Welcome to my page! I hope you guys enjoy your time here.
LINK TO MY KoFi AND COMMISSIONS!
First a Few Things:
Generally speaking, most of my content is NOT suitable for anyone under the age of 18. So before proceeding, please be cautious because there is a lot of adult content.
YES MY INBOX IS OPEN!!!!
With that being said, I reserve the right to say no to any prompt requests I don’t feel comfortable doing. These include:
+ underage characters with adult characters unless strictly platonic
+ Trans/non binary : THIS IS A SAFE PLACE; however as I have 0 experience writing for Non-Binary and Trans I don't want to accidentally misrepresent a person.
+ non con
ANYWHO feel free to send in prompts or requests :)
Prompt List Version 1
Prompt List Version 2
Smut Prompt List
MASTER LIST BELOW
Click Here for Marvel Master List
Click Here for DC Master List
Click Here for The Walking Dead Master List
Click Here for Cobra Kai Master List
Click Here for Star Wars Master List
Click Here for For All Mankind Master List
Click Here for Twilight (Discontinued) Master List
Summary: At a wedding, Jack can’t help but feel so lucky to be the one who gets to take you home.
Tags: tooth rotting fluff, partners also being friends, smut!, rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, light dom/sub, brief mention of “daddy”, reader and jack have a happy healthy relationship, idk man it’s joyful and fun
WC: 2.8k
Author’s Note: I’ve been wanting to write shorter blurbs here and there to keep my lovely readers fed in between my 20k nightmare fics.
————
Jack Abbot was normal. He was fine. He was definitely not seething watching you dance with friends. The problem with dating the hottest woman in existence was that he couldn’t exclusively monopolize your time. He barely knew anyone at this wedding, it was your friend’s wedding.
She had too many sisters to have you as a bridesmaid and in the comfort and secrecy of your bedroom you had whispered to him that you just didn’t have it in you to be in so many weddings—most of your twenties had been spent traveling around the country to be in friends’ weddings.
Now, he was watching you in a gorgeous plum dress dancing around barefoot with girls you’ve known for over a decade. Some of their husbands were tolerable. Your best friend and her husband were here. Most of the time Ted was fine. Drunk Ted cared a lot about golf and Jack, drunk or sober, couldn’t give a shit.
When P!nk’s “So What” ended you meandered back over to Jack and to his surprise (and delight), collapsed in his lap.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m a little tipsy.”
“So I see,” he replied, lightly pushing your hair back away from your face. Your nice hairdo had long since come unraveled and kept falling in your face.
“I like you so much,” you said leaning into him.
“You don’t love me?” He asked with a smile on his face. You snorted.
“Of course I love you. But I also like you.”
“Thanks?”
“I don’t think all my friends like their husbands,” you whispered a little too wet in his ear. He had to resist the urge to push you away to wipe it off.
“What makes you say that?”
“Take me back to the hotel and I’ll tell you,” you said laying your head on his shoulder. It definitely didn’t look comfortable, largely speaking to your exhaustion. You had been dancing and jumping with your friends for multiple hours.
“C’mon, babe,” he said shifting your legs off his lap.
“Ugh,” you groaned standing again. “I need to tell Claire goodnight.”
“I’ll get our stuff,” he said.
The send off had been a few hours ago, before the elderly relatives had left. Now, it was just a fun party with friends. He loved watching you light up and enjoy being around your people. He loved his people, but they were far more subdued than yours.
Across the dance floor you approached your friend who threw her arms around you with heartfelt but drunken balance and coordination. It made his heart swell, watching how happy you were. Fuck, he loved making you happy. All he wanted in life was to make each day just a little easier; he wanted to do his best to make you happy.
By the time you’d extricated yourself from your friend’s embrace and made your way back to him, Jack had a hold of your purse and coat. He also had already dug your ugly Birkenstocks out of your purse so you didn’t have to put your heels back on.
“Fuck you’re so good to me,” you said, holding onto him while you slipped the shoes on.
“Well if that’s all it takes,” he replied, helping you into your coat.
He kept a hold of your bag when walking out to the parking lot. Just like his mother taught him, he held the door open on the rental car and shut it gently behind you. When he got into the drivers seat, you had dug your water bottle out of your purse.
“Ugh, I’m already sobering up,” you complained.
“So you don’t want drunk fast food?”
You gasped dramatically. “Do you kiss your mother with that dirty mouth?”
Jack laughed and grabbed your hand as he turned out of the parking lot heading back to the hotel.
“What did you mean earlier about your girlfriends not liking their husbands?” He asked pulling into a greasy fast food joint. It rarely mattered which one as the point was disgusting food.
Once the French fries and chicken and burgers had been acquired, Jack pulled into a parking spot towards the back of the lot. One of the first things you both discovered you’d had in common was growing up in small towns. It meant that you both had fond memories of idling car conversations and the occasional makeout. Even now, a long away from your teen years, you both adored your post party ritual.
“So,” you began, curling your legs up. “Abigail, not technically my friend, but she’s a good time. Was talking to me about how glad she was that her husband couldn’t come and that was fucking bonkers to me. Why would you marry someone you don’t like?”
“You would be sad if I couldn’t come?”
“Sure, I like spending time with you. It’s not like it would ruin it for me, I basically barely hung out with you tonight, but it’s fun coming back and kissing you before dancing to Pitbull songs with everyone.”
“I think that’s a compliment,” he laughed.
“But seriously!” You said nudging him. “I like being around you. It’s fun. You’re just as fun as my friends.”
“Even though I can’t dance with the energy of a drunk college girl?”
“Even then,” you laughed. “Hear anything good with the spouses?”
“Ted likes golf,” Jack sighed.
“God he’s so boring,” you laughed. “But she needs boring after the shit head she used to be married to.”
“Do your friends think I’m boring?”
You scoffed. “No, they think you’re a crazy adrenaline junky, not boring. Did you notice the groom’s sister had a fucking weird speech?”
For the next hour you both sat in the car, eating food that would clog your arteries and gossiping about the wedding. It was life giving and comforting in ways you never wanted to lose. You’d had this with friends but Jack was the first man you’d ever dated who wanted to do stupid shit with you. He wanted to go to weddings of people he didn’t know. He wanted to sit in a slightly too heated car talking shit about speeches. He wanted to do nothing and everything with you.
“What’s that look?” Jack asked.
“I dunno,” you sighed. “I just really fucking like you.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I really fucking like you, too,” he said. “Even if you dance like a baby giraffe.”
“Fuck off!”
When you both got back to the hotel, Jack helped you search for the various pins hidden somewhere in your hair.
“You’re so pretty,” he said mouth at your bare shoulder.
“Are you trying to get in my pants, Dr. Abbot?”
“You’re not wearing pants,” he said, bracketing your body against the counter of the bathroom. “You are, however, wearing a gorgeous dress I’ve wanted to peel off with my teeth all night.”
“Your teeth, huh?” You asked making eye contact with him in the mirror.
“God I’ve wanted to touch you so bad all night,” he whispered in your ear, pressing a soft kiss right near your hairline.
“You look so good in that suit,” you grumbled, pushing your ass back against his groin. “Kept coming back to kiss you so everyone knew you were mine.”
Jack’s eyes fluttered closed as he buried his face in your neck. Being wanted by you was intoxicating. Knowing that you coveted him as much as he coveted you was more than enough to turn him on. He could feel the ghost of your cunt clenching around him. It had been two weeks since he last fucked you. Both of your jobs had been hectic.
But now, in the privacy of the too expensive hotel room, he had you at his mercy.
“Look at me baby,” he said softly against your ear, relishing in how you shivered against him. “All mine, right?”
“Only yours,” you breathed. “I’ve missed your hands.”
He ran his hands from your thighs up your dress to cup your tits. The strapless dress was held up by tape and some intricate ties in the back. He pulled the tape off your chest gently and then yanked the fabric down under your tits, bra and all. You looked so good. In the dim light of the bathroom, he drank in your heedy gaze.
“Beautiful,” he said attacking your neck again.
Having you in his bed for so long, meant Jack knew just how to kiss you and play with your chest to make you soaked. It’s like he had a cheat code to turning you on. It helped that most of the night had been subtle foreplay between you both. During dinner his hand was definitely too high on your thigh but he couldn’t bear to move it.
“Fuck, baby, take me to bed. It’s cold as shit in here,” you groaned.
“Anything for you,” he said. “How hard do you want tonight?”
“Rough,” you replied.
He wove his fingers through your hair, close to the roots and pulled. He drug you back into the main room and tossed you on the bed face first. Holding you down with one hand on your upper back, he slowly pulled the zipper of your dress down.
“Look at this sexy body,” he said. “All for me.”
You wiggled a little as he unhooked the strapless bra with one hand. It had taken him nearly a year to master, but it was one of his most used bedroom skills. Letting you go, he pulled off the dress harshly, taking your underwear with it. Then you were face down on the bed, naked and already dripping for him.
You had arched your back, preening under his gaze. With a sharp smack to the meaty part of your glute, he watched you jump and settle back into your skin. A few more spanks and he quickly shoved his fingers inside you making you gasp.
He loved all the noises and movements you made during sex. For the duration of your relationship, he had been making a running catalog of how to get you to do a sound or movement. While he harshly fingered you, enjoying the way you squirmed under him, he began unbuckling his belt and pants.
“Feel good, baby?”
“Fuck me, please,” you panted against the comforter.
Shoving his pants down just low enough let out his dick, he pulled his fingers out of you and rubbed your wetness along his cock. Just the smell of you was sending him over the edge. He made sure to clamp down on your hips tightly, hoping to leave a bruise for you to enjoy, before careening his hips into yours aggressively.
There was a grunt as the air was knocked out of you. For a moment he paused, enjoying how you felt. Your cunt always felt so fucking good against his dick. You were so warm and wet and you clenched so beautifully when he spanked you. As much as he loved to be the one furiously fucking you, he also loved having you in charge.
He always enjoyed feeling your nails rake down his back. He was desperate to feel you closer against his skin, so while he had your hips pinned to the bed, he quickly ripped off his button up and undershirt so he could wrap his arm around your neck and pull you up against his body.
Once he felt you against his chest, he began to thrust ferociously against your cunt. He loved how it fluttered and the grunts and groans you released as he harshly pounded into you.
“Fuck, baby,” Jack growled harshly. “You feel so good. Made for me. Carved for my fucking dick, isn’t that right?”
“Just for you,” you said breathlessly.
You were clutching onto the bicep his had wrapped around your neck (more so your chest than neck, but it had the same effect). He felt you meeting his thrusts sending shockwaves through both of you.
“I love it when you’re rough with me,” you heaved against his assault. “Harder, please.”
Your tone was always so breathy and almost whiny when you got worked up like this.
“Anything for my naughty girl. Do you like this dick pounding into you. Does it feel good to have someone treat you so meanly?”
“Fuuuck,” you groaned arching against his grasp more. “You feel so good inside of me.”
“You make me so fucking crazy, pretty girl,” he hissed against your ear. “Watching you tonight was like my own personal dream. The prettiest girl in the world dancing and jumping but always coming back to me. Can’t be without me can you?”
“No, I can’t,” you whined as one of Jack’s hands roughly kneaded your tits. “Your hands are so good.”
“Rub your clit for me, baby. I want to feel you cum on my dick. I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.”
“Yes please,” you mumbled. He felt one of your hands leave its iron grasp on his arm. “You fill me up so good.”
Jack felt himself getting close so he pulled out and finished taking off his pants. Getting his prosthetic off quickly was a hard fought for skill, but he managed to push you flat on the bed covering your body with his own before slipping back inside of your warmth.
He wrapped his arm around your throat again and grinned at how you moaned wantonly.
“So pretty when you’re being used by me.”
“Please,” you managed.
“Prop your hips up, baby,” he said getting on his knees to allow you room.
The harsh sounds of him slamming into you filled the room while he kept whispering debauched things in your ear:
“You’re made for me and only me.”
“Using you feels so sweet.”
“Are you going to cum on my dick?”
“I’m so fucking deep, baby.”
“I’m going to make you cum so hard.”
He was so focused on making sure you came, he didn’t noticed how you turned your face.
“Please, daddy, harder,” you moaned.
His hips stuttered and to control himself, he bit into the muscle of your shoulder. He almost felt guilty for how hot he found your cry of pain to be.
“Rub your clit and say it again,” he mumbled against your skin.
Your hand snaked underneath your body, and gasping under his assault you said,
“Harder, daddy. I want to feel you cum inside me.”
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned.
He was so close when he felt the tell tale flutters of your cunt against him. He nearly wept with relief you finally were close enough for him to say,
“Cum on my dick, pretty girl. Show me how good I make you feel. Milk me. Milk daddy.”
You cried out as you tensed and gasped underneath him. He made sure to keep moving as you clenched against him until your shaking thighs collapsed. He continued his furious pace until he felt himself orgasm. It felt like he came forever. When he finally collapsed and rolled over next to you, he chest was heaving.
“Daddy, huh?” He asked.
“I don’t know where it came from,” you laughed. “But you clearly liked it.”
“Surprise for me, too,” he huffed. He pulled you against him, reveling in how your naked skin felt against his.
“You’re sweaty and hot,” you grumbled, nuzzling your face against his chest. It was said like a complaint but you weren’t moving away.
“So are you,” he laughed. You tweaked his nipple.
“I’m fresh as a daisy.”
He laughed and kissed the top of your head. “Want to shower first?”
“Yes please,” you said. “Will you keep me company?”
He snorted and nodded.
The accessible bathroom had a removable shower chair that he used while he waited for you. Unlike the shower at home, it wasn’t big enough for Jack, his shower chair, and you. So he watched as you tied your hair up and quickly rinsed off. He noticed your wince when you gently cleaned your vagina.
“Do you want me to check it?” He asked a little concerned.
“Nah, just sensitive. You did a good job.”
“Wow, did I get an A-plus in sex?”
“Fuck off,” you laughed.
While Jack showered, you began working through your nighttime routine. You took off whatever make up hadn’t been sweated off during the wedding or the following sex and washed your face. By the time Jack got out, you were brushing your teeth.
Before leaving the bathroom you kissed him and said, “I love you.”
“Wuv yew,” he said with his toothbrush in his mouth.
Using his crutches, he made his way back to the bed, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before sliding into bed with you. Like you always did, you slept on the side farthest from the door. It was one of the many things that lingered from the war. Jack wanted to be between you and anything unexpected.
He pulled you against him, in the dark, enjoying how warm and soft you were.
“A good night,” he mumbled.
“And good sex,” you said.
He laughed and closed his eyes, feeling so much love and affection for you leaking out of his chest.
A fic based on Wildflower by Billie Eilish where it’s Jack Abbot pining over reader who is in a semi toxic relationship with Robby, and any time Robby and reader have an argument, reader goes to Jack unaware that Jack is like in loovveee with reader.
I know the meaning of the song isn’t necessarily the same but the vibbeees. The vibes are there.
3 Times You Knock and the 1 Time He Knocks (Jack Abbot x Reader)
Main Master List || Misc Master List
Warnings: 18+, date rape drug mentioned, sexual harassment, illusion to SA, language, one sexual comment, mutual pining, idiots in love (they don't know it), work trauma
==========
The first time you knock on his door you know you’re in trouble. Not necessarily from knocking on your attending’s door well past acceptable hours, but by the fact that you have a stranger holding you upright – and judging by a hand slipping lower and lower down your back – you know he doesn’t have the best intention. “You sure this is your place?” He asks in a husky voice, breath tainted with alcohol and you resist the urge to vomit. It’s not your place, per say. Your place is a few doors down, but you had enough common sense to not lead him directly to where you live. So, Jack is your next best bet.
“Yep, me and my boyfriend,” you slur, knocking on the door again as the man’s eyes darken.
“Seems like no one is home,” he comments, hand groping your ass as the door swings open, revealing a disheveled Jack.
Without a second thought you launch into his body, arms wrapping around his neck as they support the weight of your inebriated body. “Jackie! I missed you.” You can tell Jack is taken aback by your body against his, but with his perceptiveness, he immediately picks up on the fact that something is wrong.
“Hey baby. I thought you would be home earlier.” He has no clue where you were. You and him don’t really talk about outside life while working. Wrapping an arm around you, Jack tucks you into his side, head tilting up as he stares down the man that brought you home. Jack isn’t dumb. Jack knows what that man was possibly thinking. And you know that Jack knows. “Sup man, thanks for taking her home, I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to her.”
The man stands in the doorway, anger causing his veins to pop out of his neck but he swallows it down. “It’s no problem,” he grunts, “maybe you should accompany her next time.”
Jack scoffs, pulling you closer than you thought possible and you revel in his warmth, inhaling the trace of his woodsy cologne. “I will,” Jack slams the door shut, locking it with his free hand and waits for the man to leave before turning to face you. “(Y/N) What happened?”
You barely hold the tears back as your face finds itself in Jack’s chest. It’s highly inappropriate for a resident to be seeking comfort from their attending, but you find that you don’t really care about that right now. “I- I don’t know. I was getting drinks with the girls. I started talking to that guy. He bought me a drink, and then the world started getting fuzzy,” you try to explain through heaves as he guides you to his couch, sitting you down gently. “I tried to find Santos or Mohan but that guy he… he started leading me out the door and his grip was strong.” Jack doesn’t say anything as his hand rubs your back in circles, trying to soothe you. Looking up at him through drunken vision and tear soaked lashes, you note that he’s in pajamas and his eyes sport dark circles underneath. “I’m sorr-” you hiccup and Jack gets up, heading to his kitchen before pouring you a glass of water, rejoining you on the couch as he holds out the glass.
“Drink this. You’ll feel better.” The liquid soothes your throat and forces you to calm down as his hand finds purchase on your back again.
“I’m sorry Abbot, I didn’t mean to wake you up by pounding on your door.” He smiles down at you, brushing a stray piece of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear.
“You don’t need to apologize for anything. You were smart to come to me.” There is a tense pause in the room as Abbot’s eyes look around, his teeth tugging at his lip. “I hate to ask, but… he didn’t try anything did he?”
Shaking your head you finish the water. “No, but I knew that’s where it was going. I didn’t want him to find out where I lived, which is why I knocked on your door.”
Jack wordlessly refills the glass. “It was smart, but we should get you down to the hospital for a tox screen and some fluids. Is that ok with you?”
The thought of spending your evening (what’s left of it) in the ER where people know you sends a shiver down your spine. Shaking your head, you grab his forearms, noticing how thick and warm they are in your hands and filing that away for later. “Please not the Pitt. Can we go to Presby or literally anywhere else?”
Jack smiles softly and stands up, extending a hand for you to take as he pulls you up into him. “Yeah, we can go to Presby.”
The second time you knock on his door it’s for a silly reason. In your tiredness, you had sat down on your couch after starting a bath and dozed off, only to wake up two hours later with your bathroom completely flooded. “Fucking shit!” You rush to turn off the faucet as water splashes around the floor, surely damaging the trim. “Well, there goes my deposit.”
After a quick google search on how to fix an overflooded apartment, you sigh in defeat. It will take until Monday for a person to assess the damage and you’re too low on funds to buy a fan to air it out. With a frustrated sigh you leave the apartment and storm over to Jack’s. It’s not like you want to bother your attending on one of his days off, but you also don’t want to have your place smell of mildew for the foreseeable future.
With a short, terse knock, you wait with a huff as seconds pass by before the door swings open, revealing a shirtless Jack in crutches.
“Oh, um. Shit,” you rapidly turn to look away, oblivious to the fact that Jack is staring at you with a smug grin. “Sorry Abbot for intruding. My place flooded and the maintenance won’t get here til Monday and I don’t have a large enough fan to dry out the bathroom. Do you happen to have a fan I can use?” Your eyes are on his socked foot as blood flows to your face. You know that he is an amputee, but you have never seen him without his prosthetic on, let alone shirtless without it on.
“How’d you manage that?” He asks with a cocked head, finding amusement in the situation.
“I went to start a bath and then fell asleep,” you admit bashfully as he chuckles softly, opening the door wider.
“You can take my fan, I just need it back once you’re done,” he gestures towards his bedroom, leading you down the hall as you try to keep your gaze on the walls and not his toned back and arms, flexing with each move of the crutches. “Don’t electrocute yourself and don’t short circuit the fan, okay?”
Rolling your eyes, you pick up the fan and wrap the cord around the base. “Don’t worry old man, I’ll make sure to watch youtube videos on how to properly plug it in without shocking myself,” you tease as he laughs, a brevity of calmness settling between the two of you. “Thank you, Jack. I swear I don’t intend on making it a habit to rely on you for help.”
He smiles softly, pursing his lips and lowering his head, his hazel eyes piercing yours. “Don’t worry about it. I will always help you out.”
The third time you knock on his door it’s well past midnight and you’re starving. It’s not like you don’t have food in your apartment, because you do, it’s just that it’s expired save for one singular box of mac and cheese. And you don’t have any milk. Your stomach grumbles in vengeance as you let out a sigh. It’s really pathetic that you are walking to your attending’s door to ask for milk.
Your hand curls into a fist as it raps against the door. Despite it being past midnight, Jack’s light is on and you can hear some moving around behind the door as he opens it, revealing a mouth watering scent. “What do you need help with this time,” he teases, leaning against his door frame, biceps straining against an old shirt as he crosses his arms, intentionally flexing.
It takes a second for you to wrap your head around the fact that he answered, mind preoccupied with trying to decipher whatever he was cooking as it makes your stomach rumble.
“I- uh, I’m out of milk, do you have some to spare?” Your eyes flicker past his face and see his kitchen counter, somehow organized despite there being utensils and flour everywhere while Gordon Ramsey plays on his tv in the background. “What are you cooking?”
He looks back for a second before returning his attention to you. “Spaghetti carbonara. Would you like to join?”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” but Jack doesn’t accept that for an answer as he gently grabs your arm and pulls you inside.
“I have more than enough, come on.”
—-------
“So like, what don’t you do?” You ask, shoveling some pasta into your mouth with a moan that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jack. Swallowing the food, you set your fork down onto the now empty plate. “You’re an ER doctor, a SWAT medic, you do yoga, you workout, you cook, so what don’t you do?”
He smiles as he wipes his face, napkin laying discreetly over his lap. “I don’t go out,” he offers, taking a sip from his wine glass, his eyes trailing your face.
Shrugging your shoulders, you lean back, stomach pudging out from the food that you ate. “Well, I don’t know where you learned to cook, but man, that has got to be the best food I’ve had in a while.” Your eyes land on his face, softening in appreciation. “Thank you Jack. I really appreciate you feeding me.”
“It’s no problem,” he stands from his chair, collecting his and your plate before plopping them in the sink and you take that as a sign to start heading out the door. “If you run out of food non expired food again, just let me know and I’ll make you something.”
The next morning a knock echoes through the apartment and in the doorway is a man who you’ve never seen with arms full of bags filled to the brim with groceries. “Are you (Y/N)?”
“Uh yes?”
“Here’s your order,” he hands the bags of groceries off and leaves without much of an explanation. Looking down at the groceries, you take note of a piece of paper lodged into one of the bags.
Something other than mac and cheese and not expired. Dinner at my place before work?
Jack
The one time he knocks on your door it’s on a morning where your schedules don’t line up. The knock is heavy as it wakes you from a fruitless slumber. With tired eyes, you drag yourself out of the bed and wrap a robe around your frame, shuffling toward the door.
What you don’t expect to see is Jack leaning against the frame, eyes sunken in and bag at his feet. “Jack?” You know he has rough shifts, who doesn’t have rough shifts in the ER, but he has never once sought you out. Robby is normally the go to comforter on the roof of the hospital. Not that you know that of course, because you don’t.
Jack looks down to his feet, unsure of himself. “Can I come in?” You move to the side and he kicks his bag in, much to your shock. Jack Abbot is normally a collected individual, always keeping his cool under stressful situations, but you haven’t seen this side of him.
With wary eyes, you watch as he situates himself onto your couch, hands fiddling with his prosthetic and trying to get it off. “Here, let me,” you jump into action, kneeling in front of him and removing his hands. You know that whatever state he’s in right now he is only going to harm himself trying to get the prosthetic off.
He scoffs but obliges all the same, “if I had known that this would have gotten you on your knees for me, I would’ve come to you more often.” The words slip out of his mouth before he can process them as you freeze, hands seemingly glued onto the outer shell of his socket as your eyes widen. “Fuck shit, sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
It takes you a second to recover from his words as you remove his leg from the socket, setting the prosthetic to the side. “Are you ok?” Your eyes try to find his but he’s staring at your wall, refusing to meet your gaze. “Do you want some water?” He doesn’t say anything as you move to stand. Before you can get away into the kitchen his hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, pulling you in between his legs as his face buries into your stomach, arms wrapping tightly around your waist.
Even though you have known Jack for three years now as a friend and a resident, never has he hugged you, and if you’re honest with yourself, you hope that he hugs you again, and not just in a seeking comfort manner. “Can you just hold me?”
Putting aside the fact that you and him have been teetering on the brink of being something more than friends and the fact that he’s your attending, you allow your hands to find purchase in his salt and pepper curls, nails scratching lightly against his scalp as he lets out a strangled sigh. It doesn’t take long for you to hear the occasional sniffle or for you to feel a damp spot seeping through your robe but you make no comments on it.
A few minutes later Jack pulls away, wiping his tears with the back of his hands while you take a seat next to him, hand resting on his thigh as he collects himself. “I’m sorry for barging in like this.”
Shaking your head, your hand reaches back and rubs soothing circles into his back. “Don’t even sweat it. I’ll always be here for you.”
He smiles for what you don’t know is the first time since before his shift started. “And I you.”
3 Times You Knock and the 1 Time He Knocks (Jack Abbot x Reader)
Main Master List || Misc Master List
Warnings: 18+, date rape drug mentioned, sexual harassment, illusion to SA, language, one sexual comment, mutual pining, idiots in love (they don't know it), work trauma
==========
The first time you knock on his door you know you’re in trouble. Not necessarily from knocking on your attending’s door well past acceptable hours, but by the fact that you have a stranger holding you upright – and judging by a hand slipping lower and lower down your back – you know he doesn’t have the best intention. “You sure this is your place?” He asks in a husky voice, breath tainted with alcohol and you resist the urge to vomit. It’s not your place, per say. Your place is a few doors down, but you had enough common sense to not lead him directly to where you live. So, Jack is your next best bet.
“Yep, me and my boyfriend,” you slur, knocking on the door again as the man’s eyes darken.
“Seems like no one is home,” he comments, hand groping your ass as the door swings open, revealing a disheveled Jack.
Without a second thought you launch into his body, arms wrapping around his neck as they support the weight of your inebriated body. “Jackie! I missed you.” You can tell Jack is taken aback by your body against his, but with his perceptiveness, he immediately picks up on the fact that something is wrong.
“Hey baby. I thought you would be home earlier.” He has no clue where you were. You and him don’t really talk about outside life while working. Wrapping an arm around you, Jack tucks you into his side, head tilting up as he stares down the man that brought you home. Jack isn’t dumb. Jack knows what that man was possibly thinking. And you know that Jack knows. “Sup man, thanks for taking her home, I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to her.”
The man stands in the doorway, anger causing his veins to pop out of his neck but he swallows it down. “It’s no problem,” he grunts, “maybe you should accompany her next time.”
Jack scoffs, pulling you closer than you thought possible and you revel in his warmth, inhaling the trace of his woodsy cologne. “I will,” Jack slams the door shut, locking it with his free hand and waits for the man to leave before turning to face you. “(Y/N) What happened?”
You barely hold the tears back as your face finds itself in Jack’s chest. It’s highly inappropriate for a resident to be seeking comfort from their attending, but you find that you don’t really care about that right now. “I- I don’t know. I was getting drinks with the girls. I started talking to that guy. He bought me a drink, and then the world started getting fuzzy,” you try to explain through heaves as he guides you to his couch, sitting you down gently. “I tried to find Santos or Mohan but that guy he… he started leading me out the door and his grip was strong.” Jack doesn’t say anything as his hand rubs your back in circles, trying to soothe you. Looking up at him through drunken vision and tear soaked lashes, you note that he’s in pajamas and his eyes sport dark circles underneath. “I’m sorr-” you hiccup and Jack gets up, heading to his kitchen before pouring you a glass of water, rejoining you on the couch as he holds out the glass.
“Drink this. You’ll feel better.” The liquid soothes your throat and forces you to calm down as his hand finds purchase on your back again.
“I’m sorry Abbot, I didn’t mean to wake you up by pounding on your door.” He smiles down at you, brushing a stray piece of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear.
“You don’t need to apologize for anything. You were smart to come to me.” There is a tense pause in the room as Abbot’s eyes look around, his teeth tugging at his lip. “I hate to ask, but… he didn’t try anything did he?”
Shaking your head you finish the water. “No, but I knew that’s where it was going. I didn’t want him to find out where I lived, which is why I knocked on your door.”
Jack wordlessly refills the glass. “It was smart, but we should get you down to the hospital for a tox screen and some fluids. Is that ok with you?”
The thought of spending your evening (what’s left of it) in the ER where people know you sends a shiver down your spine. Shaking your head, you grab his forearms, noticing how thick and warm they are in your hands and filing that away for later. “Please not the Pitt. Can we go to Presby or literally anywhere else?”
Jack smiles softly and stands up, extending a hand for you to take as he pulls you up into him. “Yeah, we can go to Presby.”
The second time you knock on his door it’s for a silly reason. In your tiredness, you had sat down on your couch after starting a bath and dozed off, only to wake up two hours later with your bathroom completely flooded. “Fucking shit!” You rush to turn off the faucet as water splashes around the floor, surely damaging the trim. “Well, there goes my deposit.”
After a quick google search on how to fix an overflooded apartment, you sigh in defeat. It will take until Monday for a person to assess the damage and you’re too low on funds to buy a fan to air it out. With a frustrated sigh you leave the apartment and storm over to Jack’s. It’s not like you want to bother your attending on one of his days off, but you also don’t want to have your place smell of mildew for the foreseeable future.
With a short, terse knock, you wait with a huff as seconds pass by before the door swings open, revealing a shirtless Jack in crutches.
“Oh, um. Shit,” you rapidly turn to look away, oblivious to the fact that Jack is staring at you with a smug grin. “Sorry Abbot for intruding. My place flooded and the maintenance won’t get here til Monday and I don’t have a large enough fan to dry out the bathroom. Do you happen to have a fan I can use?” Your eyes are on his socked foot as blood flows to your face. You know that he is an amputee, but you have never seen him without his prosthetic on, let alone shirtless without it on.
“How’d you manage that?” He asks with a cocked head, finding amusement in the situation.
“I went to start a bath and then fell asleep,” you admit bashfully as he chuckles softly, opening the door wider.
“You can take my fan, I just need it back once you’re done,” he gestures towards his bedroom, leading you down the hall as you try to keep your gaze on the walls and not his toned back and arms, flexing with each move of the crutches. “Don’t electrocute yourself and don’t short circuit the fan, okay?”
Rolling your eyes, you pick up the fan and wrap the cord around the base. “Don’t worry old man, I’ll make sure to watch youtube videos on how to properly plug it in without shocking myself,” you tease as he laughs, a brevity of calmness settling between the two of you. “Thank you, Jack. I swear I don’t intend on making it a habit to rely on you for help.”
He smiles softly, pursing his lips and lowering his head, his hazel eyes piercing yours. “Don’t worry about it. I will always help you out.”
The third time you knock on his door it’s well past midnight and you’re starving. It’s not like you don’t have food in your apartment, because you do, it’s just that it’s expired save for one singular box of mac and cheese. And you don’t have any milk. Your stomach grumbles in vengeance as you let out a sigh. It’s really pathetic that you are walking to your attending’s door to ask for milk.
Your hand curls into a fist as it raps against the door. Despite it being past midnight, Jack’s light is on and you can hear some moving around behind the door as he opens it, revealing a mouth watering scent. “What do you need help with this time,” he teases, leaning against his door frame, biceps straining against an old shirt as he crosses his arms, intentionally flexing.
It takes a second for you to wrap your head around the fact that he answered, mind preoccupied with trying to decipher whatever he was cooking as it makes your stomach rumble.
“I- uh, I’m out of milk, do you have some to spare?” Your eyes flicker past his face and see his kitchen counter, somehow organized despite there being utensils and flour everywhere while Gordon Ramsey plays on his tv in the background. “What are you cooking?”
He looks back for a second before returning his attention to you. “Spaghetti carbonara. Would you like to join?”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t,” but Jack doesn’t accept that for an answer as he gently grabs your arm and pulls you inside.
“I have more than enough, come on.”
—-------
“So like, what don’t you do?” You ask, shoveling some pasta into your mouth with a moan that doesn’t go unnoticed by Jack. Swallowing the food, you set your fork down onto the now empty plate. “You’re an ER doctor, a SWAT medic, you do yoga, you workout, you cook, so what don’t you do?”
He smiles as he wipes his face, napkin laying discreetly over his lap. “I don’t go out,” he offers, taking a sip from his wine glass, his eyes trailing your face.
Shrugging your shoulders, you lean back, stomach pudging out from the food that you ate. “Well, I don’t know where you learned to cook, but man, that has got to be the best food I’ve had in a while.” Your eyes land on his face, softening in appreciation. “Thank you Jack. I really appreciate you feeding me.”
“It’s no problem,” he stands from his chair, collecting his and your plate before plopping them in the sink and you take that as a sign to start heading out the door. “If you run out of food non expired food again, just let me know and I’ll make you something.”
The next morning a knock echoes through the apartment and in the doorway is a man who you’ve never seen with arms full of bags filled to the brim with groceries. “Are you (Y/N)?”
“Uh yes?”
“Here’s your order,” he hands the bags of groceries off and leaves without much of an explanation. Looking down at the groceries, you take note of a piece of paper lodged into one of the bags.
Something other than mac and cheese and not expired. Dinner at my place before work?
Jack
The one time he knocks on your door it’s on a morning where your schedules don’t line up. The knock is heavy as it wakes you from a fruitless slumber. With tired eyes, you drag yourself out of the bed and wrap a robe around your frame, shuffling toward the door.
What you don’t expect to see is Jack leaning against the frame, eyes sunken in and bag at his feet. “Jack?” You know he has rough shifts, who doesn’t have rough shifts in the ER, but he has never once sought you out. Robby is normally the go to comforter on the roof of the hospital. Not that you know that of course, because you don’t.
Jack looks down to his feet, unsure of himself. “Can I come in?” You move to the side and he kicks his bag in, much to your shock. Jack Abbot is normally a collected individual, always keeping his cool under stressful situations, but you haven’t seen this side of him.
With wary eyes, you watch as he situates himself onto your couch, hands fiddling with his prosthetic and trying to get it off. “Here, let me,” you jump into action, kneeling in front of him and removing his hands. You know that whatever state he’s in right now he is only going to harm himself trying to get the prosthetic off.
He scoffs but obliges all the same, “if I had known that this would have gotten you on your knees for me, I would’ve come to you more often.” The words slip out of his mouth before he can process them as you freeze, hands seemingly glued onto the outer shell of his socket as your eyes widen. “Fuck shit, sorry, I didn’t mean that.”
It takes you a second to recover from his words as you remove his leg from the socket, setting the prosthetic to the side. “Are you ok?” Your eyes try to find his but he’s staring at your wall, refusing to meet your gaze. “Do you want some water?” He doesn’t say anything as you move to stand. Before you can get away into the kitchen his hand shoots out and grabs your wrist, pulling you in between his legs as his face buries into your stomach, arms wrapping tightly around your waist.
Even though you have known Jack for three years now as a friend and a resident, never has he hugged you, and if you’re honest with yourself, you hope that he hugs you again, and not just in a seeking comfort manner. “Can you just hold me?”
Putting aside the fact that you and him have been teetering on the brink of being something more than friends and the fact that he’s your attending, you allow your hands to find purchase in his salt and pepper curls, nails scratching lightly against his scalp as he lets out a strangled sigh. It doesn’t take long for you to hear the occasional sniffle or for you to feel a damp spot seeping through your robe but you make no comments on it.
A few minutes later Jack pulls away, wiping his tears with the back of his hands while you take a seat next to him, hand resting on his thigh as he collects himself. “I’m sorry for barging in like this.”
Shaking your head, your hand reaches back and rubs soothing circles into his back. “Don’t even sweat it. I’ll always be here for you.”
He smiles for what you don’t know is the first time since before his shift started. “And I you.”
Don’t mind me, just imagining a post gym session quickie in the locker room with Jack, him pressing you up against the lockers bc he just can’t keep his hands off you
