tags/warnings: 18+ mdni, contains written plot (!!!), potential ooc, swearing, innuendos/sexual comments & discussions, fluff, flirting, use of pet names, age-gap relationship, power dynamics, no use of y/n, vague discussions of violence & death, see masterlist for more detailed tags
author’s note: sorry i disappeared (i was sick) but i am back! hope you enjoy and don’t skip the written part after the texts!!!
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Spending the weekend at Jack’s house was a dream. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world staring at his toned and bare back as he cooked the two of you breakfast. You couldn’t help yourself as you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso and pressing your cheek against his shoulder blade. His hand that wasn’t holding the spatula came down to hold your forearm. “Mm hi baby,” he speaks out, morning voice perfectly raspy.
“Hi,” you reply as you press kisses on the freckles across his back.
“Breakfast is just about done,” he says. “Why don’t you grab our coffee mugs and head over to the table, I’ll be there in a sec.”
You do what he said, unwrapping yourself from around him as you step away (but not before giving his ass a quick squeeze).
Once you were sat down at the table it wasn’t long before Jack came over with the food. He had made perfectly scrambled eggs accompanied by sourdough toast and a hefty fruit platter (he knew fruit was your favorite breakfast food).
“Thank you,” you say, as he presses a kiss to your forehead before sitting down next to you. He reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear, looking you up and down as he does it.
“I love you in my clothes,” he says. You were wearing nothing but his tshirt and your underpants.
“Good because I’m stealing this,” you giggle out.
“What’s mine is yours sweetheart.”
Once you’re both done eating, you clean up the dishes together and then decide to lounge on the couch together. He sat up facing forward while you were sideways with your legs stretched across his lap, running your hand through the curls at the nape of his neck as he hummed softly in pleasure.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” you say softly, breaking the silence. Jack immediately pauses the TV and turns his head to look at, giving you his undivided attention.
“What’s up sweetheart?” His eyes stared into yours so earnestly, making sure there was no part of you that doubted he was listening. You found the slight furrow of his brows to be so incredibly endearing.
“Okay so I’m just going to try to get this all out at once,” you say with a big breath in, Jack nodding encouragingly at you while trying to mask the concern in his eyes.
“I think you should stop volunteering as a SWAT medic. Obviously I’m your girlfriend and I will support you no matter what, but I honestly just hate it. The entire time you were gone I was a mess just imagining you lying lifeless somewhere never coming home to me. I know your therapist said you needed something to do in your free time but you have me now. We can go on walks, take pottery classes, cook, read together, have sex, play tennis, sleep, whatever you want. Or you can do those things alone if you want some space. I just- I know we haven’t been together very long but I can’t imagine my life without you and the thought of you getting hurt kills me. I’m sorry I know this is so selfish of me to ask you but, I just can’t-” Jack suddenly cut you off by slamming his lips against yours.
At first you’re taken back by the sudden interruption, but soon you’re melting into the kiss and the feel of his warm palms against your cheeks. “Thank you for telling me how you feel, that was really brave of you and I appreciate it. I want you to know you can always talk to me, tell me anything,” he says, finally pulling away from the kiss.
“I’ll stop,” he says resolutely. You can’t help but widen your eyes a bit at how quickly he agreed. “Don’t do this just because I asked you too, if it’s something you’re really passionate about I can learn to live with it,” you reply.
“I appreciate that baby, really I do,” he answers with a soft smile. “But it’s not something I need in my life, medicine is my passion, not that. And the only thing I really need in my life is you. I know you struggle with your anxiety already, and I hate the idea of adding to that,” he says firmly. “Plus, I liked everything you were saying about the stuff we can do together. Tennis and sex sound fun,” he smirks.
You giggle in reply, playfully swatting his chest. “Thank you, Jackie. You’re the best boyfriend ever,” you say into his chest, having melted into his embrace.
“And you’re the best girlfriend ever,” he says. “I would do anything for you, anything at all.”
You both knew he meant it, and that you would do the same.
pt 3 of baby daddy!pope trying to get his family back
the drive back to your apartment was like deja vu, except now instead of being heavily pregnant and crying, you were sobbing along with your daughter scream crying from the backseat. your phone was blowing up from texts and calls from pope, begging you to come back and begging to talk to you. you had enough, shutting your phone completely off once back home. it was like you couldn't stop crying the whole time, silent sniffles as you fed your daughter and gave her a bath. you hated crying in front of her because you knew she fed off the energy that you put out so you always tried to put on a brave front for her.
once she was finally asleep in your bed where she really liked to be, you made your way into the bathroom. it was then that you finally got a good look at yourself in the mirror and holy shit did you look like a nightmare. hair a wild mess from the pool, makeup streaked all down your cheeks, and eyes bloodshot from the nonstop crying you had been doing. you couldn't help but laugh through the tears a little, knowing how insane you looked. again, it was like deja vu to the night you left the cody's for the last time, except pope was banging on your door begging to be let in.
it was like you were asleep, the banging ringing through your ears like a bad dream. except you weren't asleep. it wasn't a bad dream. someone was actually banging on your door. you sprinted through the apartment to your front door, not even crying anymore but pissed because you had just got sunny to go to sleep. you flung the door open without even checking through the peep hole, a sigh leaving your lips at the sight in front of you. there stood pope, looking like a beat puppy. "did you shut your phone off? i thought you were dead," he spoke immediately, his heart breaking at the sight of you standing there looking so disheveled. "don't bang on my door like that ever again. i just got her to sleep," you mumbled, going to shut the door but he was quicker, putting his foot in to stop it.
all you could do was sigh, turning to walk away because trying to win a fight against him seemed almost impossible most of the time and you were exhausted. his hand wrapped around your arm, forcing you to turn to face him. "you don't get to keep walking away from me. you've done it too many times," he spoke, his voice a bit shaky. he wasn't one to cry ever but you could tell he had been. the red of his eyes, the slight pink hue of his cheeks, and his curls a mess from running his hands through it so many times gave it away. a scoff left your lips, arm pulling from his grasp. "you're right, i have. you stood there and let your devil mother call ME a bad mom and didn't say a single thing. i have bent over backwards for our daughter, i let you see her whenever you aren't doing smurf's dirty work, i take her to all her appointments. i do everything for this child and still let you have your time with her," you hissed in a whisper, finger jabbing into his chest over and over as you made your points. you hated speaking to him this way, hated trying to make him feel bad, but the ship of protecting his feelings had long sailed. "sure, you pop in and play daddy once or twice a week at most. you give us money thinking that will keep me happy. but guess what andrew? im not happy. i want you doing these things with me but you're always too fucking busy," you spat with one final poke to his chest, arms coming back to cross over your chest as you finally looked up at him.
in your whirlwind of anger, you didn't even notice the bag he had brought with him now sat at his feet. the sight of it caused you to start laughing, probably looking like an insane person as you laughed and the tears began to stream. "you think you're staying here? think you're sleeping in my bed?" you smirked up at him, your foot moving to nudge the bag at his feet. he scratched the back of his neck, staring at you for a moment before reaching to pick up the bag and moving past you. he knew you had a hard time saying no to him, especially when it came to involving him being around sunny. "i won't sleep in your bed. i will sleep on the couch. let me stay for a few days. will get an apartment and out of smurf's," he mumbled as he moved past you to the couch, setting his bag down before he began to take off his jacket, turning back to look at you.
"oooo mommy is gonna be mad," you snorted at the thought of smurf waking up in the morning to realize her precious pope was gone. yes, it did warm your heart a little to know he was finally going to be out of her place, but he wasn't just out of the blue yet. "you don't get to waltz in here and think everything is just fixed. your family is what ruined us in the first place and it is happening all over again, pope," you spoke finally after a few moments of silence, turning to lock your front door. he hated when you called him pope. the entirety of your relationship he was always andrew. andrew, andy, my andy. he missed it so bad. the thought of him staying for a few days did excite you a little, sure, but it was only a matter of time before smurf was begging him for his help for a job that had a chance of him ending up either in jail or dead. "you and sunny are my family. you come first from now on. i want my family back," he spoke, his voice cracking as he spoke quietly to ensure he didn't wake your sleeping daughter who was just up the stairs. you shook your head, still standing at a distance from him. "we should have came first to begin with. this is our fucking child we are talking about. you have missed out on so much with not being here all the time," you hissed, your tone still sharp and mean. he finally sat down, hands running through his hair over and over to try and stop himself from letting any tears fall.
"i know that. i know. i beat myself up for it every day. you don't have to keep reminding me that i miss out, okay? i know that. i love my daughter more than anything in this entire fucking world and im going to prove that to you. i love you more than anything in this entire fucking world and im going to prove that to you," he said as he forced himself to look up at you, the tears finally falling down his cheeks. you were such a sucker for his puppy dog eyes and tears. a sigh left your lips as you moved to stand in front of him, frowning down at his teary face. all you wanted to do was wipe his face and hold him so tight but you stopped yourself. "i will let you stay. but that woman is not to step foot on this property. i swear to god, andrew if i find out she is even on this street i will kill her," you mumbled to him, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. he couldn't help but chuckle a little, knowing you couldn't hurt a fly let alone a grown woman. "don't laugh. im serious. you have to be out by the end of the week too and in your own place. a place that smurf does not have any reign over. i don't even want her knowing where you live," you continued on, fingers toying of the sleeve of his shirt you still wore.
in all your sadness and anger of the night, you hadn't even got the chance to eat or clean yourself up. suddenly you were so conscious of the state of yourself that a wave insecurity rushed over you and you could tell he took notice of it. "no smurf. i promise," he nodded, wiping his tears away as quickly as they fell. "i will be out by the end of the week. just please please do not walk away from me again. i can't take it anymore," he begged, his voice still in a whisper as he continued to stare up at you. a sudden cry from upstairs that came from your daughter snapped you both out of conversation, a small sigh leaving your lips as you turned to make your way up the stairs. he was quick to stop you, hand grabbing your wrist. "go get cleaned up. ill get her, yeah?" he spoke, rubbing your arm gently where he had just held it. you hesitated for a moment, looking up at the stairs as sunny's crying continued before back to him. all you could do was nod, a barely visible smile on your lips before he was pushing past you and making his way up the stairs.
your shower was spent silently crying, basically praying to whoever was listening that pope wouldn't go back into his ways. that he wouldn't disappear for days on end then return like nothing was wrong. all you wanted was your family back. when you finally got out of the shower, the apartment was eerily quiet, your daughter's crying no longer heard. it sent a chill down your spine. he wouldn't just run off with her would he? this wasn't a whole plan made by smurf to kidnap your daughter was it? you were slipping from your wet feet as you wrapped yourself in your towel, rushing to your bedroom where your daughter last laid. you pushed through the door, adrenaline racing as you swung the door open. there, like two perfect angels, slept pope with your daughter on his chest in your bed. all your nerves seemed to melt away at the sight, a small smile on your lips. you crept around your room not to wake them, quietly getting dressed. you were going to stick with the words you said to pope, you were not going to sleep with him. you had tip toed down the stairs, baby monitor in hand as you made yourself comfy on the couch.
you couldn't believe you actually gave your bed up to him and forced yourself to the couch. if that was what it took to get him to stay, you would sleep on the couch every day for the rest of your life. you knew he would probably throw a fit in the morning at the sight of you asleep downstairs but you didn't mind. he had never got the chance to sleep with sunny so you were finally going to give that to him. you wanted him to get the chance to see what he could have had these past two years. you wanted him to feel that guilt because maybe then it would get through his thick skull that his mother tore your family apart. the tv played softly as you dozed off on the couch, finally being able to fall asleep. you were already deep asleep, a phone buzzing and lighting up on the coffee table in front of you. the exhaustion from the day kept you asleep through the constant buzzing. your phone had still been shut off though so it had to be pope's. text after text continued to come through. it could only be from one person.
if you aren't back here by 10 in the morning i am coming to find you.
summary: jack doesn't appreciate hudson trying to sway your creative thinking.
**contains written plot - not proofread - 1.2k wc
desc: 18+ blog MDNI, pastry chef!fem!reader, reader is nicknamed pumpkin, head chef!jack abbot, maybe OOC characters, cursing, mentions of toxic/manipulative relationship
ch. 14 | ch. 16
a/n: i planned for this to end in 18 chapters.... im a big fat liar it feels like 20 now ooops <3
“I have a salmon risotto ready to fly to table 15. Santos! Your pasta primavera is getting cold— don’t make me go run it myself.”
Trinity grabs the plate and rolls her eyes at the busseling Jack, taking a few steps out of the kitchen and turning to whisper to Victoria who is cutting up more lemons.
“What the fuck has him wound up so much today?”
“I think he’s overcompensating.”
Victoria jerks her head for a quick motion to the kitchen, prompting Trinity to peek back through the small circle window. Scanning the limited view, she notices Jack stealing a quick look to his right, before ducking his head back down to chopping. As she follows his path, it leads her to the most obvious answer. You are standing on the other side of the kitchen, less chaotic, with Hudson’s arm wrapped over your shoulder. You were piping peaks of meringue on to chocolate pie, and Hudson was standing there— doing everything and nothing at the same time. He picks out a random plate, pushing it to the side and bringing an unfrosted mini slice of pie to you. Trinity unmistakenly reads the words ‘sloppy, do it again’ on his lips. The furrow of her eyebrows could have burned a mark into her skin. She huffs and turns herself away, trudging to the table with the unfortunately already cold dish in her hand.
Jack is just as peeved as Trinity. For the past week, every hour of the shift, he has never had a moment to steal away with just you. There is always something grabbing either of your attention— something that needs to come out of the oven or risk burning, or someone needing Jack to check quality and taste. Jack wondered if it bothered you just as much as it did him. He has been counting— closing in on 22 days since he has sat down with you and talked. Talk about what? Jack will literally take anything. How your day has been, how things have been at home, what sweet ideas you have been conjuring up in that mini green notebook. All he is able to get is a ‘hi’ and ‘see you tomorrow’ in passing.
Jack can’t force anymore out of you. Even though you have long forgiven him for the almond cake debacle of 2026— he can’t seem to shake this immense sense of guilt he has. And maybe he was feeling a little entitled. Jack has been here since the start of your time, fostering that confidence and creativity you developed over the months. He did all of that, and now here is Hudson. Stalking around and staking his place right behind you like he deserved that spot. From what he learned, Jack deserves to be there more than Hudson does. It feels shameful to share these thoughts, let alone have them. Who does Jack think he is, having a mini fit because you’re not paying as much attention to him as he wants.
The dinner rush is finally dying down, trickling down to only 5 more plates needing to be run before the kitchen starts closing for the night. He pats John on the shoulder, a metaphorical passing of the torch while Jack excuses himself over to your side of the kitchen. You are writing on storage bins the date since you had just filled them, and Hudson is only a few feet away handwashing the green standmixer. The one Jack graciously bought for you. As Jack approaches, he takes a long look at Hudson for once. Dark scruff and offensively perfect hair, the sweat that made it slightly damp somehow made it look better. He filled in that black shirt he wore and only had an inch of height on Jack. He wasn’t the same age as Jack, younger— he made sure to check. Yeah he’s gorgeous, so what.
For once, Jack felt the need to puff his chest out and look bigger. Men are like animals after all. With a hand supporting his weight on the metal counter, he takes a position next to you.
“Hey there stranger.” Jack says with a cheeky smile.
Those glimmering eyes of yours look up to him and return his smile. It makes something deep inside him ache.
“Hey Jack! Need help with something?”
“No, I actually wanted to check and see if you have anything new on the menu for me— us— the restaurant.” Damn freudian slip.
He notices how you look over your shoulder to Hudson for a quick second— who is so gracefully trying to put the mixer back together. You pluck the notebook out from the pocket of your apron and open it on the table. Flipping through several pages of scratched out and messy hand writting. It opens to a page with just random words strewn about.
“I know I haven’t had the time to actually try these out but they just pop into my head when I’m here but I think you would really like the hojicha tres leches. Hojicha is more nutty compared to matcha, which could give the cream a deeper profile. But I also like—”
“What are we talking about?” Fucking Hudson, butting in so perfectly and draping his arm over your shoulder.
He nods his head at Jack who nods his head back, and gives him the sickest smirk Jack has ever seen. Jack felt his chest tighten and his spine straighten. Crossing his arms over his chest and only dropping his smile into a straight line. Hudson peaks over at the notebook in front of you and lets a deep sigh.
“Pumpkin, sweetheart. I thought I told you not to bother the guy with that right now. He’s got a lot to do and so do you.”
“I asked her about them actually.” Jack is firm with his words.
“We were talking about the new ideas I had for desserts that I had written down. You know the hojicha tres leches?”
“Oh the one you were talking about at dinner?” Jack caught Hudson giving him a quick look. But that look spoke a thousand words. Haha I get to have dinner with her every night and you don’t. “Yeeeah… I thought I told you that might be too much for you to handle? And the customers.”
“It’s not that difficult, Hudson.”
“What about that raspberry cream puff we talked about.? You used to love making those all the time.”
“I can make cream puffs any other time Hudson, but—”
“And I’m sure Jack would want you to make something that everyone can enjoy. The people of Pittsburgh aren’t ready for hojicha, right Jack?” He looks into Jack’s direction again, feigning a considerate expression on his face.
Jack tried not to let his eyebrows knit together, biting so hard on the inside of his lip he was going to draw blood at any second. He hated seeing it in real time— the way Hudson treated your capability. Jack only heard the stories you told Trinity in confidence (which you don’t know that he knows), it was gutting to see it still play out in real time. Jack clenched a fist against the cold metal of the counter. Looking between you and Hudson; you slightly deflated.
Your creativity and confidence is so precious to Jack. It brought out the real and raw you that he had been so drawn to this entire time. The one he cared about deeply.
Curling his lips into its own smug grin, he looks Hudson right in the eyes. “Well last time I checked, two out of the three of us went to culinary school. I’ll find a good place to get hojicha.”
hi my lovelies i’m so sorry but there might not be a new chapter of my moon my man until next week 😔 i’m not feeling very well this week and haven’t been feeling up to writing; but once i feel better i’ll work on the next update for you all! lots of love and so sorryyyy ❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹
𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘’𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒. 𐙚⋆°🦢.⋆ᥫ᭡ — please give all of these incredible writers the love and support. 🍯 random fandom & character order, 18+ only please.
— part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten, part eleven, part twelve, part thirteen, part fourteen,
SUMMARY: When Phoebe's field day goes nowhere near as planned, Bella is left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart while Karis goes into labor and Jack and your father have a heart to heart.
WARNINGS: heavy angst in this one angels, parent abandonment, thoughts/feelings of unworthiness, tom, protective! Jack, mentions of foster care, some playful flirting and kissing, reader worrying that Jack is going to walk away.
A/N: a lot to unpack here, slightly longer than usual but honestly so needed. this is the second to last chapter of the series: the next part will be the final part and i am super sad about it. i cannot thank you all enough for all of the love and support you have given me and this series <3
PAIRING: Jack Abbot x Single Mom!Reader
WORD COUNT: 10.1k
PREV. PART — SERIES MASTERLIST
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
You don’t know much about cars.
You know how to drive, sure. You know which gas to get for your Honda, to get your oil changed every eight months, and you know how to change a tyre in case of an emergency, thanks to your dad.
What you don’t know is why your car is not turning on, why the engine is spluttering every time you try to start it. But you are very aware that it is not a good sign. If not by the noise alone, then by the deep furrow that’s setting between Jack’s brows.
“Pop the hood, I’ll take a look.” Jack says as he unclips his belt and opens the passenger side door, lets the cool air of the afternoon kiss your skin.
You press the button beneath the steering wheel, a small click sounding and Jack lifts the bonnet of the car until it blocks your view of him.
“Mommy, are we gonna be late?” Phoebe’s voice is nervous from the backseat, lips wrapped around a plastic straw as she chews on it, milkshake now empty.
You look at her through the rearview mirror with a reassuring smile. She’s dressed in a pair of pink shorts and a Pink Floyd t-shirt, sunnies resting on her nose and hair braided back. “No, baby. Jack’s gonna fix it.”
“Can’t fix it.” Jack appears at the passenger side again, lips curled in a thin line as he rests both forearms on the top of the car, leaning in slightly. “Gonna have to take it to a mechanic. Engine’s fucked.”
“Jack!” Phoebe quickly scolds him for the cuss word, and when you dare to look at her through the mirror again, she wears a furiously disappointed expression.
It’s something she’s picked up on since her little scolding two months ago, when she called Tom an ass. Not that you can really blame her, he’s been radio silent since you sent a few shitty messages expressing your anger.
Hasn’t shown up on the agreed days to see her, hasn’t even sent a message to check in. And despite it, you’ve still reached out to inform him of her field day today. Another one that’s been left on read and ignored.
Jack at least has the audacity to grimace, spluttering out an apology and offering you a sheepish expression. Your hands drop from the wheel with a sigh, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose.
“Can’t do it now, we’ll miss field day.” Jack shrugs, moving toward Phoebe’s door and tugging it open.
“I can get my guy to take a look tomorrow. I’ll drive us instead.”
You don’t know why you even allowed yourself to begin to stress. Of course, Jack will just drive instead. You blame your increased annoyance and stress levels on Tom because your resentment toward him has reached an all time high.
Phoebe hops out of your car when Jack unclips her, skips toward Jack’s which is quite literally parked beside yours. He’s already unlocked it and Phoebe gets herself into the back while Jack retrieves her carseat from yours.
It’s far too natural and practiced when he locks your car and carries Phoebe’s seat across to the back row of his vehicle. When he fastens it securely and buckles Phoebe in while you get comfortable in the passenger side.
Jack’s engine doesn’t rumble or splutter like it’s sick when he starts up. It purrs and vibrates to life and the aircon kicks in immediately.
You’ve always enjoyed watching Jack drive. His relaxed grip on the steering wheel, the focused set between his brows when he checks it’s safe to pull out and onto the road. There’s also something oddly sexy about the way his biceps flex beneath his cotton-shirt when he turns left with the palm of his hand.
You’re not exactly slick with your admiration, but Jack doesn’t comment on it. He does, however, shoot you a wide glance as a smirk curls at the corner of his mouth. It’s something he’s noticed a lot more over the past six to eight weeks; your seeming infatuation with his arms and muscles.
You’ve been favouring curling a palm around his biceps on walks a lot more recently, instead of intertwining fingers. Not ever something Jack will complain about. He welcomes the ego boost and reassurance that your attraction to him isn’t just for his personality and heart. It’s his old man looks, too.
And the more time that passes, the bolder you’re becoming with him. Jack doesn’t mean just sexually, he means in the gentle domestic way, too.
You’ve relaxed more when it comes to him and Phoebe, like you’re finally understanding that Jack doesn’t plan on going anywhere. He’s been spending the night more often than not; settling Phoebe to bed with you of an evening, and comforting her in the middle of the night when she’s startled awake from a nightmare.
Or more recently, growing pains in her shins.
Jack’s found his footing in this little family, has grown comfortable in the warmth of your home and hearts. For months, Jack’s worried about overstepping, of being too present. But when you didn’t ask him to come to Phoebe’s school field day—when you just assumed he’ll be there—Jack realized what this was becoming.
“Jack, your music isn’t on.” Phoebe whines from the backseat.
He casts a glance at her through the rearview mirror, grins at the disappointed pout on the kids lips and reaches into the cup holder for his phone. With his eyes back on the road, he passes it to you silently.
The screen lights up, his lockscreen a photo of Phoebe stuffing her face with pancakes when the three of you went for breakfast a few weeks ago. There’s a dull ache that forms behind your heart at the sight of it, at how openly he loves her.
You swipe the screen up, typing in his password and making your way to the Spotify app. When you go into his library, there are only three playlists. The first is your Sunday Funk Day mix, the one he asked you to send him almost seven months ago when you were only in that odd texting stage.
The second one has no playlist cover, a generic title of My Playlist.
But the third one, it takes you a moment before you can click on it.
My Divas.
The playlist cover is a photo of you and Phoebe asleep on the couch, cuddled up under a knitted blanket with mouths agape and heads lulled back.
When you click into it, you’re met with a list of songs that tally up to 8 hours and 39 minutes of playtime. You hit shuffle, let the music flow through the cars stereo system. Phoebe’s quick to sing along to the familiar tune and you take a moment to scroll through the list.
Half of the songs are from your own playlist…the other half, you come to realize, are songs that remind Jack of you and Pheebs.
You can feel yourself growing warm, can feel a tender sensation wrap around your bones and you lock Jack’s phone, tucking it back into the cup holder.
It’s been on your mind for longer than you’d like to admit; the change between you both, the heaviness and overwhelming feeling you get in your heart when it comes to Jack.
But you don’t say anything, even if that feeling does bloom across your chest with each day that passes. Instead, you sing along with them both. You dance in your seat and let the sound of Jack and Phoebe’s laughter wash over you.
Let yourself understand and accept for the first time, that this may be your forever.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
Your palm curls around Jack’s bicep as you walk across the field, a laugh barking out of you as the sound of Phoebe’s loud excitement follows you across the grass. The moment you had taken her to her classmates and dropped her bag and water off with her teachers, she rushed over to her friends and didn’t even offer a second glance at you or Jack.
It didn’t matter how many times the both of you called out to her, she wasn’t having any of it.
“She’s gonna be exhausted after this.” Jack comments with a fond tone, cocking his head down just enough to grin at you.
You meet his gaze with the same expression, squeezing the muscle of his arm and practically skipping in step with him. “Hm, maybe she’ll actually sleep through the night, then.”
Jack hums, leaning down just enough to press a kiss to the top of your head while still walking toward the rest of the parents across the various tracks and equipment set up for the kids.
“Tony will come by tomorrow morning when I’m back from work to take a look at the car.”
Your brows knit at his words and you turn to him again, still walking toward where you’ve spotted your parents and friends.
“You’ve already spoken to him?”
Jack hums. “Shot him a text when we got here. Said I’ll meet him out front at nine.”
You watch him for a moment, blinking at this capable, honest, strong, observant, sexy man that you somehow get to call your boyfriend. One of the only men that hasn’t disappointed you—a man whose actions always match his words.
And it’s entirely inappropriate for you to feel so hot about it given your surroundings.
Just like everything else when it comes to you, Jack notices. The heat that sits at the apples of your cheeks, the slight heaviness that passes over your eyes, the slight dents your fingernails mark in his skin when you grip his bicep a bit tighter.
He stares down at you with a secret smirk and a quirked brow, amusement licking at the gleam in his eyes.
“Yeah? That gets you going, baby?” His voice is a low murmur, deep, teasing, and only loud enough for your ears alone.
You suck your bottom lip between your teeth, dig your nails into him a little harder. “Shutup. It’s sexy when you fix things…when you take care of things.”
A dark, breathy chuckle escapes him and his voice lowers even more when you grow closer to your parents and friends. “That right? Just things or you?”
You dare a gaze up at him from beneath your lashes. “Both.”
His grin turns borderline sinful when he gently unwraps your palm from around his arm and gently pushes you to walk in front of him with his hand on your lower back, squeezing through groups of families to reach your own.
His body is pressed against the back of yours as he keeps close, and when you’re out of the thick of the crowd, Jack leans down to line his lips with your ear, his stubble grazing deliciously at your jaw.
“For what it’s worth, it’s sexy when you let me.”
“Honey! Jack!” You’re given no time or chance to recalibrate your mind when your mom is calling out to you both, waving her hands as if you can’t see her from just twelve feet away.
Jack squeezes your hip, the bastard, and waves back animatedly to your parents. As if he hasn’t just riled you up or short-circuited your brain.
He jumps straight into conversation with David and Ricky, like he’s known them for years. Talking about what, you’re unsure but somewhere mid conversation with your mom, you notice Jack showing off his prosthetic in his khaki shorts.
It’s midway through Phoebe’s egg and spoon race that Karis comes hobbling over with Bella. The former holds water while the latter stuffs a hotdog into her mouth like it’s the only sausage she’s found enjoyment in for years.
“You should not be here, you’re a week overdue!” You greet Karis with a playful scold and she grins in return, spare hand caressing her overly swollen bump.
You reach for it the moment she’s close enough, palms cupping the fabric of her sundress in hopes of feeling a kick.
“Jack’s here, so if I go into labor I should be fine.”
The unexpected joke pulls a laugh out of you, bright and genuine and incredibly amused. Before you can make a joke back about your own incident with your pelvic exam, shouts of angry encouragement sound from beside you.
“Come on, Phoebe!”
“Take her out, Diva! Keep fucking going!”
Chloe and Leone are red in the face, far too invested as you follow their line of sight to find Phoebe almost sprinting with a spoon in front of her, tediously balancing an egg in the dip of the utensil.
She approaches one of her classmates, hot on her heels and passing her just at the finish line.
“Good job, kid!” Her head whips around at the sound of Jack’s voice calling out to her in praise, the smile on her face enough to light up a dark room.
“I did it!” she screams across the field, jumping in her spot as she holds the spoon and egg in the air.
Prue cackles out a laugh as she videos her granddaughter, laughing louder when Florence races to Pheebs to tackle her in a hug to celebrate.
Bella snorts from beside you, muttering something about the pair of them being nothing but trouble makers when they’re older. The thought makes you feel proud and sick at the same time.
You hear Jack’s laughter when the girls start dancing, and when you look across your little group, you find him with his camera facing them, a grin on his face and pride in his eyes.
The sun beats down on him, casting his skin golden, caressing his freckles, brightening his splatter of grey hairs and glinting off the metal of his leg. For once, Jack doesn’t notice your admiration, doesn’t feel your presence grow closer and closer until you’re by his side.
The moment he does, it’s instinctive for his arm to snake around your waist, to pull you into him while keeping his attention on Phoebe and Florence.
“She’s having so much fun,” he says softly.
You hum, watching as Flo runs off for her next course and Pheebs remains in her spot, chugging half a bottle of water and picking flowers from the grass.
“Thank you for coming.”
Jack looks down at you with a frown at your words, pocketing his phone to turn to you fully; both hands on your hips as you reach to wrap your arms around his neck.
“Baby, you do not have to thank me for showing up for Pheebs.” He wants to say that it’s his job, that he couldn’t imagine not being there for her for anything, ever. You can tell as much by the hesitancy that flashes across his eyes.
“I know,” you say quietly. “But I want you to know that I notice. I see everything you do for us, I—we—appreaicte it, appreciate you.”
Jack’s gaze softens into something tender and understanding. A hand abandons your waist to cradle your jaw, his thumb soothing across your cheek and you go boneless in his hold. It causes a surge of something hot to swarm Jack’s heart.
Because Jack doesn’t think he’s ever done anything overly special or out of the ordinary for either of you. And yet, you gaze up at him like he’s personally hung every star in the sky.
“I don’t show up to be appreciated, I do it because I lo—”
A nervous call of your name cuts Jack off before he can say it. Both your heads turn to your dad, whose eyes are focused and hard on the field behind you.
You don’t have any time to dwell on the thumping of your heartbeat, to push for Jack to continue whatever he was going to say. Because when you follow your dad’s line of sight, Phoebe is toe to toe with a boy in her class and her fists are tight at her side.
You watch in anxious fury when the little blond boy steps closer into Phoebe’s space, but she doesn't back down. She continues to frown, to hold her own with her chin held high.
The kids lips are moving, snickering but none of you can make out what’s being said. Whatever it is, it makes Pheebs laugh, which in turn seems to make the kid angrier. You feel movement from beside you; Jack itching to cross the field and sort the issue himself, but you reach a hand for his arm to stop him.
“Just give her a second.”
He blinks, but does not argue, returns to your side while David watches from your other.
When the boy puts his hands on Phoebe’s shoulders and shoves, your blood roars angry and Jack is struggling to stay beside you. His own fists are curled, eyes scanning the crowd for the boy's father.
He almost misses when Phoebe quickly finds her balance and shoves the kid back with even more force, knocking him on his ass. A prideful grin curls on Jack’s face, and he’s struck with two thoughts.
One immediate, the other sobering.
His first thought is that the idea of someone hurting his little girl is enough to make him feral. To screw the oath he took when he became a doctor and to inflict as much harm as humanly possible to anyone that poses a threat to Phoebe.
The second thought comes a second too late after the first. Realization catching him deathly still. His little girl. How easy it had been to call her that in his mind, to feel that way about her. How quickly he was willing to go against his oath and word and character.
His little girl.
His little girl.
His little girl.
It sobers him enough to realize just how deep he’s fallen. What little right he actually has to consider her as such. His inner panic is lost on you, your gaze still set on Pheebs, a grin of pride on your own face at how well she handled herself.
Jack looks back across the field, watches the way she sticks her tongue out at the little boy before walking away and lining up for the relay race. She’s so much like you that it hurts Jack’s heart.
Your smile, your resilience, your strength and your humor. Phoebe has become such a prominent little figure in Jack’s life now. To the point that if, for whatever reason, things don’t work out between the two of you, he could never imagine turning his back on her.
He’s already made it clear that this is not casual. But now, Jack is met with the very real epiphany that he wants this to be his forever. That he needs to be there to watch Phoebe grow like every father does for their daughter.
That he will do anything to be offered the privilege of being whatever type of figure you’ll both allow him to be.
“That’s our girl.” The words fall from yours and David’s mouth at the same time, wearing far too identical grins for a father and daughter through choice and not blood.
Jack swallows thickly, looses a shaky breath when he feels a warm gust of air caress the side of his face—one he now associates with his late Mary.
Reassuring him, soothing him.
Too caught up in his mind, he doesn’t notice your phone pinging consistently from your back pocket, or the dejection that plasters its way across your face. It’s only when you’re resting a palm on his bicep and holding out your phone to him that you catch his attention.
“I'll be right back. Can you take some photos of Pheebs?”
He hums, takes the phone and puckers his lips when you lean up to kiss him. Jack doesn’t watch you walk away, gets the camera ready instead to record Phoebe’s next race as you excuse yourself.
Tom’s text still echoes in your mind.
Can you meet me in the parking lot?
There’s a horrible feeling in your gut. One that promises he’s about to ruin Phoebe’s day with his presence alone. Part of you wonders if he’s seen Jack’s car here instead of yours and is about to refuse to show up unless you make Jack leave.
When you approach the parking lot and spot Tom leaning against the bonnet of his Audi, you throw your hands up at your sides in both annoyance and exasperation.
“You ignored me for two months and now you can’t even show your face at your daughter's field day?” you call out across the short distance.
But as you grow closer, stopping just a few feet from him, Tom doesn’t look angry or resentful. It’s so much worse than that. He looks…regretful. Sad.
“I didn’t want her to see me.”
Your brows pinch involuntarily at the sombre sound of his voice. It’s a tone you don’t think you’ve ever heard from him before and you can’t put your finger on it but it’s leaving you very unsettled.
“What’s going on?” Your voice is careful, tedious.
Tom’s hands are shoved into his jean pockets, shoulder dropping as he blows out a heavy exhale of air. He doesn’t look at you, keeps his gaze locked on the tarmac beneath his feet.
“I think I need to take a step back.” Tom lifts his gaze to yours and for the first time in years, you can see the pain in them.
“I’m not—” he exhales shakily, pulls his hands out of his pockets to run them down his face. “I’m not cut out for this. Being a dad.”
You blink at him, feel your heart stop in your chest before it begins to ache; like it’s being dragged down to the pit of your stomach.
“What are you saying?” Your tone is hard, voice close to trembling from the anger and heartache.
Tom remains silent for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Like the coward he is, he averts your gaze again, focuses on the way his shoes scuff at the ground.
“I’m saying that I think I need to step away. For good. I never wanted kids, Y/N. When you told me you were pregnant with Phoebe, that didn’t change for me. I’ve tried to be a dad, but it’s just not the life I’m supposed to live.”
You can feel your blood rushing in your ears, can feel an ache in your fingertips as he speaks. You’re stunned, unable to articulate your thoughts fast enough to compose a sentence.
...It’s just not the life I’m supposed to live.
You stare at him, at the man you once loved, the father of your child. There’s a ringing in his ears as he continues speaking. Talking about his dreams to travel and explore, how Phoebe does not fit into any narrative of the life he’s created in his head. In any of the plans he’s made for his future.
Your throat grows tight in anger and resentment, in pure, unadulterated hate.
Because you changed your life and your dreams to fit around Phoebe. You consider her in every single decision you make, in every tiny thought you have. You’ve sacrificed sleep and relationships and opportunities for her.
Because that’s what a mother does. It’s what a parent does.
And here Tom is, making it loud and clear that he does not want her. That he doesn’t want to be her dad, he doesn’t want her in his life. That Phoebe is nothing but a burden to him, something that he never asked for.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Your voice is tight with fury when you finally manage to speak. “I have given you every out possible! I never forced this on you, I asked you several times to just fucking walk away. But you just couldn’t take the thought of us doing well without you. You sit there and you disrespect me, you talk shit on Jack– who, by the way, has been more of a father to her than you ever have—”
“I know!” Tom’s voice raises into a shout, one full of his own anger and hatred. You refuse to shrink away from it, from him.
“She deserves Jack. You deserve Jack. He is a good man and I fucking hate it.” Tom spits the words with so much venom it makes your blood boil and you can’t help but scoff.
“Is that what this is? Because of Jack? You’re threatened by him?” Your voice rises with every word. “You’re going to walk away from your daughter because another man is more of a father to her than you are!?”
Tom clenches his jaw, jerks his head to look away from you; a tell sign that he’s trying to calm himself down, and it’s absolutely fucking pathetic.
But he doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t argue that that’s not the case, doesn’t push to try to be better for her, or to offer any other reason besides the selfish life he’s carved himself.
You swallow down the bile that’s rising up your throat. “If you walk away from her now, you are not welcome back. Not ever, and I fucking mean that, Tom.”
He nods to himself, stands with his hands still tucked into his pockets. “I’m not on her birth certificate so I don’t have any legal rights as a father. But if you want to speak with the courts so it’s all legit, we can. Let me know.”
You stare at him in astonishment, your breathing ragged and vision blurring as Tom rounds the bonnet of his car to get into the driver's side. He doesn’t offer you another glance when the engine starts and he pulls out of the parking lot.
You’re still staring at the empty space after he’s gone. Unable to truly process what the fuck has just happened, how absolute he is in his decision to walk out on Phoebe. His daughter, his blood.
Your movements are mindless and subconscious when you trek back to the field, silent streams of silver that glisten on the warm skin of your cheeks. It doesn’t matter that he was absent anyway, it doesn’t matter that all he’s ever done is disappoint…what matters is that he has never loved Phoebe.
That your sweet girl is going to grow up wondering why she was never good enough for her own father. A feeling you’re far too familiar with and something you never ever wanted her to experience.
Jack’s the one that notices your return first. A cheer halting from the back of his throat as Pheebs wins another race when he catches sight of you. He moves quickly, eyes wide with panic and concern at the pure shock and devastation on your face.
“Honey? What’s wrong? Hey, what happened?”
His palms are cupping your face with a ghost of a touch, not wanting to crowd you but needing to help you snap out of whatever the fuck is going on. The moment you feel his skin on yours, when his scent and comforting presence envelops you, a sob tears through the back of your throat.
He wipes away the tears as quickly as they fall, shushing and cooing and trying to get you to breathe. The sound of your cries and Jack’s slightly panicked tone is enough to catch the attention of the others.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“Where did you go? What happened?”
No one touches you but Jack. But your parents stand beside him, Bella too while Karis, Ricky, Leon and Chloe stand back in worry and concern.
Your friends have been with you since highschool, have watched you through your biggest highs and your lowest of lows. The only other time they’ve ever seen you so distraught is when you lost your fiance.
It breaks their hearts.
“Tom was in the parking lot.” You take a breath, struggling to wipe away your tears.
You feel Jack grow tense at the mention of him and his presence, watch his gaze turn from panic to fury and can tell just by the look on his face that he’s trying to calm down and not cause a scene.
Prue watches with concern, finally finds herself reaching out to rub a gentle hand up and down your arm. David, however, shares the same cold expression as Jack, and he reaches for him with a hand on his shoulder—a silent vow to promise he’ll beat Tom’s ass with him.
“He’s uh…he’s gone.”
Your mom blinks, shakes her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“He’s walking away,” your voice is hoarse. “He said he’ll contact the courts if needed to resign his parental rights over Phoebe.”
“What?” Jack’s breathless reply is all he can muster up. He can feel his heart sinking to his stomach, the shock and heartache for Phoebe tingling in his fingertips.
You barely notice movement from your side, don’t turn your head to see Bella stomping off toward the parking lot, don’t hear Karis sending Ricky to follow. But you do hear the cry that slips from your mom, the way she reaches for your dad in comfort.
Because they know what this means for Phoebe. The upset and anger that you went through as a kid toward your biological parents for walking away, is something she will now no doubt struggle with.
It’s the same thing that’s replaying in your mind, in Jack’s too. It’s enough for him to wrap you in his arms and coddle you to his chest, to cup the back of your head with one hand while the other attempts to soothingly stroke up and down your spine.
“You are everything that she’ll ever need, okay? She has us. She’ll never not have us.”
His hold on you is nothing short of secure and safe. A silent promise alongside his words that he is not going anywhere.
She has us. She’ll never not have us.
Jack pulls away just enough to get a look at you, to wipe the remnant tears from your pretty face.
“I know she’s better off without him and he has never once been consistent, but I gave him so many chances to walk away, Jack. I told him to leave before she was old enough to understand…”
“I know, baby. I know.” His palms rest on your shoulders, a firm sort of massage to do anything to try and help the tension in your muscles.
David watches with an ache in his chest, rubbing at the spot with a wide palm like he’s physically pained by the situation. His eyes flicker from you to Bella and Ricky who rejoin the group, shaking their hands that Tom wasn’t there for them to tear into.
Jack lets his gaze stretch across the field, checking that Phoebe is still okay. She’s none the wiser to the situation, happily skipping through another race where Chloe and Leone have moved closer—most likely to keep her distracted if she looks over and spots the commotion.
When Jack turns back to you, you’ve wiped your face and appear somewhat more composed on the surface. But he can read you like a book; and he can see the hurt and pain you’re struggling to bury in your eyes.
“I’ll call in tonight, okay? I’ll get Shen to cover.”
Guilt hits you almost as hard as the hurt and you’re shaking your head before he can finish getting his words out. “No. Work is more important, they need you there.”
He wants to argue otherwise, you know he does. That you are more important right now, that Phoebe is. If his job wasn’t so crucial, you’re ashamed to admit you’d allow him to call in sick, that you’d be selfish enough to ask him to stay with you.
“Hey,” Bella interrupts gently with a soft hand on your arm. “I’ll stay over tonight. The girls can have a sleepover.
You don’t even consider refusing Bella’s offer. Not because you prefer her comfort or company over Jack's, but because this is something you expect from your best friend. Because you’ve both done it for one another so much over the years. Because you are aunts to one another’s daughters.
But Jack is just Phoebe’s moms boyfriend. If her own biological father can’t stick around and show up for her, how can you ever expect Jack to. It’s an unfair expectation to have. One that, perhaps you’re not entitled to.
And he can see it. The thought process as Bella offers herself to you for the evening. He watches all the progress you’ve made together go backwards—watches you sink back into those feelings of unworthiness, of being too much.
Jesus Christ, it breaks his fucking heart.
And when you nod at Bella through teary eyes and an appreciative smile, he doesn’t even get to pull you aside to talk you down from this undeserving ledge. A gasp sounds from behind you the moment he tries to reach out, and everyone's attention is diverted to a slightly pale Karis and the burst of fluid that’s drenched the grass beneath her feet.
“Karis…”
“I’m sorry, I think my waters just broke.”
It’s entirely accidental and completely clumsy when Ricky gently tries to shove through everyone to get to his wife, tripping over his feet and pale in complexion. He doesn’t touch her when he reaches her, hands frozen at his sides as he stares at the wet ground.
“Okay, uh, we should go…” He sounds so unsure of himself, nothing like the usual Ricky you’ve come to know and love.
For a split, selfish moment, you forget about everything else around you. It’s shoved to the back of your mind as you watch one of your bestest friends about to become a mother. The hurt and anguish is momentarily replaced with overwhelming joy and excitement.
But it all comes crashing back to you when you watch Ricky hold Karis so tenderly, when he peppers kisses to her temple and they grin at one another when the shock turns into excitement. It’s a feeling of anguish and envy because that was not the experience you had.
Tom did not hold or caress you when your labor started. He didn’t breathe with you through contractions, did not hold your hand or reassure you when Phoebe stopped moving and her heartrate began to drop.
Because Tom didn’t show up. He wasn’t there for any of your appointments, never listened to Phoebe’s heartbeat as she grew. He declined every one of your calls when you tried to tell him you were going into labor, declined your fathers when he tried to update him that you were going for surgery, that there was a possibility that Phoebe wouldn’t make it.
It makes you feel sick to feel so envious of Karis’ happiness in this moment. She deserves the love and support. She deserves for her birth to feel magical and precious. You didn’t deserve the fear and loneliness of yours, even if your mom was with you.
But more importantly, it makes you realize that the only thing Tom has ever offered Phoebe is confusion and instability.
And Jack watches it all like he can see every thought flash across your eyes. The hurt and pain, the mix of envy and happiness.
He doesn’t say anything as he reaches for you, as he tucks you against his chest and rests his chin on the top of your head. But your arms circle his waist and your nuzzle into him, loosing a heavy breath.
“It’ll be okay, honey.”
The certainty of his reassurance pierces through your heart. And despite your worry that one day Jack could decide to just up and leave, too, you still let yourself wonder why it couldn’t have been him.
Why you couldn’t have met him sooner, why he couldn’t have been the one to hold your hand and guide your breathing through contractions. Why he couldn’t have been the one to cry with you in surgery. Why he couldn’t be Phoebe’s father.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
Phoebe and Florence grin at the camera, three trophies stuffed under their arms and one silver medal hanging from their necks. Their cheeks are flushed, hair windswept and knees grass-stained, but they both beam with so much happiness and pride.
“Hold still…” You manage to snap three photos before Phoebe drops the proof of her achievements and races to the kitchen for food, Florence’s footsteps just as loud and urgent as she follows.
“No running in the house!” Bella calls after them, nursing an iced tea as she lounges at the kitchen island in Prue and David’s house.
The girls giggle as they climb to sit at the island with her, chugging their plastic cups of water and stuffing cucumber sticks in their mouths. Your mom watches in fondness, cutting sandwiches into small triangles and placing them on an oval platter.
“Lunch before playing in the yard. You strong girls need your energy before playing.” She says it in the most lovingly stern voice she can muster, but everyone knows she’ll cave the moment the girls batter their lashes and compliment her hair.
Smart girls. They’ve got Grandma sussed.
Jack places the trophies back on the counter, watches in astonishment as the girls eat half their weight in sandwiches and veggie sticks (something that is usually a battle for Pheebs), and then race out to the backyard to play in the Wendy house.
The moment they are out of earshot, all eyes are turning to you and you fucking hate it.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Honey…” Your mom softens, reaches across the island to brush her fingertips against yours.
You pull away with a shake of your head. Not because her comfort isn’t welcomed, but because if you accept it, you’ll crumble. And you don’t want to cry anymore because of Tom, because of what he’s done to Phoebe.
“No—I… he’s never been a father to her. Never showed up when it matters, never cared enough to put her first. I’m just—angry. So fucking angry and tired and—”
Your dads arms wrap around you the moment you crumble, and he holds you like you’re a teenager again; angry at the world and confused and lost.
It feels the same to him, like he’s comforting his little girl, trying to protect her from the evil of the world. But you’re not a little girl anymore, and this is not something that he can protect you from. But he holds you tight, anyway. Lets you cry into his chest and lets you sink because he will always catch you.
David’s chin rests on the top of your head when he casts a glance at Prue, who’s covering her trembling mouth with her palm. Bella, who cries silently because while Florence’s dad has never been in the picture, at least he had the decency to walk away before it began.
And when David looks toward Jack, he holds you tighter. Jack’s eyes are set on the kitchen counter, knuckles white as he grips the corners, jaw set tight and eyes rimmed with tears.
The sounds of your cries and sniffles tear his chest apart. In his forty-four years of life, he has never felt such anger, never been riddled with so much hate and disgust for one person. And David can see it in his eyes, can feel those emotions rolling off him.
He presses a kiss to your forehead as he pulls away and lets you have a moment to wipe your tears. The movement catches Jack’s attention and he turns to David, nose twitching as he tries to reign in his emotions.
David nods his head briefly to you, a silent command that you need him right now and he doesn’t hesitate. Jack pushes off the counter to move toward you, to stand at your back and place steady hands on your shoulders, to lean down and press a tender kiss to your temple.
Your shoulders drop at the feel of him so close, like a blanket of safety and comfort has been draped over you. One hand comes up to rest on his; your fingertips tracing his knuckles as your head falls back against his chest with another sniffle.
“She is going to ask questions,” David says softly. “You did, too. But you have time before that happens. Time to decide what truth you want to tell her.”
You nod as you exhale shakily, fingers wrapping around Jack’s and you squeeze one another in a desperate need of reassurance.
“But you listen to me good, kid. You are a phenomenal mother. You have sacrificed so much for your daughter, you have shown up for her every day and you have never once put a single thing before her. You are all she has ever needed and all she ever will.”
Your father stares at you with so much love and adoration and respect that you don’t quite know what to do with it. To have made him as proud as you have…it has tears burning at your eyes again.
And you believe him. You are a good mother, you will always put Phoebe before anything, but you have not done it alone. You’ve had your parents by your side every step of the way. Had Bella and Karis, Chloe and Leone.
And now, Jack.
Your sweet, incredible Jack. Who has never once complained when you’ve had to cancel a date. Who has always considered Phoebe and planned dates to accommodate her. Who has come into her life and stayed, never once disappointing or not showing up since the moment they met.
Jack, who loves Phoebe with every fibre of his being.
And when David’s eyes flick up from yours to meet Jack’s, his head nods in something subtle. Like a silent way of saying, you too, the both of you is all she needs.
“Now, we are not going to cry anymore. I am going to make my grandbabies some popcorn and we are going to forget about that little asshole.”
He calls the girls in while everyone else wipes away their tears, makes a show of getting out a pan for popcorn and when you catch Jack’s gaze, he tilts his head toward the yard in silent invitation.
The air kisses your warm skin as you take your seats on the patio furniture, pressed into Jack’s side as he curls an arm around your shoulder to keep you close.
You sit in silence for a minute, like you’re both trying to figure out how to broach the subject, where to go from here.
“Can you promise me something?” Jack asks quietly, voice low and slightly pained.
You pull away just enough to crane your neck up to look at him at the same time he gazes down at you. And it’s then that you notice the redness of his eyes; the worry and concern and hurt that’s buried itself deep in the lines of his skin.
“You talk to me.” His voice cracks when he requests it. “You don’t get stuck or lost in your head. You have a concern, you voice it. We talk through it. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere, and I need you to tell me you understand that.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, the need to argue that if Tom can so easily walk away from Pheebs, what’s to say that he won’t, too.
“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s not going to happen.” Jack rasps like he can read your mind, and you don’t miss the hurt in his voice. The fact that you think he could so easily, so carelessly walk away from either of you like that.
“You say that now, but what if things change.” He hates the pain in your voice, the worry and fear and heartache.
Jack shakes his head, his hand coming up to caress your jaw and stroke soothingly against your cheek; catching the tears before they can fully fall.
“Baby, I told you before but I’ll happily tell you again…you and Phoebe are all that I care about. Your happiness, your safety, your health…”
His voice is a wreck as he stares down at you, as he catches the sheer vulnerability in your eyes. It’s on the tip of his tongue, right on the precipice of spilling over. But he catches it before it can.
“There is nothing that I wouldn't do for you, for Phoebe. And even if you and I don’t work out, or you meet someone younger or better—”
“—there is no younger or better—”
“—I will never turn my back on her. I give you my word, that I will be present in Phoebe’s life, no matter what. In whatever capacity you allow me to be, I will be there. Happily. Willingly.”
You stare at him in awe, with so much adoration that you feel yourself starting to cry again. You have never felt this way about anyone. Not Tom, not even your beloved lost love.
He leans down to close the small gap, rests your foreheads together as the tip of his nose brushes down the slope of yours. “You two have made an irrevocable mark on me. You are not something I plan to walk away from.”
Your bottom lip trembles at the sincerity of his words, at the soft and gentleness he’s always given you. You’ve never been cared for so openly, so genuinely. No one has ever been so gentle with your heart and mind. No one has ever watered your soul in hopes that it will bloom and thrive.
No one but Jack.
Perhaps it’s wrong to feel so significantly lighter when he intertwines your fingers and guides you back into your parents house. Maybe you should still be hurt and sad and inconsolable over the events of the day.
But you do.
You let yourself trust him, his words and his heart. You let yourself laugh loudly when your dad makes his so-called ‘crazy popcorn’, where he lifts the lid of the pan to stress the importance of keeping it on and kernels fly across the kitchen.
When Phoebe and Florence almost piss themselves from laughing so hard.
It suddenly makes sense to Jack what Pheebs had meant a couple of months ago when he wasn’t as creative and just made the popcorn in the microwave. A mental note he makes for next time.
He squeezes your hand gently, trying to catch your attention. And when you turn to him with some of the light back in your eyes, it’s like he visibly relaxes.
“I’m gonna head back to the apartment. Check on Sally, get some shut eye before shift tonight.”
The thought of not having him by your side right now isn’t one you’re too thrilled about, but you nod anyway, intertwining your fingers.
“Alright, we’re gonna stay here for a bit.”
Jack watches you for a moment, like he’s searching for any split second of hesitancy or unease so can insist on calling in sick and staying with you. But he finds none.
“You sure you’ll be okay?” He asks quietly.
You’re not sure, not even in the slightest. But you have Bella and the girls. You can’t expect or allow him to put his life on pause because of something another man has done. That’s not fair to him.
So you nod, plaster on a smile that’s as believable as possible. “Yeah. Bella’s gonna stay. And our talk helped.”
Jack squints at you, like he can tell you’re trying to save face for him and he doesn’t like it. But he’a already made it clear to you that he’s here, that he wants to help. He worries that if he pushes more you’ll pull away again. So he relents with a sigh and his hands on your waist, luring you into his arms.
“Okay, you call me if you need me and I'll check in through the night.”
Selfishly, you don’t even consider refusing that. You’ll happily take the calls and texts through his shift, if only until you can be with him again tomorrow.
Jack leans close to press a tender kiss to your forehead, hands gripping your waist like he’s making sure you’re not about to disappear. And it’s like it physically pains him to pull away to say goodbye to everyone else.
Prue seeks him out first, wrapping him in a mother’s embrace that he hasn’t felt for himself in many years. She squeezes him like he’s her only son, whispers her thanks for looking after her daughter and grandbaby.
Jack doesn’t have it in him to be able to reply without growing upset. So he smiles through pursed lips and untangles from her hold when David approaches to pat a hand on his shoulder and turns their bodies toward the sink to form a quiet curtain of privacy.
“I want you to do me a favor.”
Jack keeps his gaze focused on the faucet as David speaks in a low tone; one that’s rich in pain and protectiveness and he hates that he knows what he's about to be asked.
“You might feel like it’s not your place, but you cannot allow Tom back into their lives. I know my daughter is a strong woman…but she cannot handle this when it comes to Phoebe.”
Jack cranes his neck to the side to meet David’s desperate gaze. There’s more to it in his eyes, more than just asking a favor for this situation. There’s the worry of who will take care of them when he’s gone. Because the years are passing faster than he can keep up with.
“I’m—” Jack’s voice cracks and he clears his throat, speaking again in a much lower and pained tone. “I’m not sure she’d want me to involve myself.”
David shakes his head before he manages to finish his sentence. “You’re already involved, son. You’re in love with my daughter and you treat Phoebe like she’s your own. They are your family now. As men, we protect our families.”
There’s a stinging sensation behind Jack’s eyes, a throbbing that aches around his heart. David is a smart man, he knows. It’s his way of making sure Jack can take care of you both, his way of accepting him, his silent blessing wrapped in protective ribbon.
You’re in love with my daughter.
He doesn’t deny it.
“Yes, sir.” Jack nods, voice gravelly.
David squeezes his shoulder as a sad sort of grin begins to tug across your father’s mouth. “Just David to you.”
He doesn’t say anything else. Just passes Jack with a fatherly pat on his back before returning his attention to Phoebe and Florence—who Jack had no idea Prue and David also considered to be their granddaughter.
“I’ll stay with her tonight, promise.”
He turns at the sound of Bella’s voice as she stands beside him, leaning against the kitchen counter with arms crossed over her chest.
“Thank you.” He looses a sigh, eyes immediately seeking you out across the room as you check your phone for any updates on Karis yet.
Bella notices, she always does. Follows his line of sight and for the first time, she doesn’t feel protective of you—doesn’t feel like she needs to warn Jack or give him a talking to. Because he watches you with so much devotion and care, so much love it almost chokes her.
If anyone is deserving of it, it’s you.
The only time his attention is torn away from you is when small footsteps rush toward him and Pheebs is at his feet, arms in the air as she tries to show him her picture.
Jack doesn’t falter when he lifts her—something she’s very close to being too big for—and rests her on his hip, shifting his weight to his good leg and taking a look at her drawing.
“Look, it’s us!” She points to each figure as she lists them off. “Mommy, me, you, and there’s Sally!”
The figures are misshapen and different colors, uncoordinated and chaotic but that’s Phoebe for you. She’s tried to write names at the top—something the three of you have been working on over the past couple of months—and the sight of Jack’s spelt wrong and mostly with shapes and a silver crayon used to draw a line for his prosthetic…it has his throat tightening.
He decides right then that he’s going to pin it in his locker at work.
“You are such an artist, Diva. I love it, you even put my leg in there.”
“Duh,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing to include.
And Bella watches the exchange. The way Phoebe’s eyes sparkle when she looks at Jack, the way he holds her tight and kisses the side of her head. She watches how your smile widens when you notice them, when you grin something bright and cosmic, when you stand by Jack’s side and Pheebs shows you the picture.
She listens when Jack tells Diva to behave for you, when he checks if you need her carseat and you tell him Bella has a spare. When Phoebe wiggles out of his grasp and runs off to Florence, when he waves at them both as they scream a BYE JACK at him.
Bella does have the decency to turn away when he kisses you, though. When he promises to see you in the morning and bring breakfast for everyone. When he jokes about stealing your shower to put the chair you got him to good use.
She lingers long enough to hear your laugh, to hear Jack’s. Waits a beat too long to see if he’ll say it, if you will. There’s a pregnant pause like you both want to, but neither utter what’s on the tips of your tongues.
Bella doesn’t think it’ll be long before one of you does.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
You knew the night was going to end in tears.
To give yourself some grace, you have managed to hold it in until the girls settle for bed. Your bed, to be precise. They’ve commandeered your bedroom, snuggled up under your sheets as they watch Peter Pan and snack on yogurt covered berries.
And now that you’ve pulled out the couch bed in the living room and sat with a blanket, chinese food and a bottle of wine…life feels like it’s crashing around you.
Bella’s hand on your thigh is soothing and grounding, firm enough to keep you from completely floating away in your burning mind.
“I just feel like I’ve failed her.”
Bella’s heart shatters at your words, at the ache in your voice, the tears that continue to pour down your flushed cheeks. “Babe, you have not failed anyone. You are not responsible for his shitty actions, you know that.”
She’s right, you know she’s right. But you were the one that had a child with him, you were the one that still allowed him to be in her life up until this point. To confuse her. To now disappear out of nowhere and leave her with the same heartache and anger that your biological parents did.
“I don’t want her to go through what I did.” Your admittance is passed through trembling lips and salty tears.
Bella’s lips turn downward, her own eyes glistening with fresh tears because she knows all too well what you went through. She was the first friend you ever made when you were put in Prue and David’s care, she was the one you’d sneak onto the back field with during class to smoke weed and be angry at the world together.
She was there through all those confusing feelings, through all the sadness and anger and then the guilt when Prue and David decided to adopt you.
“It’s not the same, babe. You know it’s not the same thing you went through.” She coos.
“It’s close enough. She’s going to grow up wondering why her daddy didn’t want her, why he walked away, why she wasn’t good enough—”
“Stop, calm down, come on.” Bella pulls you into her, cradling your head to her chest and rocking you back and forth on the pull-out bed as she smooths down your hair.
“She is always going to have you. You’re not going anywhere.” Her voice is gentle when she speaks, wobbling from her own anguish at the sight of you. “Jack is not going anywhere.”
You clutch her tighter. “You don’t know that.”
Bella pulls you out of her hold to get a look at you, to cup your face in her palms and wipe away the onslaught of tears that continue to slip.
“Yes, I do. Honey, he looks at you like you are the only thing in this world that matters. He looks at Phoebe like she is the most precious thing he has ever met. That man is smitten with the both of you, he is not going anywhere.”
You know she isn’t just saying it to make you feel better. You know that Jack cares so deeply for you and your daughter, that he would never dream of walking away like Tom has. But the truth of it doesn’t stop that worry from festering. Doesn’t stop it from taking root in your mind until you begin to believe it.
“I’m scared,” you whisper.
“I know,” she whispers back.
“I’m in love with him.” It comes out as a breathless whine, an admittance that you’ve been keeping buried for the past couple of months. One that’s been suffocating you from the inside out, like it’s never supposed to have been kept to yourself.
“I know,” Bella whispers again.
Before you can think to dive into your fears of him not feeling as deeply as you do, the gentle pinging of your phone lights up with a text message from Jack and you’re wiping your eyes as you reach for it.
Jack: Just checking in baby, you doing okay?
You: all ok, we have wine and chinese, hows work
Jack: Work is fine
Jack: Would much rather be at home with my girls
Your heart stutters at the message. Home. My girls. You want to tell him that you wish he was here, too. That part of you regrets not taking him up on the offer of calling in sick. But you know if you say as much, he’ll walk out and come straight back to you.
His job is more important than this. But you’re grateful that Jack is keeping the conversation casual, like he’s purposely trying to keep your mind off the events of today.
You: promise you’re not missing out on anything exciting
Jack: I’m missing out on you. You’re the most exciting
You: anyone ever told you that you’re a massive flirt?
Jack: Once or twice.
Bella catches you grinning at your phone, takes that as her cue to refill your glasses in the kitchen. You barely register her brief departure before you’re receiving another text.
Jack: I miss you
Jack: I’m starting to hate my job
You: liar, you love your job
Jack: I love being with you and Diva more
You: we love being with you too
There’s at least a minute of your text being left on delivered as Bella comes over with another full glass of white wine and a giant tub of ice cream tucked under her arm, causing a wet patch to form on the pyjama shirt she’s borrowed from you.
You take the wine as you blow her a kiss, your mood slowly lifting as the tears begin to dry. You snuggle back against the pillows, curling into yourself and the scent of Jack’s shirt that you’re wearing when your phone vibrates with another text.
Jack: Mass casualty incoming, I will try and call you later
Jack: Stay out of that beautiful head of yours, I am not going anywhere. We will figure this out together. x
You stare at the message, rereading it over and over and over again. The words are on the tips of your fingers, eager to be typed and sent. But you refuse for that to be how you tell him for the first time. How you confess it properly.
You: ❤️ u
It’s much more casual and lightheartened than how you actually feel, but it’s more than either of you have ever said. You send before you can talk yourself out of it, feel the bile rise up your throat when it’s marked as delivered. Feel it threaten to spill out your mouth when it changes to read.
Not even a heartbeat later, his reply comes through.
Jack: I know baby
Jack: ❤️ u too
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
SERIES MASTERLIST — NEXT PART
Tag list for this series has grown way too big for me to keep up with so it’s unfortunately CLOSED. You can however follow the #apt.17 tag instead for updates on the series!
ok unsure what happened before but hopefully this is working now. i am so sad that the next part is the final part and i hate that i did this to pheebs but it's crucial to the storyline like it just had to happen
Thank you very much for reading! Feedback really means a lot so I would love to hear your thoughts and ideas for where you think this will go!! Reblogs helps to boost stuff for more people to reach so if you enjoyed it please consider reblogging!!
𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘’𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒. 𐙚⋆°🦢.⋆ᥫ᭡ — please give all of these incredible writers the love and support. 🍯 random fandom & character order, 18+ only please.
— part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten, part eleven, part twelve, part thirteen, part fourteen,
summary: big things happen for bee and jack when they have their fancy dinner date
tags/warnings: 18+ mdni, contains written plot (!!!), potential ooc, swearing, innuendos/sexual comments & discussions, fluff, flirting, use of pet names, age-gap relationship, power dynamics, no use of y/n, fake instagram stories, see masterlist for more detailed tags
author’s note: another update already? and it’s a long chapter with a written part??? i surprised myself too. don't skip over the written part!!! enjoy! oh i renamed the bee’s pr team gc
previous | next
The first thing you feel when you wake up in the morning is a warm and heavy arm draped across your waist, holding you close. The steady thrum of a heartbeat is felt against your back, and the heat of a bare chest radiating against you through the thin t-shirt you wear, Jack's t-shirt. You feel nothing but bliss and safety as you remember where you are and who you're with. You're in Jack's house, in Jack's bed, with Jack.
Memories of the previous night come racing to the forefront of your mind. The way Jack kissed you outside of the restaurant after the dream of a dinner date you had. Your first kiss with Jack.
His hand was on your waist to steady you as you stood on your tiptoes, reaching your hand up to brush a stray salty curl off Jack's forehead. Your hand didn't leave his face, though, instead choosing to settle against his cheek. Your eyes met Jack's in a gentle gaze, until he leaned in, and your eyes flickered shut.
The kiss was warm and soft and gentle and sickly sweet. It quickly turned to more as your lips parted in a gasp, and Jack took it as permission to slip his tongue into your mouth. The kiss became hungry, Jack groaning into your mouth and you letting out a small whine in turn. Your lips finally detached, both of you needing to take a breath.
Jack pressed multiple short but firm pecks against your lips as he held your face between his large palms. When he finally pulled away to meet your gaze, he spoke. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time."
"Why didn't you?" you asked. "I've been wanting you to do that forever."
"I was trying to be a gentleman," he replied. "Didn't want to pressure you into anything."
"That's sweet, Jackie," you grinned. "But rest assured, I want to kiss you. I want everything with you."
"Everything?" he asks, a look that could be considered both giddy and questioning gracing his face.
"Everything," you respond. Sensing he still seems unsure, you give him a short, soft kiss, whispering, "Take me home, Jack," against his lips.
And so Jack took you home.
Words can't describe how perfect the night was. You swear you can still feel his lips against your body, soft and loving as they explored every inch of you.
You remember the way his body felt under your lips as well. You made it your mission last night to kiss every single freckle that graced his perfectly sculpted figure.
You remember how generous Jack was as a lover, bringing you to your high twice last night. First with his tongue, and then with him inside you.
He was so gentle with you after, getting a warm washcloth to clean you and a pair of his boxers plus a too-big-band tee for you to sleep in.
His vulnerability when he let you watch him remove his prosthetic warmed your heart, and your look of fondness that lacked judgement warmed his.
He held you close to his chest as he fell asleep, the same position you found yourself in now.
The slight change in your breathing pattern alerted Jack to your newly awake state. He had already been awake for quite some time, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb you when you looked so peaceful. And selfishly, he didn’t think he had ever felt so comfortable in his life.
“Good morning sleepy,” he mumbled against your shoulder blade as he pressed kisses up your neck.
“Mmm good morning,” you say back, turning around to face him. His arm adjusts so it still holds you across your waist, looking at you with a soft smile. “How’d you sleep sweetheart?” he asks.
“Like a rock,” you giggle out.
“Mm I’m glad,” he smiles at you. “Don’t think I’ve slept that well in a decade.”
You cuddle into him again, tucking your head under his chin. His hand is rubbing across your back in large circles as your finger traces up and down his bicep. The two of you are enjoying the quiet peace of the morning until Jack breaks the silence. “I have something I want to ask you.”
“What is it?,” you ask, untucking your head from under his chin to look up at him. There’s a slight nervousness behind his eyes when you meet his tender gaze. “Everything okay, Jackie?”
“Better than okay,” he responds. “That’s why I wanted to ask you if you would do me the honor of being my girlfriend.”
Your slightly stunned for a second, forgetting your words and instead just looking up at Jack with wide eyes and slightly parted lips.
He confuses your surprise for rejection, and begins to ramble. “Or not, I’m sorry if I confused what this was. I really like you and care about you a lot, but I know I’m old and I’m your boss and, god this was so stupid of me. I ruined it didn’t I? I’m sorry—,” his words are quickly cut off when you press a firm kiss to his lips.
It’s the type of kiss that leaves no room for questions about how you feel, and it’s successful in shutting Jack up. He melts into the kiss as the brief panic and worry in his mind melts away.
“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Jack,” you say as you break away from the kiss. You meet his gaze once more to see the matching grins and blushes that you both share.
summary: big things happen for bee and jack when they have their fancy dinner date
tags/warnings: 18+ mdni, contains written plot (!!!), potential ooc, swearing, innuendos/sexual comments & discussions, fluff, flirting, use of pet names, age-gap relationship, power dynamics, no use of y/n, fake instagram stories, see masterlist for more detailed tags
author’s note: another update already? and it’s a long chapter with a written part??? i surprised myself too. don't skip over the written part!!! enjoy! oh i renamed the bee’s pr team gc
previous | next
The first thing you feel when you wake up in the morning is a warm and heavy arm draped across your waist, holding you close. The steady thrum of a heartbeat is felt against your back, and the heat of a bare chest radiating against you through the thin t-shirt you wear, Jack's t-shirt. You feel nothing but bliss and safety as you remember where you are and who you're with. You're in Jack's house, in Jack's bed, with Jack.
Memories of the previous night come racing to the forefront of your mind. The way Jack kissed you outside of the restaurant after the dream of a dinner date you had. Your first kiss with Jack.
His hand was on your waist to steady you as you stood on your tiptoes, reaching your hand up to brush a stray salty curl off Jack's forehead. Your hand didn't leave his face, though, instead choosing to settle against his cheek. Your eyes met Jack's in a gentle gaze, until he leaned in, and your eyes flickered shut.
The kiss was warm and soft and gentle and sickly sweet. It quickly turned to more as your lips parted in a gasp, and Jack took it as permission to slip his tongue into your mouth. The kiss became hungry, Jack groaning into your mouth and you letting out a small whine in turn. Your lips finally detached, both of you needing to take a breath.
Jack pressed multiple short but firm pecks against your lips as he held your face between his large palms. When he finally pulled away to meet your gaze, he spoke. "I've been wanting to do that for a long time."
"Why didn't you?" you asked. "I've been wanting you to do that forever."
"I was trying to be a gentleman," he replied. "Didn't want to pressure you into anything."
"That's sweet, Jackie," you grinned. "But rest assured, I want to kiss you. I want everything with you."
"Everything?" he asks, a look that could be considered both giddy and questioning gracing his face.
"Everything," you respond. Sensing he still seems unsure, you give him a short, soft kiss, whispering, "Take me home, Jack," against his lips.
And so Jack took you home.
Words can't describe how perfect the night was. You swear you can still feel his lips against your body, soft and loving as they explored every inch of you.
You remember the way his body felt under your lips as well. You made it your mission last night to kiss every single freckle that graced his perfectly sculpted figure.
You remember how generous Jack was as a lover, bringing you to your high twice last night. First with his tongue, and then with him inside you.
He was so gentle with you after, getting a warm washcloth to clean you and a pair of his boxers plus a too-big-band tee for you to sleep in.
His vulnerability when he let you watch him remove his prosthetic warmed your heart, and your look of fondness that lacked judgement warmed his.
He held you close to his chest as he fell asleep, the same position you found yourself in now.
The slight change in your breathing pattern alerted Jack to your newly awake state. He had already been awake for quite some time, but he couldn’t bring himself to disturb you when you looked so peaceful. And selfishly, he didn’t think he had ever felt so comfortable in his life.
“Good morning sleepy,” he mumbled against your shoulder blade as he pressed kisses up your neck.
“Mmm good morning,” you say back, turning around to face him. His arm adjusts so it still holds you across your waist, looking at you with a soft smile. “How’d you sleep sweetheart?” he asks.
“Like a rock,” you giggle out.
“Mm I’m glad,” he smiles at you. “Don’t think I’ve slept that well in a decade.”
You cuddle into him again, tucking your head under his chin. His hand is rubbing across your back in large circles as your finger traces up and down his bicep. The two of you are enjoying the quiet peace of the morning until Jack breaks the silence. “I have something I want to ask you.”
“What is it?,” you ask, untucking your head from under his chin to look up at him. There’s a slight nervousness behind his eyes when you meet his tender gaze. “Everything okay, Jackie?”
“Better than okay,” he responds. “That’s why I wanted to ask you if you would do me the honor of being my girlfriend.”
Your slightly stunned for a second, forgetting your words and instead just looking up at Jack with wide eyes and slightly parted lips.
He confuses your surprise for rejection, and begins to ramble. “Or not, I’m sorry if I confused what this was. I really like you and care about you a lot, but I know I’m old and I’m your boss and, god this was so stupid of me. I ruined it didn’t I? I’m sorry—,” his words are quickly cut off when you press a firm kiss to his lips.
It’s the type of kiss that leaves no room for questions about how you feel, and it’s successful in shutting Jack up. He melts into the kiss as the brief panic and worry in his mind melts away.
“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Jack,” you say as you break away from the kiss. You meet his gaze once more to see the matching grins and blushes that you both share.
summary: reader is a senior resident at the pitt working the day shift. after switching to the night shift, her crush on the night shift attending jack abbot starts to go from silly to something more when she realizes it's not as one-sided as she thought...
tags/warnings: 18+ mdni, medical inaccuracies, author tries (and possibly fails) to be funny, potential ooc, use of y/n (though very minimal), female reader, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader's nickname is 'bee', swearing, innuendos/sexual comments, reader is roommates with santos and whitaker, fluff, flirting, angst (barely), pining, use of pet names, age-gap relationship (unspecified but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is late 40s), power dynamics (jack is reader's attending/boss), toxic exes, mentions of cheating (not reader or jack), brief discussions of minor violence
author's note: i try to update once - twice a week! feel free to comment below any suggestions, questions, comments, or to be added to the taglist! this is my first smau so bear with me pls <3 okay love u byeee
xoxo, spritz!
CHAPTERS:
ׂ╰┈➤
i. welcome to the night shift
ii. call me jack
iii. the cookie thief
iv. looks cozy
v. oh naur!
vi. you like me?
vii. stargazer lillies
viii. whatever you say baby
ix. it's a whole ass telenovela
summary: someone from bee's past makes a visit to the ED
tags/warnings: 18+ mdni, potential ooc, swearing, innuendos/sexual comments, fluff, flirting, pining, use of pet names, age-gap relationship, power dynamics, no use of y/n, minor discussions of violence, toxic exes, mentions of cheating (not reader or jack), see masterlist for more detailed tags
author’s note: extra-long chapter to make up for disappearing. from now on expect only 1 chapter a week, 2 if i can make it work. unfortunately my real-life job takes up time, but i am trying my best for you guys! anyway, hope you enjoy and remember reblogs and comments are an author's best friend <3
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