summary: you find your best friend dean at your doorstep – bloody and bruised, with a secret to share and a kiss or two
cw: angsty fluff.ᐟ very cute ending.ᐟ comfort.ᐟ friends to lovers trope.ᐟ teenage romance.ᐟ 00s era.ᐟ au with no monster.ᐟ pining.ᐟ love confession.ᐟ unrequited feelings [at least dean thinks so].ᐟ both dean & reader are 19 years old [not mentioned tho].ᐟ mention of blood and injury.ᐟ
word count: 2.5k
notes: not-so-fun fact, i was pre-dating an actual guy named liam which ended up breaking my heart so this is my fantasy revenge story teehee
masterlist | taglist | valentines masterlist
knock, knock, knock.
the pace of the knocks were faint and hesitant, your parents were out for a valentine’s day dinner and movies, leaving the house all to you for tonight.
this would’ve seemed like the perfect opportunity for a teenage girl to invite her boyfriend over, to watch some cheesy rom-com, maybe even fool around if you catch my drift.
but instead – you were crying your eyes out.
and why was that?
well, because of your boyfriend, oh sorry… ex-boyfriend – that decided to cheat on you a day before the big ol’ st.valentine’s day.
he even planned on taking you to a fancy restaurant for a date, but here you were, crying because of that cheating bastard.
knock, knock, knock.
someone knocked at the front door again, reminding themselves that they’re waiting by the door. the lights were on in the house so you couldn’t have even pretended that no one’s home.
what if it was him? your ex.
did he come here to apologise after realising what he’s done?
you paused ‘legally blonde’ on the vhs with the remote, putting it down on the couch and getting up with a sigh.
you weren’t in the mood to see him, so you planned on simply shutting the door on him whilst in the middle of his apology speech.
but as soon as you opened the door you were met with another boy, your best friend, dean winchester.
brown leather jacket, his classic green flannel shirt, grey henley, bootcut blue jeans and biker boots. and of course that bronze amulet of his that rested perfectly against his chest.
his side was to you, as if he was ready to leave since the door wasn’t answered for a while. assuming you wouldn’t open it.
you quickly wiped your tears with your sleeve, “d-dean? what are you doing here?” your voice was surprisingly soft despite the hours of sobbing.
dean slowly turned to face you, only to make you gasp out in shock.
his face all bruised and bloody.
“oh my god, what the hell happened?!” you instinctively stepped forward, delicately cupping his jaw with your small hands.
little did you know how much it made dean’s stomach flip. the proximity itself, your soft touch. god, he yearned for it all.
he cleared his throat to cover up the small groan of pain that tried escaping him, his jaw was already bruising up. a black eye was forming above his cheekbone, and his bottom lip was busted.
“get your ass inside winchester.” you tried to be adamant but you simply were too shaken up to sound anything but anxious and tired.
you tugged on the sleeve of his leather jacket and pulled him inside, closing the door behind you and locking it.
“sit on the couch, i’ll be right back with a med-kit.” you announced before disappearing into the kitchen for a brief moment.
you were friends with dean for the longest time, since kindergarten really. you two grew up together, plus his younger brother sammy who usually tagged along.
dean knew your house like the back of his hand, he’s been here plenty of times, for dinners, sleepovers, birthday parties, whatever reason – you name it. you guys were inseparable, until liam came along.
he strolled his way into the living room, looking around as if trying to memorise every little detail of your house. his eyes stopped at the paused movie on your console tv, smirking to himself. seemed like one of your chick-flicks, something he always teased you for liking.
but before he could throw a comment you re-entered the living room with the med-kit and a gel ice pack from the freezer.
he took off his leather jacket, throwing it on one of the arm rests of the couch before sitting down.
your eyes caught a glimpse of some blood stains on his flannel, “that blood yours or someone else’s?” you raised your brow, knowing that dean wasn’t the most innocent of young men, he got into trouble from time to time. usually for the right reasons like protecting the weaker. but still, a fight is a fight.
“liam’s..” he finally confessed.
you stopped in your tracks as you heard your ex’s name, your eyes darting from the med-kit up at dean.
“what?!” your brows frowned in confusion.
dean scratched the back of his head before looking you in the eye. he said nothing, but the look in his eyes told you everything.
“dean, did you get into a fight with liam?” the question came out much softer than he’d expected.
“will you still be mad if i told you he looks worse?” dean asked, almost with a smile.
all you did was sigh, taking some antiseptic spray and applying it to a cotton gauze. you moved closer to him to get a better look at it all, your knee unintentionally brushing his, but that’s all it took to make dean winchester’s heart race.
he swallowed hard, his emerald green eyes never leaving your pretty face, even after crying for most the day he still found you immensely breath taking.
“this will sting.” you warned him before gently dabbing his busted lip with the soaked gauze. it did sting, but he could endure it all day long if it meant that you took care of him like that.
the silence was deadening and uncomfortable, he knew you were upset, and he surely didn’t want to be on your bad side, he never has.
“that son of a bitch got what he deserved..” dean broke the silence, his voice incredibly soft when speaking to you.
“don’t say that..” you shook your head, pulling away slightly to look him in the eyes.
“y/n, he cheated on you, he broke your heart.” dean defended his point, his eyes locked on yours.
“so what?”
“so i broke his nose.” he shrugged, not regretting his actions one bit.
“jesus christ dean…you had to break the guys nose on valentine’s day?” you pitched the bridge of your nose.
“he was taking ashley to the restaurant you were meant to go.” his voice darkened at the thought of your ex. he never liked the guy but now he definitely hates his guts.
liam had the privilege to date you and he had the audacity to cheat on you? dean was not gonna be sorry for hurting him.
your heart broke at the information, your eyes watering as you looked down. “…oh.” was the only thing that you mustered to say.
dean noticed the tears forming in your eyes and he hated himself for not being able to do more for you, to take the pain away once and for all.
“hey.. come on, that dick doesn’t deserve a single tear of yours.” he reached his hand out taking your small one in his, gently tightening around yours and shaking it.
you wiped your tears with your sleeve, your eyes puffy and red from crying so much, “i know, i know… but i can’t help it.. i feel so stupid.”
“you’re not stupid.” dean’s eyes softened further, his other hand automatically reaching out for yours and now holding both, his thumbs brushing gently against your knuckles. “if anyone is stupid here, it’s liam.”
“he doesn’t know what he’s lost.” he tilted his head slightly in the hopes that you’ll understand that you’ve lost nothing, it’s liam that has lost.
“now you’re just trying to make me feel better by sugarcoating stuff.” you pouted softly, not really sure of yourself.
“no.” dean shook his head.
“you’re an amazing person with a heart of gold, an infectious laugh and a beautiful smile that i can’t look away from..” he spoke about you with such softness, you couldn’t help but just look into his emerald eyes, adoring your best friend.
“your presence is a blessing.. and liam is a complete idiot for not appreciating that privilege.” his brows frowned at the thought of liam hurting you so badly. dean would never do such a thing if he dated you.
without another word, dean pulled you into a tight comforting hug. the faint scent of his woody cologne tickled your nose as you buried your face in his chest.
the sweet smell of your shampoo blessed his senses, his hand thoughtlessly going into your hair and petting the back of your head with gentleness.
both of you stayed like this for a long second, soaking up each others energy, soft breaths, steady heartbeats.
it felt so natural. you missed this, he missed this.
after a moment you slowly pulled away, but only a few inches away, way too close to be a friendly distance though.
your eyes locked on his before stealing a not so subtle glance at his plump lips. dean noticed, obviously, and his eyes dilated, heart rate rising slightly.
then something happened. it was as if both of you heard the same little voice telling you to do it.
so you did.
you closed the distance by locking lips. slow and delicate, yet with a hint of need. one of your hands going to his chest and the other cupping his jaw, meanwhile his hands gently held your waist, as if he was afraid of scaring you away.
his lips were so so soft and plump despite them being busted after the fight. yours tasted like fruity chapstick, which was so addicting, and even better than he imagined.
but what the hell were you doing kissing your best friend?! although it did not feel wrong, why? did your heart secretly belong with his? all this time you were chasing the wrong guys?
as your brain caught up with the rest of your body, you realised what you’ve done, making you pull away abruptly with wide eyes, covering your lips with your fingers.
“i- i’m so sorry..” you panicked, assuming you force yourself on him and he just kissed back out of pity or something.
the guilt ridden expression on your face made dean’s heart ache, seeing how distressed you suddenly were, he had to step in.
he gently took your hands in his, stopping you from pulling away from him. his green eyes warmly gazing into yours.
“don’t be… please..” his voice came out more desperate than he anticipated. meanwhile you were utterly confused and painfully clueless.
“w-what..?” your were dumbfounded.
dean swallowed, the wheels in his brain turning and analysing, should he explain? confess? he looked down at how small your hands looked in his big ones and couldn’t hide the smile that slowly crept at the corner of his lips.
he sighed and looked you in the eyes, “…i-uh..” his voice shook with nerves, anxiety and doubt creeping up on him.
“..i think i’m in love with you..” dean finally threw it out of his system.
his confession sounded like a joke, a cruel one, but nonetheless a joke. your first reaction was to let out a nervous chuckle, tilting your head to the side like a questioning little puppy.
“w-wait what? is this.. a joke?” you honestly didn’t know what would be the better answer, you loved dean, definitely more than just a friend, and differently than a brother. but you simply kept pushing away those feelings due to you not wanting to ruin a decade long friendship.
dean wetted his lips with his tongue, his mouth feeling suddenly dry. every fibre in his body telling him to abort before he gets his heart broken and loses his best friend.
but the little voice inside him told him to be honest and brave, so he tried.
“no.. no it’s not.” he assured, trying to keep his voice calm and collected, but deep inside he was afraid of rejection.
you gulped down your shock, you opened your mouth to say something – anything, but nothing seemed to come out.
dean nodded, clicking his tongue. “i see..” his heart felt like it was ripping itself apart on the spot. his hands letting go of yours as he was getting ready to leave, to flee this embarrassing scene. he grabbed his jacket and slipped it on.
you noticed the defeated demeanour of his and you knew you had to act quickly and act now.
so you jumped up from the couch and grabbed a hold of his hand, well, you tried. only managing to grab a hold of his three fingers.
such a small gesture yet it made his heart do flips inside his ribcage, you managed to get his attention, stopping him in his tracks as he was getting away before you could open up and confess your own feelings.
you didn’t know what to say, you had just broken up with your ex and thought that throwing an ‘i love you’ would be too corny at the moment.
so what did you do?
you took a step closer, grabbed him by the bloody flannel and pulled him in for a kiss.
this time the kiss was with less fear, less doubt and less confusion. i mean for gods sake he liked you, you liked him, so why go against two hearts that were clearly meant to be together.
dean was taken aback by this kiss, but he quickly recovered by pulling you in against his chest and kissing you back.
this time he’s spilling all his feelings that he had kept locked away deep inside himself, you could feel the raw emotion in every of his touch, in every second passing. it simply radiated from him.
but you had to breathe, only pulling away enough to rest your forehead against his, nose tips touching.
“dean, i think i’m in love with you too.” you finally confessed, earning a smile of relief from him. dean’s hands came up to cup your face before showering you with soft and slow pecks on the lips.
you just couldn’t help but smile, no guy has made you smile like this in a while.
dean eventually stepped back a bit, his eyes sparkling with joy and love and everything nice that he hadn’t felt in god knows how long.
he cleared his throat before speaking up, “i know it’s no fancy restaurant but.. since it’s still valentine’s day.. would you wanna go to that 50s diner everyones talking bout? ..my treat?”
“dean winchester, are you asking me out on a date?” you teased him.
“..i- uh..” he choked up.
“i’d love to, but under two conditions.” you grinned.
dean raised a brow, waiting for your conditions. at this point he’ll agree to anything as long as he got to be close to you.
“will you be my bloody valentine?” you asked him, looking at his blood stained henley and flannel before gazing back up at him.
your question made him chuckle, shyly looking down at the ground for a second. “only if you’ll be my puffy eyed one?” he teased you back.
you scoffed out a laugh, mumbling “shut up.” and gently wiping your eyes.
“and the second condition?” dean grinned, bathing in the victory of making you all cute and flustered.
“you let me finish cleaning your face up.” you added.
dean pretended to think it through before answering, “deal.” he smiled, taking his jacket off again and sitting back down in the couch.
and so it turned out, that the universe had to push liam out of your life, in order to make more space for dean.
💘 happy valentine’s day – love yall so much ! ! !
and as always – thank you my lovely for taking ur time to check out my work, it means the world to me <3
cw: 18+ smut.ᐟ hunter x prey kink.ᐟ hide & seek.ᐟ mask kink.ᐟ hair pulling.ᐟ rough man handling.ᐟ kinda eiffel tower position.ᐟ cum on face.ᐟ threesome [if you don’t like the idea of them both doing you don’t read].ᐟ mild knife play.ᐟ humiliation.ᐟ lots of degrading and name calling.ᐟ unprotected p n v [don’t be silly guys].ᐟ creampie.ᐟ
word count: 3.4k
“three, two, one… run.” the lights went out, leaving only the dim red emergency lighting and sam’s low voice bouncing off the bunker walls.
you ran, like your life depended on it.
the rules were simple – you hide, they seek.
but once they do find you, they get to do whatever they please with you. you weren’t going to make it easy for them, just like they asked. and they definitely weren’t going to be soft on you.
this was a thrilling game that had only one ending, you getting your holes stuffed with the winchesters.
oh and let’s not forget the fact that both sam and dean have a knife at their disposal while wearing a ghostface mask and cloak during this twisted little game of hide and seek.
you managed to find a decently good hiding spot before they finished counting. under your bed – classic yet painful obvious.
you were honestly hoping that they weren’t gonna start with the obvious hiding spots, you know, the whole reverse psychology thing.
you laid flat on your stomach under your bed, hand over your mouth so that your breathing wasn’t the thing that gave you away, although you fear that wasn’t what’s the give away, your heart rang in your ears, feeling like it was away to jump out your chest.
was it because of running? sure. but fear and arousal had a play in it too.
“come out come out wherever you are” you heard sam’s taunting voice echo through the hallway, he was close. of course he was, you wouldn’t be surprised if he cheated.
the question now is, did they split up or team up? guess it’s for you to find out.
your bedroom door swung open with a big thud as sam’s biker boots kicked it open, you let out an involuntary gasp from the sudden scare.
unluckily for you – sammy heard. a smirk grew behind his mask.
you heard his footsteps, heavy and deliberately slow, making your heart beat increase even more. you seriously thought it was that loud that everyone could hear it.
the knife he was holding, scrapped against the concrete wall of your room, making you aware of it’s presence.
you watched as the pair of boots stepped closer to the bed, you knew you were fucked, but still, you had the fight in you.
like sam and dean wanted, don’t make it easy for them to catch you.
and you weren’t planning on it.
the big black boots stopped at the foot of the bed, a sudden silence falling in the room. you covered your mouth to mute yourself, but sam could already smell the strong feminine perfume that gave you away.
“thought we all agreed to make this game interesting, but you’re just making it too damn easy for us” sam chuckled in a sinister way before you suddenly felt both your ankles being grabbed by big strong hands, then got pulled out from under the bed, you couldn’t help but let out a scream trying to grab onto the bed leg but sam was too fast.
you thrashed around before turning onto your back to face him, the ghostface mask looking much more scarier in the dull red light than you expected.
your instincts kicked in and so did your legs, landing a couple of shots to his abdomen, which made sam stumble back into your desk, pens and papers falling to the floor, you gave yourself just enough time to get up and bolt out the door.
as you ran through one of the long hallways of the bunker, you noticed just how loud of a noise your shoes were making, which gave you a disadvantage.
so you stopped for a second, throwing them off your feet, along with your socks, leaving you completely barefoot. the cold concrete floor waking up a new sensation in you.
you heard sam’s heavy footsteps getting closer, very quickly. he was running, which meant you had a better chance at hiding than outrunning him. without much thought you started running the opposite direction from where your room was.
as you were away to turn left on the corner, you bumped into dean’s tall and broad figure, ghostface mask, black cloak and a knife in his hand. it’s shouldn’t be turning you on, but by god it did.
it didn’t take even a second for him to grab a hold of you, his deep chuckle vibrating against your back.
“come on now little one. we don’t wanna hurt you” dean cooed into your ear.
you squirmed around in his tight grasp, grunting softly when he tightened his grip. your brain told you to bite – so you did.
after all you weren’t supposed to make it easy for them, remember?
you sank your teeth into his arm, which made him drop his knife and shout in pain. “auh you bitch!” dean growled, his grip loosening for a split second which you used to your advantage.
slipping yourself loose and sprinting down the hallway as he was too occupied cussing under his breath.
sam caught up to dean, “what happened?”
“the little brat bit me” dean massaged his arm.
sam chuckled out. “clever little minx”
“shut up and get her” dean barked, then both the predators started chasing you, the prey, down the hallway.
your footsteps were much quieter now without shoes but sadly it didn’t help with running any faster. you could feel them both catching up to you and you panicked.
running into the kitchen which didn’t exactly have any good hiding spots, only an entrance and an exit door.
you were out of breath, your heart felt like it was away to stop any minute and to your misfortune, sam stood at the entrance door and dean blocked the exit door.
leaving you completely cornered, like a little bunny that’s hunted by big hungry wolves. both of them wearing masks that covered their faces, but you could feel their smirks radiating from beneath.
“give it up sweetheart, you’re cornered. you have nowhere to run-“ sam spoke, satisfaction in his low voice.
“-nowhere to hide.” dean added.
your legs went weak, cotton like.
you leaned against the sink, trying to keep them both at the same distance. your brain was going through all the possibilities of running away, fighting even.
you looked around to notice a clean pan that was on the drying rack, you had a lightbulb moment.
you grabbed the pan and planned on using it against them as a weapon, will it work? you didn’t know, but you had to try.
“and what are you gonna do with that? fry some eggs?” dean mocked, stepping closer to you, with that slow predatory step.
sam followed his older brother’s actions, doing the same.
you felt as if like the walls were closing in on you, your eyes jumping from one winchester to another. “get back!” you warned, swinging the pan back and forth.
fortunately for you, you landed a good hit on sam. the pan making a massive bang sound. sam let out a groan and curled up a bit, holding his abdomen. “i’ve had it up to here with you, you little-!”
you threw the pan at dean and took the gamble, pushing past sam’s broad body, aiming for the entrance door that he was blocking literally a second ago.
“not so fast, little mouse” dean growled from behind you, gripping you by your hair and pulling you back.
you let out a yelp, falling onto your ass. “n-no!!” your body tried to fight him, tried to crawl away but the grip on your hair was harsh, his fingers deep in your curls, he wasn’t afraid to yank them.
dean chuckled lowly, waiting for sam to straighten out and join his side, while you were struggling like a mouse caught in a glue trap.
dean gave sam a quick head tilt, a silent signal to follow him.
dean walked out the kitchen first, his fingers never leaving your hair, he dragged you by your hair, manhandling you like a goddamn savage.
you let out soft whines, trying to hold onto his wrist so it wouldn’t hurt so much. sam followed behind, keeping an eye on you, giving you unlikely chances of getting away now.
the three of you eventually reached your bedroom door, but once the three of you stepped afoot inside, you were fucked.
literally and figuratively.
“it’s game over sweetheart, no more running” dean explained.
“or you will have extra consequences” sam added.
and with that, dean dragged you inside and sam locked the door behind.
you were locked in one room with these two scary and heartless hunters. with sam having no soul and dean being a demon, their level of empathy was basically the same – which was zero. nil. nada. absolutely none whatsoever.
you crawled backwards as both of them stood above you, your back hitting the foot of the bed. you breathing uneven, you did not know what to expect from them now, and that made you feel very uneasy.
both sam and dean looked down at you with their masks still on, knives still in their hands. you didn’t know whether to get wet or pee yourself right there on the spot.
“what do you think we should do with her first sammy?” dean asked his younger brother.
sam chuckled at the idea that popped into his head, “i think her face needs a bit of color, don’t you? thinking.. white” dean smirked at his brothers answer, you on the other hand did not understand the cryptic tone.
“that’s a perfect idea, little brother” dean commented, already starting to unbuckle his belt.
your puppy eyes went wide in shock, seeing both of them unbuckling their leather belts. something deep inside you was screaming, butterflies erupting in your tummy.
the sound of the metal clinking was enough to make you wet.
“on your knees” sam ordered, but you were heavily hesitating. a little scared even.
“he said, on your knees. slut” dean barked as he noticed you not listening to his brother.
you weren’t going to lie, his tone made you jump, lowkey afraid. you got on your knees, not wanting them to get mad or anything, punishment from them would be diabolical, to say the least.
“there we go, that wasn’t so hard to do now was it? or is our little cum guzzler simply deaf?” dean cooed, taking out his already hard cock out his black cargo pants and pumping himself a couple times in front of your face, a juicy vein decorating his shaft.
you looked sam’s way, noticing him pulling out his cock too, his cock longer but not as thick as his brother’s.
both equally pretty and yummy looking though.
“from what i recall you’re a big fan of double cream and all that, so let’s see how well you can handle this type” sam spoke cockily, stroking himself off in front of your face.
both men stood inches away from you, you knelt in front of them, your face at their crotch level so you got to see all the details. from their flushed tips and the pulsing veins to their pearly precum dripping down their piss slits.
you felt nothing short of a whore, a sex toy of theirs to play with as they wish. it felt demeaning, embarrassing, degrading, humiliating – but at the same time you could not help but get turned on by watching those two huge guys jerking off in front of you like that.
both sam and dean’s breathing got heavier, your eyes blown out as you switched your stare from one cock to another, and all you could do is just kneel there on your knees with puppy eyes.
“open your mouth” dean hissed through gritted teeth.
your eyes looked up at him, that ghostface mask staring back at you. you didn’t dare to disobey dean, his short temper scared you and you wouldn’t want him to throat fuck you just to prove a point, so you opened your mouth nice and wide.
and just like that he stuck the tip of his cock in your mouth, “suck.” he ordered, leaving no space for ‘but’s.
you flicked your tongue over his tip before taking more of him in your mouth, humming a soft moan that sent vibrations down his spine.
you looked up at him, with your mouth full of his cock, dean couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at the sultry view in front of him.
his hand went into your hair, guiding your head up and down his cock before forcefully pulling you away, your mouth making a pop sound, a string of saliva joining at the corner of your mouth and his cock.
you looked at him with lustful puppy eyes, slightly embarrassed at how much this was turning you on.
sam tapped your cheek with his cock, “my turn, open up.”
your gaze shifted to the younger winchester, opening your mouth to let his cock slide into your mouth. “so fuckin eager” he chuckled lowly.
meanwhile dean continued jerking himself off watching his brother make you take his inches. “i know right? told you she’s a cumslut” dean grunted, feeling himself getting closer, but his hand kept a steady pace.
sam’s hand held the back of your head, pushing your head down making you gag on his cock, tears welled up in your eyes and drool dripped down your chin.
“she may be a cumslut but she definitely gags like a fucking beginner” sam laughed, mockery in his voice as his hips moved forwards, you tried to breathe through your nose but couldn’t help letting out a choked whimper.
sam suddenly pulled out, feeling himself on the edge.
both the brothers pumped themselves quicker, their cocks practically touching your face.
“tongue out.” dean ordered, you could hear both of them softly panting under their masks.
you stuck your tongue out, your eyes dark and blown out, darting from one cock to the other, ready to taste them.
one after another, their cocks shot out hot sticky semen, covering your pretty little face. sam and dean pumped themselves dry onto your face, admiring the filthy view in front of them – your lips, tongue, cheeks and even your forehead covered with their dna.
you managed to lick the cum off your lips before the rest dripped down your face and neck.
“bet that was better than those oreos you eat” dean chuckled, his cock still hard in his hand.
so was sam’s.
of course this wasn’t the end of it – you would be stupid to think that.
both of them took their masks off, having enough of wearing it. both their hair messy in their own unique ways. dean pushed a hand through his hair.
“aww look at those tear stains, such a poor little thing~ drooling, covered in cum” sam gently petted your head, smiling softly with his signature puppy stare.
you were gullible enough to believe he was gonna be gentle now, but to your surprise he grabbed you by your hair and lifted you up like you were just a toy.
“up up up.” his voice filled with faux friendliness, you had no choice but to get up from your knees with the way he was pulling on your hair.
“on the bed, all fours. we are not finished with you yet” sam commanded, basically throwing you onto your own bed, and standing in front of you with his cock still up right, in front of your face.
dean walked over to the back of you, his hands already on your ass, strong fingers tearing your fishnets open at the crotch and ripping your panties with it. you gasped at dean’s strength, or more like that fact he didn’t even need to use much of it.
your pussy now fully exposed, glistening and dripping from how aroused you were. dean let out a low wolf whistle, “well i’ll be damned, you’re fuckin dripping wet… pathetic little thing is clearly enjoying herself” he let out a gravelly chuckle, his thumb sliding up and down your slick slit, making you squirm under his touch.
“so wet” dean chuckled, amused at just how wet you actually were already.
your mouth agape, a soft moan haunting your lips. your back arched slightly, seeking more of the feeling, but dean pulled away in an instant when he noticed you doing so, i mean what do you expect from a mean fucker like him?
you looked up at sam, your eyes meeting his dark, empathy lacking ones. his stiff cock at your eye level, “open up.” sam commanded, tapping the tip of his cock on your lips.
dean wasted no time whatsoever and pushed his cock inside you, inch by inch. his thick cock sliding in with ease and stretching you out, making you open your mouth and let out a strangled moan.
sam took that opportunity and shoved his cock half way down your throat, making you choke on him as he without a second thought started thrusting in and out your mouth, holding you by your hair, his grip harsh. “that’s a girl~“ he faux praised, the mocking tone never leaving him.
dean’s big calloused hands gripped your asscheeks and started thrusting his length in and out, in and out. your pussy making squelching sounds every time he pushed his cock deep inside you, filling you up to the brim.
“so full of cock, but i can feel just how much you’re into it you little freak, clenching that pussy tightly around my cock- you can’t fool us sweetheart” dean chuckled, increasing the speed of his hips, pulling out nearly all the way before slamming back in, balls deep, impaling you on both the cocks.
your pussy did indeed clench around him, subliminally wanting to milk him dry, for him to empty himself inside you. “jesus fuckin christ, what a tight little thing you are, gotta start stretching you out more often.” dean grunted in between thrusts.
both the winchester’s worked on you from both ends, it was almost overwhelming so you let them use you the way they wanted. you let out muffled moans as the two of them sped up their movements, chasing their highs.
a creamy ring formed around the base of dean’s cock, all thanks to you shamefully being into this, into being used and stuffed by them both.
both sam and dean let out grunts and strangled growls as they got close, unconsciously competing with each other to see who gets to fill you up with their seed first.
the way your throat clenched as you gagged continuously on sam’s big cock, stimulated his tip. sam threw his head back, letting out a moan as his cock spewed out thick ropes of white.
your mouth flooded with drool and his cum, tears and cum dripping down your face as he pulled out his cock.
“swallow.” sam growled, his fingers still deep in your hair, you wouldn’t dare to do other wise, swallowing his seed right in front of him and sticking your tongue out for proof.
“very good.” his other hand tapped your cheek harshly in a degrading manner.
dean on the other hand was hanging on by a thread, your pussy eagerly swallowing his cock each time he pushed deep inside you, his tip kissing your cervix.
he gave you a couple sudden spanks on the ass before finally giving you his seed, shooting his hot cum deep in your womb.
as he pulled out slowly, his pearly white cum dripped out your hole, down your thighs and onto your bedsheets.
“now that’s what i call double-stuffed, ain’t that right sammy?” dean laughed, collecting some of his cum onto his finger and pushing it back inside you, making you cry out a moan.
“just how she likes it.” sam added, smirking down at you, brushing his thumb against your plump bottom lip.
for a long second, the three of you try to catch your breaths.
until sam lifted his head up, looking at his older brother. “switch?” sam asked casually.
“now that’s what i’m talkin ‘bout” dean chuckled, rubbing his hands together before getting off the bed and switching sides with sam.
this was going to be a very long and messy night.
but a deal is a deal – you fought well during the twisted kids game of hide and seek, but in the end you lost.
and losers take their punishment like champs.
thank you so much for reading it literally means the world to me! believe it or not, this piece of writing took me a couple months to finalise so i am so happy yall can finally see it, i am defo proud of this baby!
summary: now with a baby on the way, you and jack have reconciled and are learning to fall back in love again; when you show up at the ptmc with suddenly severe symptoms that threaten to take you away from him, he proves to you and himself that he'll do anything to keep you here. (6k)
characters: jack abbot / fem!wife!reader, michael robinavitch, the night shift attendings aka the night crawlers™
content: part two to this fic, established relationship, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, cw for medical inaccuracies (everything is for plot convenience atp lol), medical procedures, heavy mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy complications, kinda really sad but it gets happy in the end i promise, smut 18+ (MDNI): pregnant sex, shower sex, in jack's shower chair bc yeah :P
FIC #1 / 20 FOR 20
( NAVIGATION ) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( AO3 )
Jack Abbot had changed for you in many ways since the day you nearly left him. He seemed to grow alongside your round stomach, surpassing his own emotional milestones while your baby passed its physical ones. (The fetus was roughly the size of a strawberry when Jack finally decided to stop getting shot at for fun as a SWAT physician.)
He was, admittedly, a man carved out of sharp edges. You knew this long before you ever married him. He was fashioned from constant urgency, snap decisions, and a heartbeat that never quite slowed down. He didn’t let quiet exist — not inside his own head, and certainly not inside his own house. The faint crackle of his police scanner always bled gently down the hall, as low voices report chaos from somewhere else; which always meant that he was somewhere else.
If there was ever silence in your shared home, it only meant that something was horribly wrong — that Jack was gone or that you were; that something terrible needed fixing at the PTMC, or that your own world had slipped slightly off its axis. But then you found out that you were pregnant, while divorce papers still idled on the coffee table back home, and Jack learned quickly how to stay.
He removed the scanner from his nightstand. He ended his days as a TEMS provider and learned what it meant to take a real day off. He realized that he didn’t have to spend his mornings memorizing you before running into a burning building, because you’d still be there when the fire died out; he just needed to learn to stop running all the goddamn time.
Now, the silence in your home feels softer than it used to. Changed, almost. Filled not by a strangling tension of what once felt like an inevitable end, but rather by the steady hiss of running water and panted breaths as heavy as the steam swirling between you.
Jack slouches in his shower chair to accommodate your round stomach as you straddle his lap, bracing your hands on his freckled shoulders. His heavy eyes are clouded with a mixture of desire and worry as they dart between your face and the half-hard cock he holds in his fist.
“You sure about this?” he wonders through panted breaths, which make his flushed chest rise and fall at an uneven pace beneath you.
You exhale hard through your nose, annoyed in a flicker. “Are you gonna ask me that the entire time, or…?”
“I just don’t want you to hurt yourself,” Jack hums, lip quirking into a distant half-smile, ‘cause he loves how easily grumpy you get. “That’s all…”
You flash him a glower, and only slightly melt under his touch when his calloused hands trail up your waist and over your back, skin slick from the warm water rushing from the mounted faucet behind you.
“I’ve been hurting all day— This is the only way to not hurt.”
Jack melts for you instantly. ‘Cause he’s been worried about you all day, in truth, unable to find the root of your sudden headaches and stomach pain. He’s been checking your blood pressure every hour since he woke up, and giving you pain meds every two — though nothing seems to help you quite as much as sex, which you’ve been craving more and more in the latter half of your pregnancy (not that Jack is complaining, of course.)
“Sure you can handle it, honey?” the older man hums, teasing now, as the tip of his weeping cock nudges your achingly sensitive clit.
“Don’t I always, baby?” you deadpan, and don’t give him time to breathe before sinking down over him.
A groan rumbles deep in his throat as your pussy swallows him, inch by inch. Your relieved sigh entwines with the humming faucet as you ease yourself onto him. The warmth of him inside of you cuts through the ache that’s been lingering in your body for days now — a dull, persistent pain that only he can cure.
You melt into his slick chest as the aching leaves your body, replaced now by the fuller feeling of him nestled deep inside of you. You bury your head into his corded neck, inhaling the scent of musky soap clinging to his skin there. Jack noses into your damp hair.
“This okay?” he pants against your temple.
You nod lazily against him and murmur something that sounds like “fuck, you feel so good…” into his skin, though the words come out mostly muffled.
You thread your fingers into the damp silver curls at the nape of his neck, and Jack fights back a shiver. He molds you back together when you go lax on his lap, clutching your hip in one hand and cradling the base of your neck with the other, helping you move back and forth over his scruffy thighs.
“Take it then…” Jack mumbles in half-drunken slurs. “Take it for me, honey. C’mon…”
He leans slightly over, straining one arm to reach for the shower head hanging off the nozzle at his feet, left splashing against the tiled wall beside you. He keeps you pressed against his chest with one hand while his other angles the spout between your thighs. The water sprays against your already sensitive clit; you twitch instinctively at the warm pressure there.
“Jack—” you whimper through a gasped breath.
The man moans through gritted teeth when you clench around him. His free hand tightens around the back of your neck. “I know, honey. I know,” he hums in uneven breaths. “It’s okay. Just use me, baby. There you go. Just use me.”
His words cling to you the same way the rolling steam does, softening all the hardened edges of you. And just for a little while, as Jack keeps you together as you fall apart for him on his lap, the pain finally quiets.
The smell hits him about halfway down the hall.
The lingering steam from the bathroom, smelling like a mixture of your sweet-musky shampoos, gives way to something far more bitter as he nears the kitchen — which has become nothing short of your own personal laboratory since your pregnancy cravings hit. You’ve made otherwise unfathomable concoctions within these walls in the meantime. Jack’s just glad you’ve moved past the sardines and lemon juice phase.
“Wow…” the man croons sarcastically from the threshold, stuffing his keys into the pocket of his scrub pants. “It smells absolutely delicious in here, honey. What’s on the menu for today?”
You don’t look up from the counter before you, as you drench a plate in hot sauce. “Pickles and tabasco,” you answer in monotone. “AKA the only thing I can eat without puking.”
“Hm,” Jack hums, closer now, as his wide hands splay along your shoulders. He spots the container of Rocky Road sitting just to the side, slowly weeping until it gets to the consistency you like. “And the ice cream?”
You tilt your head, glancing up at him like it’s obvious. “To help with the burn. Duh.”
His stomach turns at the thought of such a mixture. His nose scrunches as you reach for a pickle slice, which seems to serve purely as a vehicle for the hot sauce that drips onto the side of your thumb and forefinger when you shove the thing into your mouth.
You hum with a slow nod, eyes fluttering shut as you lick the excess from your fingertips — you didn’t even look this gratified when he was fucking you a half-hour ago.
A laugh sputters from his mouth at the thought.
“That’s what makes you less nauseous?”
“Well, you made me eat real food last night, and I spent all morning puking, so…”
“You don’t feel nauseous anymore, though, right?” he asks, more solemn now, as his chest reignites with a red-hot worry.
“Mm-mm,” you hum wordlessly through another bite.
“And the medicine helped your headache?”
You sigh hard through your nose, turning once more to face him. “Yes, Jack— What’s with the third degree?”
His scruffy jaw tightens a fraction as concern flickers behind his eyes. The hands on your shoulders grip you harder, absentmindedly massaging the ache in your back with his thumb. “You just worry me, honey. That’s all…”
You roll your eyes, though there’s no real bite to your annoyance now. “It’s your fault for getting me pregnant…”
“Hey. You were there, too,” he scoffs, watching with a big dumb grin on his face as you shovel a bite of Rocky Road into your mouth to wash down the pickle-tabasco mixture. “You played a pretty big part in the whole getting pregnant thing, if I recall. Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it, either.”
He reaches past you for the plate and steals a sauceless pickle from the pile there, pinching it into his mouth with his thumb and forefinger.
“Hm,” you shrug and swallow down the mouthful. “Jury’s still out on that, I think…”
That earns you a look. Jack’s eyes widen with something sharper and visibly amused, scruffy cheek softly jutted until he downs the bite. “Oh, you are just asking for it, aren’t you?” he hums, leaning forward with clear intent.
You pull back from him at the last second, scrunching your nose in disgust.
“My breath smells.”
“I don’t give a shit,” Jack scoffs, and leans down again to press his mouth to yours anyway — a chaste and smacking kiss, filled with a sort of domesticity that makes your stomach do a back flip. It’s hard to imagine, now, that there was ever a time you didn’t want this; that you didn’t want him.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” he tells you with a huff, parting from you to head to the front door. “Get some sleep while I’m gone— I need you to be well-rested for what I have planned tomorrow.”
Your eyes narrow in his direction, because you thought you’d made it pretty clear that you had zero plans of doing anything until the baby got here. “And what is that exactly?”
“Well, it’s my professional opinion that intercourse is the best way to induce labor,” Jack tells you as he swings open the door, letting in streams of golden hour sunlight and wisps of cool evening air. He picks up his military bag from the entrance and swings it over his shoulder. A slow grin spreads across his face as he says, “And I plan on intercourse-ing the shit out of you when I get home.”
Your chest burns with a giddy feeling. One you haven’t felt in quite some time, a flame burning anew.
“Yay…” you deadpan anyway, rolling your eyes for dramatic effect. “So exciting…”
“Yeah. Keep it up,” Jack squints with a smile as he swings the door shut behind him. “Let’s just hope you can back up that mouth when I get back.”
It starts first with a headache. It always did, even before you were pregnant. That sharp, splitting pressure behind your eyes is all too familiar to you now. You languish in the ache for a while and wait for it to pass with a cold press over your forehead like you always do. It doesn’t start to really scare you until it feels like the room has tilted slightly on its axis; an unwavering dizziness that doesn’t seem to shake off with a few blinks like it normally would.
The panic that gives you makes it suddenly very hard to breathe. Each exhale comes out shorter and tighter, as if your lungs have forgotten how to stretch properly. A cold, leaden weight settles in your chest accordingly, overpowering the pain that curls warm and low in your stomach where the baby kicks and writhes — an alien sort of feeling, like being stretched from the inside.
When it doesn’t pass after five minutes, you fumble for your phone and call the number for the PTMC like Jack had told you to — the best way to reach him while at work. It rings three times and clicks once when it’s answered. Static hums briefly on the other line before a familiar voice comes in, stammering slightly, as if they’d been told to answer.
“Uh— Um, PTMC— This is Mel. I mean, uh, Dr. King.”
“Hey, Mel…” You squeeze your eyes shut when your voice wavers, despite your attempt to steady it. You exhale slowly through your mouth and rub at the right side of your stomach, just below your ribs, where the baby kicks mercilessly at your side. “Is, uh… Is Jack around? He told me to call if I—”
“Honey?” Mel blurts, then turns slightly away from the receiver to call somewhere distantly. “Hey, Robby? Dr. Robby— It’s Honey.”
There’s a beat of silence, filled by distant shuffling as the line shifts again.
“Honey?” Robby calls, immediate and alert. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t think you’d still be around…” you hum into the receiver, voice taut as you blink away the blur creeping into your vision. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the road by now, Motorcycle Mike?”
He huffs a tired laugh. “Yeah, I-I’m headed that way, actually— Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I— I’m fine,” you lie weakly. “Is Jack there?”
“Uh…” Robby trails off, voice distant as he glances over his shoulder. “He’s in the OR right now, I believe. Do you need something?”
Your clammy grip tightens on the phone. Asking for help feels like choking.
“Do you remember my last check-up? With Dr. Myers?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, she told me that if I had another one of those headaches that feels like I’m being stabbed through the eyeball, that I need to come in, right?” you ramble on bated breath. “But do you think she meant it, like, I need to come in, or was she just, you know, saying that as a… formality?”
Robby’s silence is less than comforting. The static that precedes his response is heavy and ominous.
“Do I need to come get you?” he asks, suddenly very, very serious in a way that makes your aching chest that much tighter.
“Yeah,” you scoff anyway. “Because driving a motorcycle with a pregnant woman on the back is so safe.”
“No, I—” he huffs a breath, a mixture of a laugh and a frustrated sigh. “I meant, do you need someone to come get you?”
The thought of someone picking you up to take you to the ED is just as nerve-wracking as having to call someone for help. So you spend another two minutes convincing Robby that you’re fit enough to drive, and the eight minutes it takes to get to the hospital praying your migraine doesn’t blind you before you can pull into the parking lot.
Robby meets you in the waiting room to escort you the rest of the way inside. The white-blue fluorescent lights overhead feel like daggers in your temples. The sounds of a moderately controlled chaos blur around you — of beeping monitors, rushing footsteps, and distant voices.
He ushers you into the nearest room and dims the lights before he goes, leaving you alone just long enough for you to put on a hospital gown.
You wait for him on the edge of the made bed, with your heart in your throat and your legs swinging off the side. Robby knocks before he enters, flashing you a small smile as he rubs sanitizer between his palms.
“Jack’s finishing up. He’s on his way down now,” he tells you, then tilts his bearded chin in a more concerned look. “How’s your head?”
“Eh,” you shrug. “Haven’t had any complaints.”
“Okay, I’m not even— gonna comment on the sarcasm,” Robby huffs as he descends onto the squeaking stool beside the monitor. He slips his glasses out of his scrub pocket and slides them onto the bridge of his nose. “You being a smart ass is a pretty good sign, actually…”
He slips a blood pressure cuff over your elbow with practiced hands. You try not to focus on the strangling feeling as it tightens around your arm, where you can feel your heart beating as your fingers start to tingle. Robby watches the numbers closely, with a strange sort of attentiveness typically only reserved for less-than-desirable results.
“What?” you blurt when his expression shifts. “What is it?”
He blinks hard for a second, then shakes his head. “Nothing. Sorry. Your— Your blood pressure just a little higher than I’d like…”
The cuff loosens with a mechanical whir. Robby slips it off and slides it back into place on the monitor beside you. You tilt your chin to watch him as he looms suddenly over you.
“Is that bad?”
Robby doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he slips his stethoscope over his ears and presses the cold chest piece against your back.
“Take a deep breath for me,” he murmurs in a distant, gritty voice. You abide and pray silently that he doesn’t notice how the inhale catches somewhere deep in your chest. He listens for a few beats longer than you expect him to, with his brows lowered in a look of concentration.
“Any chest pain?” he wonders suddenly.
“I had some earlier. You know, before I called.” You inhale once more. “But I feel better now.”
“What about any nausea or vomiting in the past week?”
“I had some morning sickness when I woke up, but… Google said it was normal, so…”
“Well,” Robby scoffs a laugh, sliding his stethoscope back over his neck. He keeps his hands wrapped around either end as he walks backward for the door. “If it was Dr. Google, then I guess it’s alright.”
His smile slips off his face the second he’s back outside. His pace hurries as he rushes for the work station down the hall. He makes a beeline for Dana by the overhead monitor, keeping his voice low, though it trembles around the edges with urgency.
“Get a crash cart and a fetal monitor to North 2,” Robby whispers to the woman, who tenses at his direction, because she knows you’re the one in North 2. “Call the NICU, call the OB, and wherever Jack is— tell him to hurry the hell up. Now.”
Robby disappears for no longer than a minute or two. He brings a strange air in with him when he returns, an undeniable tension that makes it suddenly very hard to breathe. He plucks on a pair of blue gloves this time before he steps in — and you’ve known him long enough to tell that the smile he gives you is faker than the one he had before.
“Is everything okay?” you ask, heart pounding against your ribcage. It’s like anxiety times a thousand — the racing pulse you get right before a panic attack, except no amount of breathing can seem to slow it down again.
“Yeah,” Robby says gently, and steps out of the doorway when a team of doctors and grey-scrubbed nurses rush in — machines rolling, wires tangling, voices overlapping with directions.
Robby looms at your side and ducks his head to keep your wandering attention. “Everything’s great, honey— You’re just about to meet a lot of people right now.”
The inhale you take feels shorter than usual as you blink up at him with eyes swimming with worry. “But… I’m okay, right?”
“You’re gonna be,” he tells you, steady and only slightly reassuring, as he reaches for the oxygen tube propped on the monitor at your side. “You and Jack are gonna meet your baby before the night’s over— That’s exciting, right?”
You feel strangled. Like worry’s wrapped a cold hand around your throat and your heart, too — and when you go dizzy again, you can’t tell if it’s from the news or if the migraine is flaring again. You take in a stuttering breath when Robby slips the oxygen tube over your ears, cool air rushing up into your nostrils.
“Where’s Jack?” is the only thing you can think to say.
“He’s on his way,” Robby promises firmly.
Shen lays a cotton blanket over your lap as Crus stands on the other side of the bed, rolling an ultrasound machine with him. “Some jelly on the belly, Ms. Honey,” the R4 tells you with a smile, too soft for all the chaos filling the room. “We’re gonna do a quick ultrasound, okay? Check on little Abbot in there.”
You can’t find the words to speak. You feel like your throat’s too tight for that now. So you just lift the bottom of your hospital gown and drag it over your round stomach, leaving the rest of you concealed beneath the blanket. He squirts gel onto your skin, and a shiver trails up your spine.
Only then do the words on the tip of your tongue seem to gain the courage to spill out.
“What the hell is going on—?”
The door swings open then. You just barely catch sight of Jack over the bustling bodies surrounding you, but his voice is unmistakable. “What the hell is going on?” he announces the same way you had, though his sharper tone cuts through the room like a blade.
Robby leaves your side to intercept the man, pulling him to the corner and debriefing him in a hushed voice. “Her BP’s 170/110. Her symptoms have only gotten worse since she’s been here— I’m worried if she doesn’t deliver this baby right now, she’ll go into cardiac arrest.”
Jack’s face drains of color.
He crosses his strong arms over his chest in a feeble attempt to soothe the sudden tightness there, as his head whips suddenly in your direction. He watches his residents tend to you with a controlled sort of chaos, moving around each other in swift motions usually reserved for when someone’s really in trouble.
He shakes his silver head to himself. “No… No, she was— She was fine this morning, man. I’ve been— I’ve been checking on her all day. She was 130/80 when I left—”
“Well, it’s not anymore,” Robby interjects, firm but not entirely unkind. His dark eyes swim with a similar sternness when he catches Jack’s eye. “If we don’t do something now, something will happen to this, baby— Or to her. So you don’t have to stay and watch, brother, but you cannot get in the way, understand?”
Jack struggles to catch his breath. He feels a little like the room is spinning around him. He blinks hard once, regains his bearings, and rushes immediately to your side. He plucks a handful of tissues from the dispenser on the wall to wipe the gel from your stomach as Crus finishes the ultrasound.
Your pinched look of worry ebbs at the sight of him. Your heavy head lolls on the pillow behind you as your bleary eyes follow his face, though you struggle to blink the haze from them now.
“Jack…” you sigh.
“Hey, honey…” he says, voice soft but still tighter than usual.
“What’s going on?” you tell him, in half-breathless slurs. “I just came in for a headache— I don’t… I don’t understand what’s wrong?”
“Everything’s fine—”
You shake your head, then close your eyes when it makes the room spin harder. “You’re lying…”
“You have severe preeclampsia. It’s a blood pressure disorder. The only cure for it now is to deliver the baby,” Jack explains in a strangely even voice as he leans over the side of your bed, keeping your gaze on him and not the chaos surrounding you. “But your heart’s working a little too hard right now, so we’re gonna have to put you to sleep so we can get you upstairs to the OB—”
“We’re inducing here,” Robby says, as a nurse helps him tie the back of his PPE gown.
Jack’s head snaps over his shoulder. “Here?”
“It’s better than her arresting in the elevator.”
Your breath stutters, and this time, it feels impossible to catch again.
“Am I gonna die?” you hear yourself ask.
“No,” Jack answers immediately. “You’re fine, honey. Between all of us, we’ve seen this procedure done a hundred times, okay? You’re in good hands— The best hands.”
McKay enters your tunnel vision then. The PPE covering her from head to toe feels sort of daunting, but her eyes are still kind behind her safety glasses.
“I’m gonna give you an IV, okay? The medicine’s gonna sedate you— It’ll feel just like falling asleep,” the woman coos to you, as she smooths an alcohol wipe over the inside of your elbow. “A little pinch and some burning…”
You wince when the needle pierces your skin. An icy burning sensation follows quickly, spanning the length of your forearm. You’re grounded only by Jack’s hands on your cheeks, warm and softly calloused, velvet personified.
“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he tells you, holding your weary gaze with a sterner one. “For you, it’ll feel just like blinking, okay? It’ll be over in a second. You won’t even know it happened—”
His words do little to comfort you. You can hardly hear him now over the heartbeat whoosh, whoosh, whooshing rapidly in your ears.
“Please don’t let me die…” you whimper as burning tears cloud your vision.
It’s not the death part that’s so scary to you exactly, but rather the fact that the nursery isn’t even finished; and that the crib is only halfway done; and that you haven’t even decided on a baby name yet. There’s too much you haven’t done yet — a whole life inside of you that you haven’t gotten to hold between your hands.
“Please, don’t let me die, Jack. Please, don’t…”
You trail off. Your eyes grow glassy and distant, like you’re looking right past him. Your head grows heavy in his hands a second later.
“…Honey?”
“Is it the medicine?” Nazely asks from where she observes in the corner.
“No. It wouldn’t work that fast—”
Your neck jerks back, and your eyes flutter shut, never quite closing as they dance back and forth. The monitor starts beeping first — “She’s seizing!”Shen announces to the room. You begin trembling in his hold a half second later.
“Get her on her side!” Robby calls through the surgical mask being tied around his scruffy jaw.
Jack works with quick, practiced hands despite his racing mind. He cradles the back of your head in one palm, and your jerking shoulder with the other.
“Push another 10 of IV diazepam!” he commands. “Have another on standby!”
“Put the AP pads on in case of cardiac arrest,” Robby says as the crowd parts for him to make his way to your side. He flashes Jack a stern look from the opposite side of the bed. “I love you, brother, but right now, you either need to gown up or get the hell out of the way.”
Jack’s worried eyes snap to his. He inhales sharply through his nose, though the breath tries to hitch in his chest. He nods once to clear his head, then twice more in confirmation.
“Alright. C’mon. Matteo— Help me scrub in,” he commands and stands to full height again, shifting to doctor mode in a blink. He never quite takes his eyes off you as the nurse dresses him in sterile gear.
Please, god, don’t take her, he finds himself praying to a god he’s not entirely sure he believes in. I only just got her back. You can’t take her from me now.
Recusitative hysterotomy in thirty-six seconds. The whole ED is talking about it.
You were V-Fib for two minutes. Your baby wouldn’t cry for five. It took a roomful of doctors to bring you both to life again. But all that havoc is gone now — your baby is in the NICU for more intensive monitoring, and all the doctors have moved on to all their other patients that need saving.
Somehow, the stillness feels more nerve-racking than the chaos.
Maybe because Jack never was the best at waiting. It’s a truth that lives deep in his bones, etched there from decades of sirens and split-second decisions, that hesitation can cost lives. To him, waiting has always felt a little like negligence — like standing still and watching everything else happen around him. But that’s all he can do for you now. Wait. And it feels a little like dying.
He sits at your bedside in a hard plastic chair with his elbows braced on the thin mattress and his trembling hands holding your limp one. He can’t bring himself to take his eyes off of you, scared to miss you for even a faint fraction of a second. The dim lighting of the recovery room casts soft shadows over the edges of your sleeping face. Machines whisper just next to you, in slow and rhythmic beeps that remind him that you’re still here — that your heart’s still beating.
He knows this. He knows sedation, and post-op recovery, and how to read every machine in this room. But none of it matters now. Because he can’t stop thinking about all the cynical what ifs — what if your heart stops beating when no one’s looking; what if your brain was starved for a second too long; what if the last thing you ever said to him was ‘please don’t let me die?’
Jack doesn’t think he could live with himself if that were the case.
When he hears the door swing open and shut behind him — when he hears the noise of the hallway swell and muffle again — he knows it’s Robby entering the room without having to look over his shoulder. Maybe because he knows no one else is brave enough to come talk to him in a state like this.
Jack’s eyes flicker to the monitor.
“BP’s 102/64,” he announces to the silent room. “Hemoglobin’s up to 9.”
“Good,” Robby nods slowly. “Baby Abbot’s stable down the hall— three pounds, seven ounces. Fifteen inches…”
Jack doesn’t say a word.
“You can go hold her if you want,” the older man presses.
Again, Jack stays silent. He doesn’t know how to say that he’s too scared to leave you, too scared to face that he’s a father without having you beside him, too scared to ruin a little life before it’s even begun.
Robby sighs hard through his broad nose and walks to stand at the man’s side.
“You can’t stay in here like this, brother—”
“The hell I can’t,” Jack snaps with a hardened glare.
“You’re not her primary caregiver,” the man reminds him. “So, technically, you shouldn’t even be in the room— Gloria would have a fit if she found out you were treating your wife.”
“Well, good thing she’s not gonna find out, right?” Jack deadpans. “And I couldn’t care less if she did. I’m not leaving my wife.”
“It’s an ethical conflict, and you know it. We have doctors here that are more than capable of tending to her—”
“Robby, I—” Jack inhales sharply through his nose, eyes fluttering shut as a red-hot frustration swells within him. Through gritted teeth, he murmurs. “I love you, man. And I— I owe both my girls’ lives to you, but… Please don’t make me beat your ass on my daughter’s birthday. I really don’t think that’d be a great first start to fatherhood.”
Jack turns slowly to face the man beside him, his eyes glassy with the unshed tears he can’t seem to blink away. There’s less of a bite to his glare now, but it’s no less serious.
Robby knows this, so he nods in response and claps him on the shoulder. “Yeah. Fair enough…”
You wake forty-five minutes after Robby has left for the E.D. Jack knows this because he’s been taking your blood pressure every thirty minutes, and was nearing his hourly check of your IV line. He feels your fingers twitch in his hand first, right before you grumble an unceremonious “ow...” in the back of your gravelly throat.
Jack’s chair scrapes hard against the tile as he rises abruptly, reaching for you before you’ve even managed to open your eyes. He keeps your cold hand clutched in his left one, while his right hand cradles the top of your head — his thumb smooths over your temple without thinking, ‘cause he’s so used to massaging you there during your migraine spells.
“Easy, honey…” he coos, voice rough and frayed around the edges, when you shift on the thin mattress below — as if you’re momentarily confused as to why the bed you’re on now feels unlike your own.
Your lashes flutter when your eyes open. Even the dim lighting feels a little too bright. Your throat feels dry when you try to swallow, and your tongue feels a little heavy in your mouth. There’s a dull ache, too, that spans from your forehead to your ankles — and a burning sensation from your collarbones to your bellybutton.
You remember the headache that sent you in, and the chaos that followed, but nothing after Jack burst into the room.
“Hurts…” you manage weakly.
“I know, honey. I know,” Jack hums sympathetically, and clears his throat when his voice breaks.
“My chest…” you choke out, features twisting in a quiet agony.
“Yeah, you’ve got some burn marks from the defib pads, baby— They should go away in a few days. I’ll put some more medicine on your bandages, okay?”
You don’t say anything in return, and Jack doesn’t totally expect you to. There’s a long beat where neither of you says a word. You just breathe, in slow and even inhale-exhales, and Jack just watches you. He almost thinks you’ve fallen asleep again until you shift once more on the mattress.
A hollow feeling has started to settle in your stomach. It feels empty, wrong, and creeps gradually up on you until it starts to feel like something has been carved out of you entirely. Your brows knit slowly together.
“Where…?” you start, though the whispered question trails before you can finish it.
“She’s in the NICU getting checked out,” Jack tells you, voice trembling as he blinks back burning tears.
It doesn’t truly hit him until then — that he’s a dad now, that he’s got a family with you, the only girl he ever dreamed of having one with. He couldn’t let the thought truly settle until he was sure that you were okay.
“She’s perfect,” he adds, because he knows you need to hear that most of all. “She’s doing real well—”
“She?” you echo, voice small and disbelieving.
You find the strength to open your eyes then. They’re a little swollen from hours of induced sleep, but sparkling with newfound life all the same. Jack feels the look right in his chest, a sparkling red-hot feeling that makes him feel like crying.
“Yeah…” he says on an exhaled breath that’s supposed to be a laugh, though it comes out a little unsteady. “She. Three pounds, seven ounces, fifteen inches… Robby’s been trying to convince me that Robin is a perfectly good girl name ever since she got here.”
Your lip twitches faintly upward. A ghost of a smile breaks through the haze as your thumb smooths over the rough edges of Jack’s knuckles.
“Can I hold her now?” you ask in a fragile voice.
Jack’s expression softens. Something warm and aching floods into his eyes.
“Yeah,” he nods. “Soon. You just… You gotta get your strength back first, alright? She’s a little early, so… They wanna keep an eye on her for a bit.”
You nod against the pillow, head heavy and tired. You blink slowly as you try to piece together what happened to you through the fog still clouding your mind.
“Was it bad?” is the first thing you think to ask.
Jack’s jaw stiffens slightly. He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
“It wasn’t good…” he answers honestly, greying brows bouncing. He nods to himself and blinks away the unshed tears that burn the backs of his eyes. “But you’re okay now— Both of you. That’s what matters…”
You stare at him for a long moment, blinking slowly, as the words settle heavily upon you.
“Holy shit…” you whisper on barely a breath.
Jack’s chest stings. He exhales through his nose and bends at the waist to press a soft, careful kiss to your temple. “I know, honey—” he murmurs there, mistaking your tone, and preparing to soothe you through whatever wave of panic comes next.
But then you shake your head, just barely, as your brows furrow in an incredulous look.
“We’re parents now…” you murmur to yourself, voice still coated with leftover sleep. “We’re responsible for a whole human…”
Jack huffs a quiet laugh as he stands to full height again. He swipes an eyelash from the apple of your warm cheek and nods. “Yeah. That’s… That’s pretty terrifying, huh?”
“A lot terrifying,” you correct.
“Well…” he starts. “I’ve kept you alive this long, haven’t I?”
You flash him a look, weighed down with fatigue but still obviously playful. “Jury’s still out,” you quip drily.
Jack scoffs a laugh. “So she’s got a fighting chance, at least.”
Your chapped lips curl slowly into a tired, barely-there grin. Your heavy eyes flutter shut as something short of sleep threatens to drag you back under. “You’re gonna be such a good dad…”
“Based on what?” the older man quips. “My stellar bedside manner?”
Your head shakes weakly against the pillow as your fingers just barely tighten around his hand. “Based on the fact that the first thing you ever did for her was fight to keep her here…”
Jack feels his heart swell up into his throat. It makes him feel like crying. He shrugs a lazy shoulder in response, if only to deflect. “That’s kinda the job, honey,” he jokes with a sad sort of laugh.
“That was you…” you argue in sleepy slurs. “She’s lucky… Both of us are…”
Jack’s teary gaze falls to your entwined hands. He nods slowly with his lips pursed to the side of his mouth, until he’s sure he can speak again without his voice shaking. His words come out a little taut, even still.
“No, I’m the lucky one here, honey,” he tells you in a strangled, gravelly voice. “I promise.”
pairing: jack abbot x f!night shift resident!reader
warnings: language, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), very tender and intimate, steamy but not explicit
word count: 3.5k
summary: pittsburgh is bracing for the worst winter storm in 40 years. you and jack are accepting the truth of your relationship.
notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with any of my work or this fic. long time no write <3 i pulled the title for this one from to be alone by hozier. i hope you missed these two as much as i have <3 this is a part of the ring of fire interconnected series, but it’s not necessary to read the prior parts to understand this fic. if you would like to, though, you can find the masterlist here <3 not proofread so apologies for any errors!
the strap of your duffel bag digs into your shoulder, slowing you down as you hobble from the bus stop towards the hospital. the worst of the storm hasn’t hit yet– not even close. honestly, when you look at your surroundings, you find it hard to believe that all of pittsburgh is bracing for the worst snow storm in forty years. everything feels so… peaceful. calm before the storm, and all that, blah blah blah.
you hate when you have to stay at the hospital, hate sleeping in the beds for longer than a couple hour nap in between a double. but you understand the importance, understand why you can’t be going back and forth. but, still. it doesn’t mean you’re going to go down happy about it. your phone starts buzzing in your pocket. you struggle to fish it out, with all of your various layers of coats, scarves, and mittens. you rip a glove off with your teeth so you can answer. “hey.”
“you close?”
“i’m moving at glacial speed, but, yeah, i’m theoretically close.”
“alright, be out in a sec.”
it’s futile arguing, because by the time you glance up, you can see a speck out in the distance that is abbot shaped. you can tell, just by the gait. hurrying towards you, head down, hands tucked in the pocket of his coat. you stop for a moment just to watch him, and he holds his hands out incredulously. “you makin’ this harder for me?” the words are laced with levity, making you tip your head back and laugh.
abbot is always making you laugh. big, full belly laughs– before you became friends with him, you had envied hearing the laughter that emitted from shen and ellis and abbot on the night shift. it felt so easy, like a warm hug and a cup of tea all in one. and it does feel like that. closeness with abbot really is that comforting.
“well i’m definitely not making this easy!” he trots up towards you and you tilt your head to the side. “this bag is heavy. can you handle it?”
“you poor thing,” he says under his breath as his hand slides under the strap, brushing your shoulder. he meets your gaze. “i can handle it.”
the smile on your face is equal parts delighted and sheepish, and you burrow slightly into your scarf, leaving only your eyes visible to him. but, his eyes still flick down to where your mouth would be, anyway.
things had changed between you. in subtle ways– but you could feel the difference. everything felt charged with a high level of energy, like at any moment, either one of you may just make the decision to throw yourself at the other. there’s a part of you, a prideful part that may be slightly avoidant, that has held yourself back from leaning into your whims in the way that you would truly want to. you don’t know why that is. if anyone would take proper care of your heart and your feelings, it would be abbot. he is particular about most things in his life– you don’t imagine he’d be reckless with your emotions.
but, still. dead wife, missing leg, adrenaline junkie who has worked through his shit, yes, but… there’s still work to be done. there’s always work to be done. you rationalize that that’s true for you, too. it’s why you and jack got along in the first place.
night crawlers. that’s what he always called you and your motley crew. the weirdest and the wildest. and it was true. it was true about you, ellis, shen, vivi, crus, mateo… you were all a little odd. during turnover, day shift usually looked at you a bit like a caged zoo animal– half fascination and half disbelief. you didn’t take it personally any more.
“ready for this shit show?” abbot asks as you begin your trek towards the hospital.
“yeah, i have miriam house sitting my place. told her i didn’t know how long yet.” a friend of yours– jack has heard all of the stories. even met her, once. not that anyone else at PTMC needs to know how interwoven jack has become into your life. not their business. “i slept for, like, five extra hours before coming. i hate sleeping here.”
“well,” jack looks over at you. he has a beanie tugged onto his head, little grey curls poking out at the sides around his ears. his scarf is a deep brown, and it looks expensive, like maybe his sister got it for him for a nice christmas or birthday gift. he looks good enough to eat. “i got dana to pull me a favor.” you raise an eyebrow at him. “she put us on our own floor.”
you can’t help it– you laugh. “you’re shitting me.” he shakes his head. “aren’t people going to be suspicious? like, where did we run off to?”
jack raises an eyebrow at you. “what do you think they’re gonna say?”
“what they’ve been saying.” you both stop in the ambulance bay. “that there’s something going on with us.”
abbot hums. “let ‘em talk.” he shrugs his shoulders. like it’s all just so easy. “and… are they so wrong, anyway?” he smirks, but there’s something else hidden in it. a genuine question. a seeking of confirmation. your jaw drops at him and you hit his arm, convincing yourself that he’s just messing with you. jack messes with you often. he catches your wrist, and his thumb slips under your mitten, rubbing at the soft skin of your wrist, where your veins are. “are they?” he asks, and his words are soft, earnest.
your mouth opens to say of course they are but you’re interrupted by the squeal of ambulance sirens and the flood of day shifters coming out to get started on a trauma. you and jack shuffle out of the way and into the ED, but you can still feel him glancing over at you.
once you’re inside, there’s very little time to stop him and say yes, i feel it too. i felt it in the shower with you a few weeks ago and i feel it every time that we smoke together and i feel it when we lay on your couch and i feel it when we’re on opposite sides of a person that we couldn’t save and i feel it when someone takes a gulping breath because we did save them.
once you break through into the stairwell, there’s a familiar quiet. and on the third floor landing, when jack is panting, just a bit, with the weight of your duffel bag on his shoulder, you stop him with your hand on his arm. “they’re not wrong.” you take the duffel bag back and take your turn shouldering the weight of it.
if jack was a hastier man, he might’ve kissed you in that moment. but he’s patient, and although he looks down again at your mouth, his eyes find their way back to yours. “gonna be a long couple of days,” he says. he swings open the door and pokes his head down the hall.
–
you take your time wiping down the room that you’re staying in. you know what goes down in these rooms– and, to be fair, you’d wipe down a room at the ritz-carlton. that’s just how you are. out the window, you see fat flurries falling from the sky, faster and faster. the news had projected that things would start amping up around this time. you wonder how long until the hospital is relying on the emergency generator– the rumor was the floors that were housing staff would be cut off from power, to conserve it for everywhere else. on one hand, you understand. on the other, you can’t help but feel it is a perfect reflection of how these hospitals treat their staff.
clad in your most comfortable and soft clothes, you peek out of your door and look down the hall. one room over, a faint glow emits from below the crack in the door, and you hear green day playing. you knock once on the door and it opens for you like he was just waiting for you. he puts a hand on his hip and smirks at you. “took you long enough. ready for our walk?” he reaches behind him and tosses a tube at you. you glance at it and grin.
jack puts his coat on and follows you back to your room where you grab your puffer. you’ve already put those ridiculous pink mittens on– and he takes it upon himself to zip you up into your jacket, to put a beanie on your head. his touches are careful and gentle, and it makes your heart turn over itself. “it’s like you’re wrapped in bubble wrap,” he says with a laugh under his breath.
“it’s cold!” you exclaim back.
jack leads you out to the smoking area. it’s not the best look for two physicians to be there, you know this– but you think you’re incognito enough that maybe it doesn’t matter. you huddle together on the stone bench, hip to hip. you shiver still and jack looks over at you with concern. “c’mere, get closer.”
“i don’t think i can get any closer without sitting in your lap.”
the implication weighs heavy in the air. jack’s mouth opens and for a moment you think he’s going to tug you into his lap– but he doesn’t. he just looks at you and leans in closer. “how do you expect to smoke with those monstrosities on?” he asks with a glint in his eye.
“what, you’re not going to help me?”
“i can help you.” jack takes the tube back from you and pops it open, putting the joint between his lips. he fishes out his zippo from his pocket and lights it, blowing out the first puff. once it’s got a good, burning cherry, he looks to you. you part your lips slightly and he places it for you. the ring of fire reflects in his eyes, that do nothing but stare at you with purposeful intent. you blow the smoke out over your shoulder. everything feels hazy and slow.
and then, everything goes dark.
the streetlights. the inside of the hospital– all of it. only for about ten seconds before the emergency generator powers up and resuscitates the most important parts of PTMC. when you drag your eyes to the third floor, where you and jack share a wall and will rest your heads tonight, you see that it has, as promised, remained dark.
“shit,” jack sighs. “that didn’t take very long, did it?”
“nope.” you lean a little closer into him, your head resting on his shoulder. “what was already going to be a shitty nights sleep just got worse.”
jack is quiet, and you look up to see him with the joint between his lips. he says around the smoke, “stay in my room with me.” he exhales fully.
you’re hazy from the weed and tired and ready to lay down and, yes, you’re ready to lay down beside him. it wouldn’t be the first time. “okay.”
he tips your chin up so that he can give you another hit off the joint. it’s all slow and easy, and you feel the anxiety that you’ve been having over staying at PTMC slowly dissipate. because, regardless, jack is here. the same jack that lets you sleep on his couch and pays for your breakfast when you go to the little diner you like. familiar jack.
the crunching of steps in the snow hit your ears. you lift your head, barely, and see princess and perlah with their arms laced. princess gives you a little wave and winks.
jack chuckles. “that didn’t take long.”
–
it feels like you’re getting ready for prom. that giddiness– the unknown of what’s to come, but the wanting for something grand to happen to you. jack has always made you feel a little bit like a girl with a crush. he has that effect on everyone. princess always loved to joke that a crush on dr. abbot was a rite of passage, and that everyone had to just ride the wave. you rode the wave, certainly. you’re not sure if you ever got off the wave, and that’s the problem.
there’s already a chill on your floor. when you come to his door, you’re holding a pillow and an extra blanket you had stuffed in your duffel from home. you have slippers on. he answers the door and looks you up and down. “you look cute.”
“shut up,” you grumble with warm cheeks, brushing past him. “the hospital air makes me feel gross. i swear i get ugly when i stay here too long.”
jack scoffs. “no, but it makes you crazy, apparently.” he shuts the door. someone had come by to drop off candles, and they’re burning all over the room. an almost certain safety hazard, but that’s the least of your worries now. “i’ve never seen you look ugly.”
“i wasn’t fishing for compliments.”
“you don’t have to fish. i’ll give them up freely.”
he watches you sit, tuck your legs underneath you on the bed and shiver. “it’s only going to get colder,” you remark, looking out the window. the snow is coming down and coming down and coming down. you suspect it’ll get bad, and soon. it’s only a matter of time before your pager goes off, a desperate cry for backup needed. you yawn and glance at the clock. 9:07pm. you don’t usually go to bed so early– of course not, being night shift. but it was your day off tonight, technically. and abbot’s.
“can i…” jack clears his throat. “we can lay down. might help stay warm.”
“yeah. yeah, good idea.” you pull the covers back and slide beneath them, and abbot comes to the other side of the bed and does the same. the candlelight flickers across his face and you swear that he’s not even breathing, not until he lays down beside you. he’s stiff, arms at his sides– but they’re warm. he’s warm, burning like a furnace, and it’s instant relief to the bonedeep chill that you feel.
“how are you so warm?” you ask. your hand runs down his arm and you fight the urge to pull him closer.
“i run hot,” he says simply. it’s so quiet in this room– you’re not used to such quiet. the pitt is a cacophony of sound, and it runs over into your dreams. but this floor is so hushed, and peaceful, that it feels almost like a dream. hell, maybe it is. jack lays his arm out. “come here.”
it’s a command, but it isn’t, at the same time– jack only does it because he understands that it’s what you want, but what you won’t ask for. you oblige immediately. your arms wrap around him, and he shivers when your hand skims his skin. “you are cold,” he murmurs, holding you tighter. one hand goes to the back of your neck and your eyes shutter closed. “c’mere.”
your legs tangle together, three flesh and one metal. you’ve slept in a bed together, but you’ve never intertwined yourselves in this way. the hand that doesn’t cradle your neck rubs circles into your back. you shiver again, but not because you’re cold. not this time. his hand dips beneath the hem of your shirt, just barely. “is this okay?” his lips are against your ear. “just want to warm you up.”
you nod, fervently. “yes.” there’s a desperation that you feel. his hand presses against your skin, sliding up your back. it lands in the center. your eyes can hardly stay open because it feels so good, but it feels like it would be a robbery of your pleasure to fall asleep with his hands all over you like this. you want to savor every last moment.
his hand travels to your hip, and he squeezes. you gasp and run your foot up his calf, the one that’s there in full. he freezes and pulls back, almost instantly. your pupils are blown and you put a hand to your hammering heart. “did i– did i do something–”
“no,” he swings his legs over the bed, and leans forward. you scramble up behind him, your hand to his back. “no, i just–” he sighs, and you can feel the frustration, and maybe, just maybe, insecurity. “a prosthetic isn’t exactly warm. i didn’t even think to take it off.”
“jack…” your hand travels up and to his shoulder. you settle, just behind him, positioned so as he turns his face to you, you’re right there. “i don’t mind. i don’t mind anything. i just– i just want you to be comfortable. that’s all.”
there’s something raw in his eyes. raw, wanting, and so real. he doesn’t say anything. he goes back to focusing on freeing his leg from the prosthetic, groaning once it’s off. he rubs for just a moment at it, before he turns back to you. warm cheeks, a hand on his back, face open and gentle and it breaks him down a bit.
he pushes you back down into the mattress. not forcefully. he’s careful as he does it.
he’s careful when he leans forward and he kisses you.
it’s slow. it’s methodical. it’s the kiss someone gives when they’ve thought about it for a very, very long time. your hand goes to the back of his head and you wish, more than anything else in this world, that you could freeze this moment in time and live in it for the rest of forever.
when he pulls back, he clears his throat. he’s hovering above you and you’re staring up at him like he’s just changed your life, which, it would turn out, he did. your hand goes to his face and your thumb skims the crows feet you love so much. he turns his face into your palm and breathes it in, kisses the skin there. “thank you,” he says, his voice a bit unsteady.
you breathe in deep. “come here,” you echo his previous sentiment. he goes back to the position you’d been in previously, and you feel a little bolder now– like the writing that was on the wall is now common knowledge. like a bubble has burst and neither of you have to pretend anymore. you don’t even have to speak the words, not really– you’ve always known and understand each other a little too well, when it didn’t quite make sense to. when you were just passing figures, before you got on night shift.
even then, you remember you would be pouring out your coffee cup in the break room while jack was filling up his. there were these little pockets of conversation that you two would get stuck in. whether you were talking about music or a case or whatever else it was– the ease of familiarity had been with you both for a long time.
that’s why there’s no grand confession on your lips. not right now, anyway– it’s just the quiet of you both together, the four walls of this recovery room, and jack’s hand back on your hip. your lips skim across his collarbone and you feel the sharp inhale. you laugh a little bit and press a kiss there, just to see what he’ll do. you feel the heat radiating off of his body, and you see the flush that is blossoming all over him, keeping him honest.
it’s exploratory. all of it is– you dance your finger along his side just to see what he does. he tugs a bit on your hair and smiles when you gasp a little bit. his lips kiss yours but they also trace down your jaw and to your throat, and when your hand claps against the back of his head, he takes satisfaction in knowing that he’s found one of the most sensitive parts of you.
“you feel so good,” jack says and it melts you into a puddle until you’re just a nodding head.
a pager goes off. you’re unsure if it’s yours, or his.
jack groans, deep from inside of himself, and you press your thighs together. he pushes his hair back and looks down at you, as though he’s been walking the desert for hours and finally found an oasis. “i don’t know if i can leave knowing you’re here, like this.”
“you’re sort of obligated to, doctor.” you pull him down, finding this new found familiarity of touch so easy to replicate over and over again.
he hovers above you and kisses you once more. it’s hot– it’s not as delicate as the first. he parts your lips with his tongue and he kisses you in way that’s not sloppy but not so demure– it’s just right.
if his pager went off first, yours goes off next.
jack rises from the bed and settles back into his prosthetic. the pair of you change into scrubs and are brushing your teeth at the same mirror, jack just behind you. you stare at each other in the mirror and he puts your stethoscope on your neck. you clip his badge to his pants, and his hands flex at his sides.
when you leave the small hospital room, you can’t fight the feeling that you’ve just walked into the rest of your life.
Summary: You’d gone straight to the gym after work, or else you would have seen the condition your roommate was in earlier. After getting home for your shift in The Pitt, and subsequent gym session that came after it, you find your roommate suffering from appendicitis and rush them to the ED. All would be well except in the rush to get there you forget that you were braless in a top that leaves nothing to the imagination. Now in the chilly ER you are faced with the senior attending who has been secretly pining over you for months, and the piercings you got when you turned nineteen are on full display for him to see.
Tags: Jack Abbot x Resisdent!Reader, Female reader, age gap (reader is 29), mildly explicit content, public setting, smoking mentioned, mutual pining, minor jealousy, no use of y/n
Word Count: 6.4K
A/N: So fun tidbit for this fic, the story reader tells Santos is entirely my own experience. That actually happened to me verbatim. Also nothing about the fic itself, but about the formatting. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written a one shot fic on here, and I cannot for the life of me figure out how to centre the page breakers, so if anybody can help a guy out so I can stop looking stupid I’d really appreciate it. Thanks!
Part 1 | Part 2
You’d barely stepped through the door before you were pulling the slightly sweaty sports bra off from underneath your shirt, breathing a sigh of relief at finally being free from the constricting material. You knew your roommate wouldn’t mind. You had both seen each other in various degrees of nakedness over the years, a nipple through a tight sports tee was nothing new in your apartment. You threw the garment straight into the washer as you passed by on your way to the living room where you assumed your roommate would be waiting for you. After all, you had one more episode of your current Netflix binge left to watch, and you knew she would still be up waiting for you.
The living room was dark when you opened the door. Odd. Your roommate never had the lights off. In fact it had been a point of contention between you when you’d first moved in together whilst you were still a medical student. She would walk into a room, turn all the lights on and then leave them on when she left. It had stressed you out more than you’d liked to admit as a student just barely scraping by from month to month, but the habit never left. So the fact that the living room was not illuminated right now was setting alarm bells off for you. You flicked the light switch on regardless.
”Hello? Are you alive in here?” You asked as you walked in, hoping that she had just fallen asleep after a hard day at work. There was a small groan from the bundle of blankets on the couch. In an instant you were crouching down beside where she was laid. ”Hey. What’s going on?” Your roommate was pale and clammy from the small amount you could see poking out of the blankets. You pulled them off of her, despite her argument, in an attempt to further check her over. “Tell me what’s going on.” You insist, quickly going back into doctor mode as your eyes scan her body.
”It’s just a stomach ache. I probably just have food poisioning.” She mumbled.
”Have you puked at all?”
”A couple times.” She shrugged, wincing again at the pain.
”Okay, I’m going to press on your stomach here. Tell me if it hurts.” You begin prodding at her stomach, pressing a few times before she screams out in pain. Guarding and tenderness in the lower right quadrant. These were tell tale signs for appendicitis. You had to get her to the ER now.
~~~
Through sheer will and determination you managed to drag your roommate out of the apartment and down the stairs to your car. You hadn’t stopped to put a coat on either of you, and barely managed to slip your crocs —the ones you only ever wear to take the bins out— onto your feet. It wasn’t until you had situated your roommate in the backseat of your car did you realise that she was only wearing socks herself. Oh well, shoes can wait right now. From the quick exam you were able to give, her appendix was set to burst soon if you didn’t do something, so shoes were the least of either of your worries.
You set off driving, placing your phone in the holder on your dashboard. It was a miracle it had still been in the pocket of your leggings and not discarded somewhere when you entered the apartment. You wouldn’t have thought to grab it again in the rush to get to the car.
”Hey Siri, call Ellis.” You speak to your phone as you keep your eyes on the road. Every few seconds your eyes flick to the rear view mirror to check in your roommate in the backseat, but aside from that your eyes never leave the road. No point getting into an accident before you make it to the hospital.
”Calling, Ellis.” Siri chimes and the ringer begins to buzz out.
”Come on.” You mumble. “Come on, pick up.”
”Sorry, the person you are trying to call is unable-“
”Siri, hang up.” You all but shout. “Call Shen.”
”Calling, Shen.” Your phone began to ring again on the dash board. You weren’t particularly religious, but in that moment you prayed to anyone you could think of that somebody would pick up. On the third ring the call connected.
”Hey Tiger, what’s up?” Shen’s voice filled the car. It was a stupid nickname really. On your second night shift rotation as an intern you’d squared up to a notoriously stern cardio doctor, the shouting match had been heard throughout the ER. The incident had landed you the nickname Tiger and needless to say it had stuck around in the years since.
”Look, Shen, I’m on my way into the ER with my roommate; query appendicitis. She’s in a bad way, thing feels ripe to burst. I’m gonna pull up in the ambulance bay, so can you have someone ready to bring her in? We’re about six minutes out.” You ramble off as you concentrate on driving.
”Shit, yeah. Okay. We’ll be standing by.”
”Okay, thank you. See you in a few.”
”See you soon.” Shen hung up the phone then, and the car was silent once again.
As promised Shen was waiting with Ellis and a gurney when you barreled into the ambulance bay. You had the where with all to pull up as close to the wall as you could get so that any incoming ambulances would not be impeded by your car, and you wouldn’t have to move it straight away. You stumbled out of the drivers seat whilst Shen and Ellis pulled open the back seat and dragged your roommate out onto the gurney.
”How long has she been like this?” Ellis enquired.
”I’m not sure. She was on the couch like this when I got home about fifteen, twenty minutes ago. She was fine when I left this morning, so anywhere within the twelve hour range.”
”Right, let’s get her inside.” She nodded, taking hold of one side of the rails to guide the gurney inside. You follow behind them as they march through the ambulance bay doors.
”Jack, what’s open?” Shen shouted as you stepped inside the ED, the air con basting against your cool skin from above. A shiver ripped through you and goosebumps marbled your skin at the sudden change in temperature.
”South 15’s free. What’ve we got?” Jack Abbot asked. You reel off your roommates name and age as you walk through the ED, as well as the reason you had brought her in. Jack looked at you then. Your face was still on your roommates, so you did not see the way his eyes cast down to your chest and quickly averted again when he realised what he’d just seen. The silhouette of two nipple piercings poking through your skin tight gym top.
Your roommate was put onto morphine, and labs were sent off to confirm a diagnosis. Just as you assumed, it was in fact appendicitis. She would be taken up to surgery for an appendectomy as soon as an OR was free. You were sitting by her bedside. Jack stepped into the room.
”Any news from surgery?” You asked him. His eyes could not find yours, they instead landed on the monitors by your friend's bed.
”Come on, walk with me and I’ll fill you in.” Jack smiled. You weren’t sure why you needed to leave the room, but regardless you stood from your chair and followed him as he walked through the ward. “Surgery said they should be able to take her within the hour, so they’re going to come down soon and get her prepped and take her upstairs.” He filled you in. He had walked you over to the lockers on the opposite side of the ED.
”That’s good. I wasn’t expecting such a quick turn around if I’m honest.” You sighed. “Where are you taking me?” You asked as he stopped by the row of lockers.
”Sorry, I just needed to grab something.” He smiled half heartedly. “Yeah, they’ve not been too busy tonight so your friend got lucky.” You watched as he punched in the code to his locker and retrieved a fleece jacket from inside. Oh, okay. Fair enough. The ED was a busy place and speaking to you was as good a time as any to retrieve something he needed. “Here.” He pushed the fleece towards you. You were confused. Why was he giving you his jacket?
”Thank you?” You questioned. “Sorry, what’s this for?” You took the jacket from his hand regardless.
”You, um.” He stumbled over his words. “Sorry, you just look cold wearing that.” You see the way his eyes flick downwards. In a second you follow them and realisation sets in. You took your bra off when you got home. You took your bra off, and you're wearing a skin tight gym top. You’re wearing a gym top that leaves nothing to the imagination in the ER where the air con is always blasting and now your nipples and the piercings attached to them are practically jutting out for the entire ward to see.
”Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” Your arms come up to cover your chest as your face blazes bright red. In an attempt to save your dignity you swivel around on the spot to face away from the night shift attending.
”You came in in a rush. I don’t think anyone will hold it against you.” He chuckles as you pull the fleece on and zip it up to the neck.
————————————————
Jack absolutely should not have been thinking about you. He should not have been thinking about the piercings beneath your shirt and the way he craved to see them outside of the confines of your shirt. It was wholly inappropriate, but every time he closed his eyes in the days following all he could see was the outline of those pretty buds, and the tantalising metal that lay across them.
Jack Abbot was not a believer in love at first sight, and you were a testament to that. You were someone who had snuck up on him. Quietly, slowly, until one day he realised that his whole world was orbiting around you and he couldn’t pinpoint when his center of gravity had shifted. He barely noticed you in the beginning. An R1 doing a compulsory night shift rotation. He’d traded his last intern off to the day shift for the month and gotten you as replacement, the same way he did every year. You were just another intern. If he noticed you at all it was in the way he noticed all of the interns who wandered onto his shift. He noticed the way your sleep was out of sync when you first began, the way you stumbled over your first few ‘weird and wonderful’ night shift cases as he liked to call them, the ones that truly took a minute to become desensitised to because how on earth had somebody done something so stupid? You were just another intern, barely on his radar outside of somebody to monitor and keep a steady eye on.
It was during your R2 year that you really began to register to him. You’d asked to switch over to the night shift for a period of time. Jack quickly found out that your mother was ill and your family needed the help at home whilst your father worked so you had agreed to switch to nights so that you could help back home in the day. It was slightly concerning to him, he had no idea when you slept, but you seemed to make it work. There were no tell tale signs of burn out, or that you weren’t getting enough sleep. So he let it slide, and if he gave you the easier cases to work on during your stint there then who was he to mention it? All too soon though you had become a part of his day, an integral part of the team. Your laugh across the ED could light up his mood, your childlike wonder at medical mysteries was infectious, and your poise in the face of ‘sensitive cases’ became a reference point he instilled in all his future interns. You were like a beacon of summer sunshine in the cold dark of the night shift, and you’d crept up on him like the first rays of morning.
Jack’s feelings towards you were a secret to nobody except yourself, something the rest of his team took great pleasure in ribbing him about. Something they were able to do quite easily now that you were firmly back on the day shift. Which was how they’d ended up here. Only two hours earlier he’d been talking to you by your locker, him just arriving and you on your way out, two passing ships in the night. That was how all of his shifts began now. A quick conversation about your shift, how the day had been, what your plans were for the rest of the night, and on occasion how your mothers health was holding up. He only got you in glimpses these days, and pined after you for the duration of his shift until your steady presence was back with him at hand over the next morning.
~~~
Ellis had a bad habit of leaving her phone on the nurses station. Jack had warned her multiple times that one of these days it was going to get stolen, but still every night without fail he would see it sitting there. He’d been in Trauma 2 with a nasty MVC accident. The patient was on their way up to surgery and he was tossing his gloves into the bin by the doors as he sauntered back over to the nurses station. He already knew the buzzing phone on the desk would be hers. The ringing died before he got to it though, oh well. Ellis could deal with whatever it was during their next lull. Except then another phone was ringing, from somewhere to his left. A coincidence surely.
”Hey Tigar. What’s up?” Shen spoke. Jack’s head turned. What were you calling Shen for in the middle of his shift? His eyes met Shen’s and he raised an eyebrow in an inquisitive manner, what could he say? Jack was nosy.
”Shit, yeah. Okay. We’ll be standing by.” Shen sighed. Jack waited for him to hang up before he spoke.
”Everything okay? Was that-“ His voice trailed off. If something was wrong with you, he didn’t want to think about it.
”She’s fine old man, chill. She’s bringing a friend in, recons it’s appendicitis. Says they’re about five minutes out.”
”Right.” Jack tried for nonchalant. “I’ll see what’s open. Grab Ellis and be ready when she gets here.”
”Yes boss.” Shen chuckled, shaking his head and wondering off. The tension left Jack’s shoulders then. It was okay. It wasn’t you who was ill or hurt. That put his mind at ease some as he found Lena and made sure there was a room ready on standby for when you got here.
”Jack, what’s open?” Shen shouted as he and Ellis reemerged into the ED, gurney in hand and you trailing behind. He had been trying to catch up on his charting, and desperately trying not to think about the fact that you would be walking through those doors any minute. Now here you were.
”South 15’s free.” He called out to them as he jogged over. “What’ve we got?” Doctor mode. Be the attending, he reminded himself. He could talk to you when they’d cleared your friend. It was only natural that his eyes would fall on you as you spoke. That is what we do when somebody is speaking. We look at them. What wasn’t natural was the way his eyes scanned down. Down to the stretchy nylon of your shirt that hugged your curves in all the right places, and in a cruel twist of fate showed off perfectly one asset of yours that Jack was not aware you possessed. There on either side of your chest, two little bars of metal that were poking through the soft fabric of your shirt. His breath hitched just a fraction. Ellis caught him. Of course she did. A smirk plastered on her face as his eyes met hers. Oh they were going to rip him a new one for this. Jack just grimaced and carried on walking.
~~~
“All I’m saying is that if there was a betting board on this, then that is not where I would have placed my money.” Jack heard Ellis laugh as he walked back over to the nurses station half an hour later. The labs had come back on your roommate and the diagnosis confirmed. They were now just waiting for a surgery slot to open up so that they could get her upstairs. She was stable for now and on morphine, so it was just a waiting game at this point. Jack had left you by her bedside. You were off shift, but he knew you’d want to keep an eye on her vitals whilst you waited.
”What are you two nattering about?” Jack sighed as he slumped down in his chair. Ellis was currently gossiping away to Bridget instead of charting or picking up patients. He ought to scold her for it, but the night had been pretty tame so he’ll let it slide just this once.
”Oh, just the pretty hardware your favourite resident is sporting.” Ellis smirked. “I know you spotted them too.” He didn’t need to look at her to know she was wearing a Cheshire Cat grin right now.
”I have no clue what you’re on about.” He mumbled as he typed in his work up for a patient he barely remembered the name of.
”Oh come on, cap! I know you saw them. Hell I think half the ER could have spotted those. I just never pegged our little tiger to be a piercings girl. Especially-“
”Okay.” Jack cut her off. He’d heard enough. “This conversation is wholly inappropriate to be having right now, and plus I think your labs are back on your patient in central 8. So why don’t you go follow up with that and leave the poor girl alone.” He pushed the chair back away from the desk and stood up, frustration coursing through him now. “I’m going to go get an ETA on surgery coming down.” He mumbled as he skulked off.
It was jealousy that was running hot through his veins. That wasn’t a mystery to him. The confusing part was jealousy over what? Jealousy that other people had seen them as well? That he hadn’t actually seen them at all, and he probably never would? That now he knew what was sitting there just below your top and he would never actually get to see them, touch them, know what they felt like in his mouth? You had just opened his eyes to a whole host of fantasies he never knew he wanted and he couldn’t have any of them. Now the whole of his team was talking about you, and in a twisted way he wanted this for just himself. He didn’t want them all to know, but he had no claim on you and he never would. Still he didn’t want anybody else to see. So he pulled you from the room and walked you over to his locker whilst he discussed your friend's condition. He had to put a stop to this, stop everybody from looking. They shouldn’t be allowed to look. He tried to keep his voice neutral as he punched in the code to his locker. You were still talking about your roommate, it was endearing how much you cared.
”Here.” Jack pushed his jacket towards you, tried not to think about you wearing something of his. He was just trying to protect your modesty here. You looked between the jacket and him, confused.
”Thank you?” You raised an eyebrow as you took the garment from him. Thumbing the soft fabric in your hand subconsciously. “Sorry, what’s this for?” The realisation hit him then. You didn’t know. Of course you didn’t. In the rush of everything going on you were more focussed on your friend than you were yourself. Of course you hadn’t stopped to consider what you were wearing right now.
”You, um.” He faltered. Jack didn’t want to embarrass you here. He wanted to choose his words carefully. “Sorry, you just look a little cold wearing that.” His eyes betrayed him by flicking downwards again. Grasping one last glimpse of those little metal bars poking through. Your eyes tracked his line of sight, and Jack watched as the look of horror plastered itself across your face.
”Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” It could almost be described as a squeal you let out as your cheeks bloomed bright red and your arms crossed your body to cover your chest. Jack would consider your reaction to be downright adorable if he couldn’t see the embarrassment written on your face. You spun on your heels before pulling his jacket onto your shoulders. He couldn’t hold back the chuckle any longer.
”You came in in a rush. I don’t think anyone will hold it against you.” He tried to soften the blow before you turned back around. God you looked pretty in his clothes
———————————————
Thankfully the rumour mill in the Pitt is ever turning and you only had to endure one snarky comment from Santos the next morning before something else had caught everybody’s attention. And needless to say it wasn’t even a bad comment from her. You had definitely heard worse from the R2 in the almost two years she had been in the ED.
”So, I heard a rumour from Ellis that you came in last night and gave the night shift a bit of a show.” She wiggled her eyebrows as you shoved your bag into your locker.
”Oh my god.” You groaned, dipping your head forward.
”No! I think it’s cool, seriously.” She backtracked. “I’ve been considering getting mine done for a while. I actually wanted your opinion.”
“On whether you should get your nipples pierced?” You asked. This felt like a trap, there had to be a joke coming here.
”Do they hurt? I mean I know they hurt, all piercings hurt obviously. Everybody says that nipples are one of the worst though. So what’s your opinion? Do they hurt?” You couldn’t help but laugh at that.
”Yes, they hurt. The second one hurts more than the first, because you know what to expect. Also don’t make the mistake I did, if you’re going to do it make sure you go when you don’t have anything else to do that day. I got mine on a whim before a six hour waitressing shift and was doubled over in pain the whole time. Those fuckers are sore for a good few days after you get them.” You giggle at the memory.
”Ouch, noted.” Santos grimaced.
”Yeah, that was not a fun shift. Also I was on with my creepy boss who kept asking me if I was feeling okay, and obviously I couldn’t tell him or he would have made some weird sleazy joke so I had to lie and tell him I had a migraine.”
”Girl, I feel you on the creepy boss.” Santos laughed.
”You best not be talking about me.” Jack smirked as he walked over to his own locker. You tried your best not to let the smile creep onto your face. Now that you weren’t fretting over your roommates health you could enjoy being in Jack’s presence again. To say you were harbouring a crush on the man was putting it lightly. You had been infatuated with him since your first night shift rotation in your R1 year, and your feelings had only steadily grown as you’d gotten to know him better over time.
”Okay, I am outta here.” Santos said before walking away again.
”No. Reminiscing on an old boss I had in college when I was still waitressing.” You chuckle.
”Ah.” He nodded his head “And what led you to that conversation?”
”Oh, Ellis told her about me coming in last night, and my-“ You pursed your lips and looked down. “-awkward wardrobe choice.”
”Hmm.” He hummed.
”She was grilling me about them, asking if they hurt to get. I was telling her not to make the same mistake I did and get them on a whim before a shift.” You filled him in.
”Well I think most people could have told you that.” He shook his head.
”What can I say? I was nineteen and kinda stupid.” You giggle. “Oh! I have your jacket by the way.”
”Nah, you can keep it. I think it shrunk in the wash, it fits you better than it does me.” The statement could have made you laugh, the jacket was visibly too big on you, with sleeves that needed to be pushed up over your hands and a hemline that fell around your thighs.
”Are you sure?” You asked, now holding it in your hand.
”Yeah, it’s yours.” And well, he didn’t need to tell you twice.
~~~
Three weeks later and your roommate was back to full health. You both had the day off work, and you had planned to go out that night to celebrate her newly removed appendix and her making partner at the law firm she worked for. She had tried to play the achievement down, citing that it was only a non-equity partnership and not full equity but that didn’t matter to you. It was still a huge milestone for her, plus you had no clue what the difference was anyway. In the end you compromised on going out for drinks at a local bar and keeping it ‘lowkey’.
You had been riffling through your wardrobe for a good fifteen minutes trying to find something to wear and you had come up empty handed. Who knew you actually needed more clothes than just hospital scrubs and old sweatpants and hoodies? Evidently, you didn’t.
”Hey!” You shouted through the paper thin wall of your bedroom. “Can I raid your closet for a top to wear?” You stood in the middle of your room and waited.
”Yeah, babe. Just come in!” She shouted back and you made your way over. You entered her room wearing just a brown leather mini skirt and your bra. “Is that the skirt you’re wearing?” She asked from where she was sitting on the floor in front of her mirror.
”Yeah, I never get a chance to wear it.” You nod.
”I think I have a top that will go perfectly with it actually.” She scrambled off the floor and began rummaging through her wardrobe trying to find the aforementioned top. With a gasp she turned around and presented to you a burgundy halter top with a plunging neckline. That was actually perfect. You took the top from her and threw it on. “Yeah, no, the bra’s coming off, you look like a middle schooler who can’t dress themselves.” She laughed as she gave you a once over.
”What do you mean?” You pouted looking in the mirror.
”You can’t wear a halter neck and have your bra straps out. Anyway your tits are nice! Show off those piercings.” She ribbed you. You considered it for a moment before conceding.
”Fine, whatever.”
The bar you had agreed to go to was about a ten minute walk away from your apartment. Which puts it about half way between your apartment and the hospital. That was fine, it was a Saturday night which meant that most of the people you worked with would be on shift tonight anyway, and the younger day shift group never came to this bar. They preferred to go out to clubs when they went out. The place wasn’t overly busy when you arrived, but it was lively. It took you a minute to find a free booth and sit down, your roommate leaving you there so that she could go and get you drinks. That was when you saw him. Sitting two booths away from you was Jack Abbot, with whom you could only assume were a few of his SWAT buddies.
”Oh, you’re joking.” You groaned and hid your head in your arms.
”What? What’s going on?” She asked as she slid in across from you.
”Behind you, two booths over. My fucking boss.” You hiss.
”No way!” Her eyes lit up. “Which one? The hot one you’re pining after or the other one?” You looked up just long enough to glare at her.
”Not the other one.” You huff. She cackles at that, catching Jack’s attention who looks over the shoulder of the people sitting between you and catches your eye. You flash him a courtesy smile and look back at your friend. “I hate you so much.”
Needless to say, the top you’d borrowed was drawing a lot of attention towards you. With its low cut that showed off your cleavage and your piercings that proudly pressed against the clinging fabric, it was definitely gaining you a lot of unwanted attention as you walked back and forth to the bar each time you needed a new drink. Namely the skeezy looking guy who was sitting across from you at the bar, and seemed to have no issue with just openly staring every time you went up there. It was making your skin crawl. The worst part of it all, you had reached the point in the night when you really wanted to go outside for a smoke. You couldn’t risk him following you out there, and you didn’t want to give up your seats if your roommate came with you. You were stuck at an impasse. Just as luck would have it though at that moment you saw Jack getting up and heading towards the bar.
”I’ll be back in a minute. I'm going out for a smoke.” You tell your friend and head towards the other end of the bar where Jack is standing waiting to be served.
”Hey. Sorry, I know you’re with people, and this is kind of a weird question, but will you come outside with me whilst I have a smoke?” You place a hand on Jack’s arm. “That guy down there has been staring at me all night, kinda giving me the creeps really, and I don’t want him to follow me outside if I go on my own.” You chuckle awkwardly.
”Why doesn’t your friend go with you?” He asked, eyeing your friend who was still sat in the booth.
”I don’t want us losing our seats.” You shrug. “Please?” You tack on looking up at him through your lashes. He just smiles at you.
”Yeah, sure, come on.” Jack’s hand came to rest on your lower back as he guided through the bar and towards the door. A quick glance over at your roommate as you passed and you shot you an obnoxiously oversized wink. She was teetering on the edge between tipsy and drunk, you were going to have to cut her off soon, but first you were going to enjoy this unexpected turn of events.
”Thank you.” You spoke first, back against the brick wall, cigarette dangling precariously from your bottom lip as you fished your lighter out of your purse.
”Well, I couldn’t let some creepy guy follow you out here and try and harass you. Especially when you look like that.” You don’t miss the way his eyes flick down to your chest. It took everything in you not to fold your arms across them, the cool night air was surely only exasperating the problem. You knew you shouldn’t have taken your bra off, straps be damned.
“Oh, god.” You groan, breathing out the plume of smoke that had settled in your lungs. ”This is the second time in a month you’ve seen me like this. I really hope you don’t think I make it a habit to go around braless in public.” You giggle. The alcohol was loosening your senses, making you bolder.
”You could make a habit of it if you wanted.” He shrugged in that flirty tone he sometimes used with patients. “I mean I don’t mind, but maybe not at work.” His eyes had gone dark, pupils dilating in the dark to almost completely cover the hazel you loved so much.
”Yeah?” You breathed quietly, taking a very sudden interest in flicking the ash off of the end of your smoke. You heard him take a step closer to you.
”Personally, I think you should get rid of every bra you own. Just never wear one again.” He was right in front of you, shoes almost touching. Your eyes were still on the ground.
”I mean that’s certainly one way to improve patient satisfaction scores.” You tried to joke. The sound of his laugh reverberated through you. “I think you might be a little bit drunk, Dr Abbot.” You finally looked up at him. His hand came to hold your waist, fingers pressed delicately against the sliver of skin between your top and skirt, as he ducked his head down to your ear.
”I’ve only had two beers.” His voice was low, it sent a shudder through you. His hand trailed up and down your side. “Can I?” He asked. You weren’t sure exactly what he was asking but you nodded all the same. He could do whatever he wanted. His other hand joined the first on the opposite side of your waist, both now trailing upwards until they were cupping the swell of your breasts. Your breath hitched. His eyes had never left yours. “Yeah?” He nodded at you, checking in.
”Yeah.” Having been given the go ahead his hands moved again, still cupped in place his thumbs moved to caress over your nipples. Still over your top, ever the gentleman, but you knew he could feel them and the metal beneath.
”I don’t think I have stopped thinking about these since you came into the ER that night.” He mumbled, as though he were more thinking aloud than talking to you at all. The sensation was feather light but your head tipped backwards against the wall nonetheless. The cigarette in your hand fell to the floor, half smoked and long forgotten now. “I had to give you my jacket because it was pissing me off that everybody else was getting to see them as well.”
”I can still give you that back if you want?” Your voice was breathy.
”No. I like seeing you wear my clothes. I want to see you wear it every morning when you come into work.” His face was against your neck now, speaking the words into the soft skin beneath your ear. He placed a tentative kiss there, then another and another, trailing down your throat, hands still firmly in place gave a light squeeze. The sensation kickstarted your brain, reminded you that you had hands of your own that could move or more correctly could move his. You placed your hand over his, picking it up and sliding it into your shirt, giving the go ahead for him to have a better feel. “Jesus Christ.” He groaned as he finally got to touch. The soft nub of your nipple contrasting the hard metal that stuck through it. His head dropped onto your shoulder, body fully slotted against your own, your own hands now grasping at the sides of his shirt keeping him there.
The sound of somebody clearing their throat to the left of you startled you to your senses. You and Jack turned your heads at the same time to find your roommate standing there awkwardly.
”I think I’m gonna call it a night and head back home. You don’t have to leave if you’re um, busy, but I’m going to head back.” She said, trying not to look at Jack, whose hand had thankfully left your boob, but was now kissing your neck again. The man really had no shame.
”Um, yeah. Okay” You gripped at Jack’s waist, he was making it really hard to think. “How are you getting home?”
”I’ll walk, it's ten minutes from here.” She rolled her eyes.
”No. Get a cab. If you’re going back without me I want to know you’re safe.” The logical part of you took over. You had seen far too many drunken accidents on walks back from bars and clubs come through the ED.
”Okay, fine.” She pulled her phone out and ordered an Uber. You turned your attention back to Jack.
”Wait. Stop, just stop a second.” You squeezed his sides to make him stop his trail of kisses and nips. His eyes found yours. “Let me make sure she gets in a cab okay.” You pressed your lips to his ear. “And then how about you take me home with you and I’ll let you see these for real.” The grin that spread across his face was worth a million bucks.
You can recolor / retexture my cc as long as you don’t include the mesh!
Do not share or re-upload my cc;
Don’t put my cc or retextures / recolors of my cc under any paywall;
Do not convert my cc to any other game (conversions for the sims 3 / sims 2 are allowed with proper credits given and as long as the conversions remain free at all time!)
You can recolor / retexture my cc as long as you don’t include the mesh!
Do not share or re-upload my cc;
Don’t put my cc or retextures / recolors of my cc under any paywall;
Do not convert my cc to any other game (conversions for the sims 3 / sims 2 are allowed with proper credits given and as long as the conversions remain free at all time!)
I thought I’d pay homage to the new game pack by releasing these 13 deliciously dark wallpapers. May they be a suitable backdrop to your Sims’ most sinister spells.
32 beautiful paintings featuring scenes from the English countryside in a lighter, antiqued frame. I bumped up the resolution so they can be upscaled nicely :)
