating content. I don’t have any control over that. With Quinn, it gave me an opportunity to step into this space with intention, and help shape this kind of new media in a way where I can participate and feel like we’re building something meaningful together.”
Quote from The Hollywood Reporter interview he did on it.
Hatosy put himself in a very vulnerable position by making this with the express intention of having control over his sexuality and the way he is perceived. He has control over the narrative by putting it behind a paywall, and that consent is being violated by the audio being stripped and shared.
I’m not going to talk about the company because that’s not the point. The point is Hatosy doing this so he can know how it is seen, have autonomy over himself, and nearly instantly that is ignored by fans. That’s a very gross feeling as someone part of this fandom.
Yall PLEASE if you can't afford to support the company it's fine—it's better to have FOMO than to pirate something that your favorite actor worked so hard on. A little decency goes a long way.
