Fanwoman?

I reblog a lot.

[r4bidabbott]

I love the yearning men thing you got going on and wanted to run this idea by you: super independent woman reader who just does stuff for herself and thinks nothing of it because that is how it always has been. Pair her with acts of service Jack Abbot. She is a brand new attendant on nights and he is smitten at the first trauma. He can’t get an in because she is just too competent on her own. What do you think?

oh how i love you jack abbot

you had only been the attending at PTMC for a little over a week, transferring from a different hospital due to cuts in staffing. it didn't bother you that you were forced to move, just a change in scenery that you were more than capable of handling. the night shift crew adored you. you were quick to help, fast on your feet, and always prepared. someone didn't bring any food? you packed extras. room needed cleaned for an incoming patient? you had a minute to spare even if it wasn't your job. someone needed an iv placed asap? you were already gloved up and doing it.

you were jack abbot's dream woman. he loved your intelligence, always quick to correct a resident or help whenever they were stuck. he loved your determination, tongue always slightly poked out when you were extra focused on whatever task was at hand. he loved your humor, not afraid to crack a joke when things were tense. you were a total package. what he loved a little less was your independence. it was getting in the way of him making a move. the first instance of your independence getting in his way was your second day. you were getting ready to transport a patient to a different room, the man on the bed a hefty size. "i can do that," jack blurted out as he watched you begin to slowly push the man. you raised an eyebrow at him, a smile spreading across your lips. "i'm already going this way. thank you though," you spoke, walking right past him to continue on your way.

the next time was during a rather busy shift. patients were in and out, chairs were filled, and rooms were taking longer than necessary to strip. he had moved to stand beside you as you looked over a chart at the nurses station, eyes glancing to a room that had a dirty sign on the door. "i'll clean that," he spoke, moving to walk towards the door. "already done. you can take the sign down though," you hummed, shooting him a quick smile before you were turning to head to another room. it had been like that everyday. jack would try to do something to make your life easier, but you were always 5 steps ahead of him. you were never rude about it either, a smile on your face as you told him that he was too late. it drove him crazy.

it was the end of shift, and he had fought with himself all evening about how he was going to make a move on you. you were younger than him, gorgeous, and stupidly smart. it was only a matter of time before someone was going to make a move. he had to do it first. he was busy in conversation with ellis, glancing every now and then to make sure you hadn't left yet. he wanted to walk you out to your car. dr. ellis was busy rambling, sucking him into conversation that he hadn't even noticed you walking out the door. "god dammit," he grumbled, running a hand over his face as he caught the tail of your ponytail swinging out of sight. "you look miserable. rough shift?" robby came up beside him, setting his bag down before looking over to jack. ellis couldn't help the snort she let out, jack shooting her a death stare. "am i missing something?" robby questioned, leaning against the counter as he looked between the two. "it's the new attending," ellis spoke, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

jack was quick to roll his eyes, shoving his things into his bag with annoyance. "you don't like her?" robby questioned, making his way to look over the screen of patients. "i can't do anything for her," jack mumbled, running a hand through his mess of hair. robby was quick to snap his head to look at him, eyebrows furrowing together. "why is that a problem?" he asked confused, ellis continuing to snicker. "because i like to do things," he shot back, throwing his bag over his shoulder. robby raised an eyebrow, his gaze moving from jack to ellis. "because he has a fat crush on her," ellis finally let out, a loud laugh leaving her lips causing jack to quickly shush her.

all he needed was word getting out that he was head over heels for the new attending. enough gossip went on around here, there didn't need to be more. "i don't. shut up would you?" he grumbled again, glancing around quickly to make sure no one heard. "you literally reorganized the entire supply closet alphabetically because she couldn't find something the other day," ellis shot back quickly, robby letting out a low chuckle. "completely unrelated. goodbye," he mumbled to the both of them before he was rushing out. he didn't understand. you weren't refusing his kindness, you just never looked for it, never waited for it. if something needed done, you just did it. and you continued doing it.

it was 2 more months of absolute torture for him. it was like he was swinging, missing, and striking out at every opportunity that presented itself to him. you knew he was trying, it gave you butterflies. but it wasn't what you wanted. you wanted him to be straight up with you. ask you out to dinner. make a move. not try to impress you or do things for you. he was exactly your type too which made it so painful to not allow him to try to play superman. it always made you smile, the way he would fumble over his words around you. it kept you up night thinking about his embarrassed smile whenever you caught something he had missed.

the energy in the emergency department that night was.. calm. no one would say that though out of fear things would get hectic. you were busy working on a chart, going to take a sip of your coffee when you realized it was empty. a soft sigh left your lips as you made your way to the break room, pushing open the door to reveal jack stood there making coffee. "you beat me to it," you hummed, leaning against the wall as he turned to face you, a small shrug of his shoulders as he smiled at you. "i needed some. surprised you didn't have it done already," he spoke, moving to pour himself a cup before turning back to you. "you needed some or you noticed i was almost out so you made more?" you teased, moving to stand next to him. you could see his cheeks turn a light shade of pink, a loud laugh leaving your lips. you caught him.

jack decided then and there that he would make a fool of himself everyday if he got to hear your laugh again. "y'know i have a confession to make," you started, turning to face him as you leaned against the counter. he raised an eyebrow, taking a small sip of his coffee before setting it down, leaning against the counter to match you. "i've been waiting," you spoke softly as you looked up at him, a much softer look on your face than he had seen on you before. he almost choked on his coffee, his hand moving to mess with his cup. "you've what?" he asked, eyebrows furrowed together. "i've just been wondering when you would stop trying to help me and realize i don't need someone to do things for me," you hummed, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. his cheeks were now a bright red, skin feeling hot.

he swallowed hard as you took a step closer to him, not being able to spit any words out. "i need someone who wants to be with me. not save me," you spoke, your arms crossing over your chest tightly. he felt fireworks going off in his stomach, his bottom lip sucking between his teeth. he hadn't felt butterflies for a woman in years. "so are you going to actually ask me out?" you spoke, smiling up at him still. his whole body felt like it was on fire. he nodded, his hands moving to rub over his scrubs. was he nervous? you cocked an eyebrow up at his silence, nudging him with your elbow.

"would you like to have dinner with me?" he finally spoke, feeling like he was choking on his words. "i'd love to. when?" you questioned immediately, a small chuckle leaving jack's lip. he felt like all the nervousness had melted off of him at your acceptance. "you know.. for someone who is so independent, you're awfully impatient," he teased, causing you to immediately roll your eyes and laugh. "impatient? i have been waiting two months," you mumbled, grabbing your coffee from the counter. "fair enough," he chuckled, leading you to the door of the break room. the sound of your pagers went off, alerting to an incoming trauma. "dinner will have to wait," he smirked to you, grabbing the door handle before you could to open it. "it will be worth it," he winked, following after you out the door. you finally let him do something for you.

[abbotsmyhabit]

Never Seen Hazel Eyes Look So Black

summary: based on this ask, tweaked just a touch. pope cody comes home to find his girlfriend with a black eye. he is not happy.

content warning: MDNI! established relationship, mentions of violence, angst, fluff, some lil sexy things but not full smut, guard dog pope but he's lowkey domesticated by reader ;)

word count: 1.6k (i actually don't know how to be brief)

authors note: i'm so sorry this took so long but i hope it satiates anons desires :) i took it in a more soft direction but if anon would like to see pope beat the shit out of someone for his girl just send another request.

in my heart this is a follow up to Bodyshot but you don't have to read one to understand the other at all

Pope pulls up to your apartment complex a little before eleven at night and is surprised to see your bedroom window illuminated by the warm light of your lamps. You’re not supposed to get off work until midnight. His mind immediately goes to the worst case scenario but he tries to calm himself down like you’d shown him, taking four long, deep breaths. Maybe you just left the light on for him? You had told him to come over whenever he liked to wait for you, wanting nothing more than to take a hot shower then crawl into bed together. Pope had gotten there early just to be in your space, your home. 

Even if you weren’t going to be there he always felt better in your apartment, your sweet smell lingering in the air, your quirky trinkets tucked randomly on shelves and corners, your scraggly little rescue cat, Thimble, who had grown rather fond of Pope ever since the two of you started seeing each other. Pope tried to play down how much he loved that Thimble loved him so much. Something so small and delicate as her had decided that Pope was safe, that his lap was where she preferred to sit. The first time Thimble sat on Popes she purred and purred so much he asked you if something was wrong with her which made you laugh, she’s happy, you had said, scratching your little grey cat's head, she likes you. 

Pope walks up the long pathway to your apartment, his fingers drumming on his set of keys with nerves as he breathes in increments of four. He takes the steps two at a time, fumbling a little with the keys before pushing into your apartment. Thimble greets him with a little chirp and he scoops her up calling your name.

“Andrew?” He hears your voice coming from the bathroom.

“Hey,” he says, a bit of fear in his voice, as he walks down the hall towards the closed door, “why are you home so early?”

He hears you sigh behind the door.

“You have to promise not to freak out,” you say softly. He says your name in an almost pleading tone, placing Thimble on the ground. He tries the doorknob but it’s locked.

“Unlock the door,” Andrew says and you can already hear him panicking. 

“Andrew,” you say, soft but firm, “promise,”

“Yes- I- I promise,” he stutters out. The lock clicks and you pull the door open. You’re still in your work clothes, your hair tied back, and a blossoming, purple bruise under your left eye. Pope turns white as a ghost, all the color draining from his face as he pushes into the bathroom, taking your jaw so gently in his hands like he’s afraid you might break.

“What happened?” He says, eyes moving rapidly across your face, looking down your body for any other injuries. 

“Andrew,” you say softly, resting your hands on his chest, “I’m ok,”

“You’re not-” he says, you can hear his breath picking up, “your eye-”

“I am,” you insist, “you promised not to freak out,”

“You’re hurt-” he says, and you can swear you see a tear twinkle in his warm, hazel eyes. He strokes your cheek so softly it makes you feel like you could melt. All at once his eyes seem to turn a shade darker, “who did this to you?” 

“It was an accident,” you say, but Pope is shaking his head, his mind is already spiraling: was this a message from Smurf? A rival crime family? Something worse? Pope swallows hard trying to stay calm, for you. His hands drop down to your waist, squeezing your hips, and you can practically feel him vibrating with rage. You wrap your arms around his neck, sliding your fingers into the curls on the back of his neck, his face softening the slightest bit.

“Can we please go sit down?” You say sweetly and he, of course, obliges you. Taking a deep breath before turning, taking your hand firmly in his and bringing you out to your plush, blue sofa. In the seconds it takes for the two of you to reach the couch, one of his intrusive thoughts spills out…

“Was it one of my brothers?” He says, sharply turning to you, making you walk right into him.

“What?” You furrow your brow, squeezing his hand in yours, “Andrew, no, of course not,”

You sink down onto the soft, blue cushions pulling him with you. You drape your legs across his lap, he rests one hand on your knee and the other is snugly around your hip, pulling you into him. 

“Please tell me,” he says, and it comes out like a whimper. Like he’s begging you. 

“Kiss first,” you say, reaching up to cup his cheek. Pope looks at you pleadingly, wondering why you won’t just say it. You, on the other hand, aren’t trying to torture him but to keep him calm.

“I need you here with me,” you whisper, leaning into him, your lips brushing against his. And it’s you… and he can’t help himself. He melts into you, your mouths moving together with sweet devotion, before you pull away slowly, placing another small kiss on the corner of his lips.

“Ok,” he murmurs, his dark lashes fluttering on his cheeks before he looks back up at you. Even with the purple bruise blooming across your eye you still look so pretty.

“What was that?” You giggle, your sweet boyfriend not realizing he said that last part outloud. 

“What?” Pope furrows his brows.

“You said ‘so pretty,’” you smile at him. He blushes and looks down where his hand rests on your knee. 

“You are…” he says shyly, “so pretty,” 

You press a kiss to his neck, pulling back as Thimble jumps up on the couch looking befuddled as to where she should sit, seeing Pope’s lap taken. She lets out a tiny meow.

“Oop, I’m in her spot,” you laugh, tucking your legs to the side, your thighs pressed against Pope’s as Thimble climbs into his lap, curling into a little silver swirl.

“Thimblina needs you here too,” you say, scratching her little head as she purrs contentedly in Pope’s lap.

“Please tell me,” Pope says softly, “I- I won’t freak out… again,”

You sigh.

“There was this group of guys at the Drop, I don’t know, maybe a bachelor party,” you say, “they were pretty rowdy but really only with each other.”

Pope feels heat swell in his chest, if one of those guys tried to touch you, hell if one of them tried to talk to you, he would not be happy.

“I see those little wheels turning,” you say, tapping on Pope’s forehead, “patience, my sweet,”

He lets out a sharp breath, nodding, trying to stay steady for you.

“Anyway, they were getting pretty… boisterous… and there were these two young women at the bar, really young, like freshly twenty-one, I think,” you sigh, eyes widening for a moment, “and these guys are buying them drinks and shots and the girls are trying to decline but the guys clearly don’t like the word no. So, I walked around the bar and got between them and told the girls to come sit at the end of the bar with me and I’d get them to leave. I told Deran to cut the guys off. One of them really didn’t like that.”

Pope is trying. He is really trying to be calm but his hands are starting to clench into fists. His mouth in a straight line. 

“So, he comes over to me trying to be all macho or something telling me to fuck off and mind my own business. I told him it was time to go home before he embarrassed himself more than he already had and then he swung at me-”

“What did he look like?” Andrew cuts you off, voice rough, eyes dark again. 

“Can I finish my story please?” You tilt your head to the side and he gives you one sharp nod, “he missed. Like fully. He wasn’t even close. Maybe a foot or two off. It was actually impressive how bad it was. But apparently chivalry is alive and well at the Drop because a bunch of other guys jumped him right away. One of the good samaritans who intervened, another really young guy, clipped me in the eye with his elbow instead,”

“By mistake?” Pope says, in utter disbelief.

“Total mistake,” you nod, “he pulled me out of the scuffle and was genuinely horrified that he hit me and wanted to call an ambulance. He apologized maybe a dozen times. He hardly looked old enough to be in there… he was just a kid trying to help. Craig wanted to beat him up but I called him off.”

“A kid?” Pope breathes.

“Well, I mean as much as a twenty-one year old is still a kid, yeah, I guess,” you shrug.

“Gave you a black eye?” Pope confirms, looking more confused than anything else.

“He was very boney,” you nod, “and very enthusiastic about defending me. Best part is I think little Romeo got one of those girls' numbers. Very cute stuff.”

“But the guy who tried to hit you,” Pope shifts in his seat and Thimble jumps off his lap, snuggling next to him on the couch and he holds his head in his hands, “I should have been there,”

“Andrew,” you say, keeping your voice steady, “there is literally no way to have known this would happen,”

You take his face in your hands making him look at you.

“And it means more to me that you’re here now,” you say as he brings his hands up, resting them on your wrists, stroking your soft skin with tender intention, “ok?”

“Ok,” he murmurs. 

“Also Craig and Deran beat the shit out of the guy that tried to hit me,” you say, giving him a small smirk. 

“I should have done that for you,” he says, eyes wide and almost sad, “I’m your boyfriend,”

“You are,” you say, climbing into his lap, straddling his waist, “but I need you for something much more important,” you drop your face to his neck, placing little kisses down his throat. Pope’s mind starts to get hazy, swirling in lust for you as he grips down on your hips.

“What- uh-” Pope stammers, the feeling of your mouth on his skin, the pressure as you grind down on him, making him short circuit, “what do you need me to do?”

“Mm,” you hum against his neck, “shower with me?”

“Ok,” he sighs, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he stands, hiking you up with him. You let out a little squeal as he lifts you, carrying you to the bathroom and placing you down softly on the cool tile. You turn on the shower, steam and heat slowly filling the room, turning back to him slowly. 

Pope takes a small step towards you, your chests nearly brushing together as he takes the hem of your shirt between his fingers. You raise your arms and he pulls the top off you, his knuckles dragging across your soft skin, dropping it to the floor. You do the same to him, pulling his t-shirt off his sculpted body, making a little pile of clothes in the corner. 

The pair of you can’t help yourselves any longer, grabbing for each other, moving your mouths together in a slow, desperate kiss. Pope unhooks your bra, the flimsy fabric falling to the floor and you both start fumbling with the button to the other's jeans as you slide your tongue in his mouth. 

Pope lets out a little moan, licking the cupid's bow of your lips as he slips his tongue past your lips. You both get out of your pants, fully naked, and he backs you carefully into the shower, holding both your hands in his as you step over the lip of the tub. Your heart flutters with how careful he’s being with you. Pope steps in the shower after you, pulling the curtain shut and wrapping his arms around you as the two of you make out lazily in the shower.

You nibble on his bottom lip in a teasing, tantalizing manner and he drops one of his big hands, taking a handful of your ass in his rough palm. You let out a little squeaking sound into his mouth which he swallows with hunger. Fingers tangle in his wet curls as your tongues roll over one another’s slow and dreamy. 

Pope pulls back, making you moan in playful frustration. He cradles your face in his hands and brings his lips up to your cheek bone, just where the bruise flowers across your skin and presses the gentlest constellation of kisses on your little black-and-blue mark. You blush and tuck your face into his neck, your arms around his waist as he draws little shapes on your lower back. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Pope mumbles into your skin after dropping his head to your shoulder.

“Even with my shiner?” You pull back, twisting one of his little curls between your fingers. His eyes drift over your face, your flushed cheeks, wide eyes, plush lips… you couldn’t be more perfect if you tried.

“Makes you look tough,” he squints with a cheeky smile. 

“Oh yeah?” You smile back. 

“Mhm,” he hums.

“So I guess I don’t need you around when I’m working then,” you tease, “all the guys will know to back off,”

Pope pinches your side lightly making you yelp out a giggle, tightening your grip on him.

“When’s your next shift?” He says, eyes dropping to your mouth.

“Tomorrow,” you say, batting your wet, dark lashes at him. He leans forward, ghosting his lips over yours.

“I’ll be there,” he says, low and rough, before giving you a sweet, lingering kiss.

[abbotsmyhabit]

andrew cody who sneaks into the bathroom after staying over at your place to brush his teeth with his finger as usual and spots an unfamiliar green toothbrush in the little cup where your purple toothbrush has always sat. his throat immediately gets tight. he didn’t realize you were seeing other people. he certainly isn’t. and in a moment of hurt more than anger he grabs the green toothbrush and walks back out to your bedroom.

“what is this?” andrew says, holding up the toothbrush, as you rub your eyes and roll towards him with a groan.

“mm… good morning,” you hum, trying to wake up, “toothbrush,”

“whose toothbrush?” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you, trying not to sound desperate.

“yours,” you say, voice still scratchy with sleep.

“this isn’t mine,” andrew says.

“well, i guess technically not yet, yeah,” you sigh, sitting up and shifting closer to him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, “you gotta use it first,”

andrew just sort of stares blankly at you and you finally wake up enough to catch on to what’s happening in that head of his.

“i got it for you,” you say, threading your fingers through his curls which have fluffed up with sleep, “for when you stay here,”

“you got this for me?” andrew blinks at you.

“well, i know it’s not the most romantic gift,” you smile, placing a kiss on his shoulder, exposed by his muscle tee, “but i thought it might be nice,” you mumble against his skin.

andrew drops the toothbrush on the bed next to him and takes your face in his hands, kissing you sweetly. you giggle against his lips, pulling yourself closer to him.

“thank you,” he says your name tenderly, forehead resting against yours.

“you’re so sweet,” you say, placing another quick kiss on his lips, “it’s just a toothbrush,”

“no- it’s-” andrew sighs trying to collect his thoughts, “it’s just nice that you thought of me,”

“well, i think about you a lot,” you smile.

“yeah?” he says, a blush spreading across his cheeks.

“mhm,” you nod before leaning forward, peppering kisses to his neck softly, “i like you,” you murmur between kisses.

andrew sighs, his eyes fluttering closed, god he likes you so much. in a little burst he grabs you by your hips, lifting you around his waist as you grab the back of his neck with a giggle. he stands, swiping his toothbrush from the bed, carrying you to the bathroom.

“andrew,” you squeal, “what are you doing!”

“i gotta try out my new toothbrush,” he says, placing you gently on the counter next to the sink. he stands between you legs as the two of you brush your teeth, giggling and exchanging minty kisses. you both rinse, smiling almost shyly at one another before he passes you a little hand towel to wipe your mouth with.

“so…?” you say, resting your hands on the edge of the counter, leaning towards him, “i’d like the review for your new toothbrush,”

andrew just smiles at you, pushing further between your legs, resting his hands on your waist. he places a soft kiss on your lips, your mouths moving together slowly. he pulls you closer with a sharp tug, slipping his tongue past your lips, the sharp sweetness of peppermint dancing in your mouths.

[kiraavi]

𑣲ﾒ૦ﾒ૦.ᐟ pope cody + tummy kiss

It's one of those days where it's so hot that you don't dare to even think about stepping outside. The kind of heat that leaves you lounging around the house in various states of undress. For Andrew, it results in him forgoing wearing a shirt. All day he's been walking around the house seemingly oblivious to how good he looks and how it's been affecting you. Shorts sit deliciously low on his hips. The wide expanse of his stomach is on blatant display. It's driving you about as insane as the sticky, suffocating heat is.

"Are you torturing me on purpose?" You ask as you flop down onto the couch next to him and collapse against his side. He shuffles, one arm instinctively bringing itself around you.

"I can't control the weather," he grumbles. Huddling up to him isn't exactly helping your situation. You can feel the warmth transferring through the skin to skin contact.

"I'm not talking about that," you say, peeling yourself off of him before moving to the floor in front of him. His eyebrows shoot up. You tip your head lower to brush your lips against his knee, peering up at him through your lashes. "You've had this beautiful tummy on display all day."

"What?" He looks so surprised, as though that's the last thing he expected you to say. It's not like you've been very subtle about your fondness of his stomach in the past, and yet each time he has the nerve to act like it's the most outlandish thing he's ever heard—like he's not the most gorgeous man on the planet.

"You. Heard. Me." You punctuate each word with another kiss, each one moving up and up, over his thigh, until you've reached the wide expanse of his abdomen. Warm and supple and damp, a drying layer of sweat having settled over his skin. You bring your lips right below his belly button and place a kiss on his soft skin. The muscles there tense beneath your gentle touch, and when you peer up at him his entire face is red to the tips of his ears.

"Walking around, flaunting how handsome you are," you tease.

"I wasn't… doing that," he murmurs.

His reaction doesn't deter you—it does the opposite—it motivates you. It's endearing how flustered he gets, and addicting to garner that kind of reaction from him. He also makes it something incredibly easy to pull off. You plant a series of kisses over his stomach, stopping to nip a couple of times, and draw the sweetest sounds from him.

Eventually, desire gets the better of you and your tongue darts out to lick a stripe from his navel down to the edge of his shorts. The action details exactly what you want to do next, but don't commit to. Neither of you are in the position to be working up a sweat in this kind of heat.

He lets out a startled sound, and his knee jumps beneath you. You lean back with a cheeky grin, your hands braced on his knees as you push yourself to your feet. An idea has popped into your head.

"A cold shower sounds nice right about now, doesn't it?"

"Please…" He says breathlessly, so easily wound up.

Check out my 1k follower celebration here!

[pope-codys]

thinking about the first morning after with pope at smurfs house.

he picked the right night, smurf is away with her boyfriend in las vegas and coming back the next day so she can't ruin it. his brothers waggle their eyebrows at him and don't bother hiding their smirks behind their beer bottles when the two of you finally break off from the group. baz hurls a comment about "you kids being safe" which causes pope to squeeze your hand tighter as he leads you into the house and to the room that used to be his.

the sex is slow and unrushed, with careful hands and gentle lips and words of assurance whispered into the dark. you find yourself feeling absolutely cherished by pope. he holds you like you're something precious, like you're the most important thing in the world to him. the night is long, full of pleasure you've never had, and you wake up satisfied and deliriously happy.

you're tucked against popes chest, safe and warm, and he is surprisingly asleep. you manage to slip away without waking him, leaving him in the soft glow of the morning light coming through the window. you tug his shirt over your head and tiptoe down to the kitchen to collect you and him some breakfast.

his entire family comes to a halt in the kitchen when you round the corner, barely dressed and walking on shaky legs. to your horror, smurf has come home too and is assembling a large breakfast for her boys. her cold shark eyes watch you sharply, making your stomach twist in fear even as you force yourself to stand a little taller as you enter the kitchen to grab two cups of coffee.

you weave your way around popes family, pointedly ignoring their stares and smirks. you pull the coffee pot from the machine and do your best to pour the coffee without spilling as five sets of eyes burn the back of your head.

you startle when heavy hands rest on your hips, but your body recognizes pope instantly and you relax back into his embrace. he murmurs a comment about waking up without you and takes over collecting breakfast for you both.

with pope in the room things feel a bit less awkward, as though his family knows better than to make any comments. well, everyone but baz. baz sneaks in a comment about how quiet the two of you had been and that it must have been a short lived encounter. your temper flares faster than you can smother it and before you know what you're doing you're telling baz and the rest of the family gathered around the kitchen island that pope treated you so well you forgot your own name, much less how to breathe or make other noises.

you snatch up your plate of food and storm confidently out of the kitchen with pope hot on your heels as you throw in one last remark that if baz wanted to get off listening to other people he'd have to go to another house.

in the safety of his room you drop the façade of confidence and apologize to pope for practically parading around his family in no clothes and broadcasting information about last night. pope won't hear it, instead he pulls you into a long kiss and thanks you. no one had ever bragged about him like that before. most people laughed along with his family's jokes, singling pope out and making him the joke. he liked that you stood your ground and put him first.

you kiss him back and promise that you'll always stand up for him. and for the first time in popes life, he believes it.

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Y/N: Want to help me commit a felony?

Yelena: What the hell? No!

Y/N: Oh, right. My bad. Sorry.

Y/N: *whispering* Want to help me commit a felony?

Yelena: Yeah, of course, whatever you need.

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Bruce: *over comms* I’ll be there as quickly as I can! Apply pressure to the wound and try not to move to much around

Y/N: It’s okay! The weight of the rubble crushing my body is pressing down on my wounds AND preventing me from moving at all!

Bruce: Y/N

Bruce: Sweetheart

Bruce: We’ve really gotta work on your concept of what’s “okay”

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Y/N: *after spending half a day with Frank* I've got a few knives up my sleeves.

Peter: *chuckling nervously* I think you mean cards, Y/N.

Frank: she does not.

Y/N: *Pulling out knives* I do not.

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Y/N: Hi, my name Y/N, but Frank calls me ‘oh my god, what?!’

Peter:

Peter: Huh?

Y/N: Watch.

Y/N: Hi, Frank!

Frank: Oh my god, what?!

[mrsmckay]

[atomikats]

inspired.

[femmefangirl]

the theme of spiderman: brand new day being about non romantic love!! the ongoing throughline being that peter needs to not be so alone, that he needs friends. the way jean's story was about her sister. the way frank cried for peter, was soft with him like that, apologised like that because he cared about peter. the way mj's boyfriend doesn't matter at all because what matters is that she's ned's friend. the way the first person who remembered peter was his best friend, his oldest friend because of their special handshake. the way peter being bruce's friend was enough to snap him back from being hulk. the way peter being jean's friend so that she's not so alone is the entire reason we have an ending as happy as we do.

the way these non-romantic relationships are so important to the story.

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Y/N: *sneaking in at 3am after being out on strict bed rest because of an injury in the field*

Frank: *turning on the light* Where the hell have you been?

Y/N: I was out with Peter.

Peter: *coming around the corner* Oh fun, where'd we go?

Y/N:

Frank: Wanna try that again?

[cryptic-doe]

from what we've seen in the show, you can't convince me that jack doesn't live for a good gossip session. and he's so messy with it too. like he does not care who's around, whether they're the victim or just an innocent bystander, he's talking about the latest gossip with you.

you were sitting at your desk, typing up one of your charts, when jack comes rolling in on a chair beside you. "did you hear about the latest girl of robby's?" he asks you, not even bothering to whisper. that catches your attention almost immediately. far more interesting than the information on screen in front of you.

"no, who?"

"do you remember shannon? she's one of the on call psychiatrists here." you nod. "well, apparently, she and robby hooked up last night and he left in the middle of the night. didn't even bother to leave a note. just up and left."

"how do you know all this?"

"because he's my best friend, sweetheart," he says it in that 'duh' like tone. "he told it to me himself. oh and the tension between them when they ran into each other earlier? it was uncomfortable as hell. you should've been there."

you snort, looking back at your charts. "god, i wish. no offense to your best friend, jack, but he's got a terrible track record with women. and she's so nice too! i can't believe he would ever do that to her."

"trust me, i've tried telling him that. but he just won't listen. no matter how many times-" jack's voice gets cut off with a sharp clear of someone's throat. it's almost comical the way you both simultaneously turn around, only to come face to face with gloria.

"are you two working or gossiping?" she asks with a stern look, crossing her arms.

nothing but a squeak comes out of you. jack might be an attending, meaning he's practically invincible to gloria and her punishment. but you were just starting your residency here at ptmc. she could easily write you off and send you away. but the man comes to your rescue without a second thought.

"don't get mad at her, gloria. she was working and i interrupted her. that's on me," jack says smoothly, shooting her his charming smile. it works well enough for her, since she accepts his answer with a soft hum before walking away.

"we'll finish our discussion later, sweetheart," he whispers to you, shooting you a wink.

flash forward a couple months to a year, and you're both dating. over time you had learned that jack was partially deaf due to his time in the army, so he occasionally relied on sign language to communicate. which he obviously taught you. your movements were a little more rusty and slow compared to his, but he was patient whenever you tried to talk to him using your hands. having this silent way of talking made it so much easier to gossip when at work. because now you didn't have to worry about others hearing you.

ellis and shen stand by the charge nurse's station, watching as you two talk by signing accordingly. "are they gossping in... sign language?" shen asks, taking a sip from his seemingly never empty dunkin cup.

"yeah, abbot started teaching it to her shortly after she got here," ellis answers.

"he never taught us sign language after we started working here."

"true, but we didn't start dating or move in with him either."

shen shrugs, taking another sip. "that's fair."

a loud laugh escapes you at something that jack signs, to which a huff of laughter comes from him in return. there's a small smile of admiration on his face, as well.

"i'm kinda jealous," shen speaks up after seeing that display.

"...yeah, me too. maybe she'll teach us so we can all gossip together."

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

His Spider

Pairings: Frank Castle & Spider!teen!reader, (breif moment with Karen Page and brief mention of Matt Murdock)

Imagine: You show up at Franks doorstep covered in blood from head to toe

Contains/Warnings: blood, mention of death, panic attacks, angst??? Slight comfort at the end, mention of torture, mention of things included in said torture, reader is not tortured…physically at least, parental death… idk what else, reader is described to have a mom and dad

A/N Frank might be a bit ooc since it was a while I wrote for him, but tried my best, also decided to make this into a series, we’ll see if it’s gonna be an actual story or just random parts for the pairings, might do both

Kinda don’t like this one but thought fuck it and we’ll post it anyway

Around 2600 words (not proofread)

Also special thanks to @irisesforyoureyes for giving me this idea 🫶🏻🌟

Little Red masterlist

Hot white blinding waves crashed into your brain tearing at the walls you had so carefully built up. You didn’t even notice the shaking of your hand, or the blood that covered your body — now dark and dried as it stuck to your skin and clothes. Eyes wide open as you stared ahead. You didn’t know how you’d gotten to Frank’s place. Frankly your memory was hazy. Eyes blurry with unshed tears. Mind racing trying to pick up the pieces that were scattered across your brain.

Frank had just glanced out the window when he froze. Stuck in place at the familiar yet unfamiliar way you stood by his door. He was used to blood. He knew how to clean blood out of clothes, knew how it stuck to your skin in an unpleasant way as it dried up — especially when it wasn’t even your own blood. But he didn’t know who’s blood it was that made him feel sick as he watched you. Didn’t know if it was your or someone else’s blood that stuck to your skin, didn’t know if you were seriously hurt or not.

You didn’t even have to knock before the door flew up and one pair of hands grabbed onto your shoulders. In your blurred vision you missed the panicked look on his face. The worry in his eyes. Scanning every part of you for an injury, for a fatal wound. His words fell on deaf ears, not even registering in your brain. And that didn’t exactly ease his worries as he tried to figure out what had happened.

Seeing as you weren’t about to fall into his arms out of exhaustion he deemed you good enough to not be driven to a hospital. Not that it eased his worries for even a second.

His hand moved up to your cheek touching the dried up blood that was splattered on your face in a sickening red color. He took in your scared eyes that were frozen in panic. Frank didn’t think you’d blinked for the entire duration that you’d been there. You were just frozen, your body at times shaking though he didn’t know if it was cause of the cold wind blowing outside or if it was tremors of panic.

“Kid? You hurt?” His thumb caressed your cheek in a soothing motion. The ministrations went unnoticed. “Kid? Hey, hey Kid? Kid? I need you to listen, you hurt? Is it your blood? Kid?” He repeated the words over and over hoping you’d finally hear him.

In the end he moved you into the warmth of his home — or at the very least it was warmer than outside. Your body still shook occasionally with tremors of shock. Body still stiff and frozen as you moved on autopilot as he guided you into the living room. He only left you for a second to shut the door. Frank stared at you for a moment, he didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to help. He’d dealt with you and your panic attacks before, he’d dealt with you when you thought you’d killed a man, but this, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know if you were hurt or not, couldn’t even read your expression on what had happened.

It took him a moment before he wrapped a soft texture friendly blanket around you. Due to your sensitivity now with your spider-powers he’d realized you were far more sensitive to things you touched. Frank might not admit he cares or likes you verbally, but it spoke volumes that he kept your favourite snack around and had bought a blanket for specifically you — well Karen had helped him with it but it was his idea and his money used.

“Kid? Please just…” his voice, tinted with an unfamiliar worrines reached your ears this time. His hand going to the back of your head to keep your eyes on him, despite the fact you looked more through him then at him. “Help me out here, can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong”

“Someone’s out for you? You killed someone? Someone hurt you? Just tell me alright” he licked his lips, head tilting down before he looked up at your face once more. “At least tell me your alright… physically”

Both his hands cupped your face, forcing you to look at him, forcing you back to the present in his living room. Relief filled him as he watched you blink. Eyes darting around the room before they zeroed in on him.

“Yeah? You back? You here? What happened kid?”

It’s quite for several minutes. Your lips parting but no sound coming out as you tried to speak. Tried once more to make sense of what had happened in the last 24 hours.

“I-it’s not my b-blood” your voice was unusually quiet. An uncomfortable, sick feeling slithered its way into your stomach. Eyes zoning out once more as you replayed the events in your head.

“I-it‘s n-not my blood” you whispered once more. Eyes forcing its way up to Frank’s. “N-not my b-blood”

“Shh kid, shhh it’s okay” he moves your face into his chest. Sometimes he was glad to have had the experience to calm down a child, sure you were older than his two children had been but it was essentially the same thing. Frank’s eyes closed. At least he now knew you weren’t hurt physically. You weren’t about to drop dead in his arms in just a few seconds. He wasn’t about to lose another child.

Frank's arms wrapped around you as he kept you buried in his chest. The blanket still wrapped cozily around you. If tears escaped you he didn’t comment on it. Nor did he comment about how he could feel your body shaking. Feel how you trembled with each breath you took in as the panic that had frozen you was let out.

The big bad punisher didn’t know what to do. Arms wrapped around the teenager he’d gotten so fond of. Blood staining their clothes. Waiting for an answer that would never come. Waiting for a finger to point him in the direction of those who broke you. Those who tore you down into a trembling mess. The ones who’d caused tears to fall from your innocent eyes. The ones that caused blood to be splattered over your face.

The punisher needed to know, so he could go after them, kill every last one of them. But Frank couldn’t, not right now. Not when you were clinging to him so desperately. Not when your fingers curled around his shirt so tightly he thought you’d tear it off.

Frank didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t like comforting his children, back then when everything was different. His children never came to him crying with torn clothes and covered in blood.

Frank didn’t do heartfelt moments, he just didn’t. But despite everything he couldn’t help but to comfort you. You were a kid, not him, you weren’t Frank, you weren’t the punisher or Matt Murdock. You were just a kid. And despite being a vigilante you weren’t used to blood covering you from head to toe. You weren’t used to the brutality that your opponents actually possessed. The way they’d come for those close to you. Come at you with everything they’d got. Not caring that you weren’t even in college yet. Not caring of the casualties or consequences. Their ugly big horns had steered your way, twisting themselves into your life. They’d taken their chance and left a big gaping hole in your heart.

His hands carefully went over your body, checking for any fatal injuries, but when he found none he knew, Frank knew someone you cared about had died. If you weren’t hurt physically then it was something mentally. And with the lack of injuries that would of come from torture it only left him with one guess. Something he was far too familiar with.

“Little Red…” He pushed your face away. Staring into your eyes. Hoping for an answer. Maybe Matt would do a better job at this.

Frank's thumb went to your cheek trying to wipe away the blood that marked your skin, if only so you wouldn’t see it in the mirror later on.

“What happened?” he held your head still. Forcing you to look at him once more. Forcing you to give an answer.

“T-they” your words wear weak, stuttering as you tried to recollect what had happened. Your hand subconsciously trying to wipe off the dried blood that stained your hands. Eyes watering up once more as you zoned out, getting stuck in the memory of your parents demise. “T-they k-killed my, my-“ your hands grasped at your shirts collar, tugging it away from your skin. It felt as if your throat closed up, an ugly lump forming itself in your stomach. Breath becoming faster. You tried your best to breath properly, the way Matt told you too when your senses got to overwhelming. But the blood felt like it was stuck on you, itching, everything felt wrong. Everything felt close but too far away. Your hands started to shake again. Was it hot? It felt hot. Where you dying? Maybe? Probably?

You hadn’t even noticed Frank leaving the living room before he returned and pressed an ice pack into your hands as soon as he got you to release your shirt.

It wasn’t the first time Frank had been with you when your spider-senses took over. Or when panic filled you to the brim and poured over. Last time the switch of temperature had helped, so he’d guess it’d help this time too. Last time it had grounded you back to your surroundings and he only hoped it’d do the same the second time.

He needed you calm, needed you to tell him who they killed, and who they were. Frank needed to know so that he could help you the only way he knew how. Stop them permanently from going after you.

It’d taken him some time but eventually he got you to utter out the words he wanted to know.

“My parents” you’d said, staring at him with dead eyes. A fire had started to burn in them. A fire he knew all too well. But if there ever was one thing he agreed with Matt on it was that he didn’t want you to kill anyone, at least not while you were still a kid. Matt and him might have their differences and opinions on killing but both agreed that you weren’t to kill. You didn’t need that on your conscience.

He asked you how, though he knew it was probably too soon to ask. Either way you still told him. Eyes going distant once more.

You told him how they had snuck into your apartment. How you’d woken up tied to a chair. Blurry eyes squinting in the dark as you made out the shape of your crying parents on two chairs opposite from you. Two guns pointed to your head. The one you’d guessed to be the leader had held your head still forcing your eyes open as you watched them hurt your parents. Their ugly dark and twisted minds marking your your mom and dad, torturing them, as if they had information to give. As if they knew who you were at night. Who you snuck out to be after school hours.

How your dad’s sobs broke your heart with each muffled sound that left him. How watching your mom’s scared eyes telling you to run had burned themselves into your mind. How their fingers had twitched in pain. How blood seeped out to cover their white torn clothes. Pools of red forming by their feets. The sickening crack of their bones breaking. Their last breath.

Their last breath. You’d hated how their eyes died. The spark in them leaving. Staring empty back at you as you were cut free. Their bodies discarded on the living room carpet as if they were trash that needed to be taken out. The coffee table was gone, somewhere else to make place for the cruel scenes. Their blood stained the carpet. The carpet you’d spilt hot chocolate on a few days ago and your dad had helped you clean it up knowing your mom would be mad if she saw the stain.

Your hands had moved over their bodies as if to stop the blood that was still slightly seeping out of their wounds. Desperately trying to keep them alive. But they were already dead, there was no saving them. You could save a random woman on the street from getting mugged but not your own parents from being tortured to death.

Bloodstained hands rubbing your eyes to try and stop the tears. Wiping your mouth from the way the salty water stung your busted lip from the week prior (not yet healed to a hundred percent).

You must have sat for hours with your parents lifeless bodies. Eyes blurry and body shaking with sobs. You still didn’t know how you ended up with Frank. It was all a blur before you had raised your arm to knock at his door.

You didn’t know who they’d been, who had attacked you, just that they knew about your nightly activities. They’d wanted information. How you got your powers, where daredevil and punisher were. And even if you’d told them there wouldn’t have been any way to save your parents.

They’d left you there in the living room. A kid, broken and crying. Not seeing you as a threat, without the mask you were just a kid to them, and kids couldn’t do any harm. But a spider could with their venomous fangs.

… Or if said spider was friends with someone everyone was scared off.

Frank had called Karen over after your talk. He’d brought you to his bathroom while Karen made you hot chocolate. He’d done his best to wipe the blood off your hands and face with a wet towel. That was afterward thrown away in case seeing the blood would trigger you in any way. He’d given you spare clothes, that were way too baggy on you since you were still a kid, well teenager but a kid all the same to Frank.

When all was said and done you’d sat on his bed. Hands curled around the big cup of hot chocolate Karen had made you. You sat in her warm embrace until the hot chocolate was cold, tears falling and mixing with the sweet liquid. And when your eyes started to drop and your mind growing more hazy and tired you nuzzled into the comfort of Frank’s blankets. Eyes closing as Karen left to bring the still full cup of hot now cold chocolate in the kitchen.

Frank hadn’t left you until you were fast asleep. Despite his promise to stay with you during the entire night, he had Karen keep you company while you slept instead. His mind on one thing. No one hurt his spider. No one hurts his kids and gets away with it.

Clad in his vest. White painted skeleton skull bright in contrast to his dark coat. Guns held high. He’d be gone all night and the (next) day if he had to, as long as he got a lead and pointed in the right direction no one would stand down to his wrath. No one would be left unpunished when he was done with those who caused you so much pain.

He wasn’t even surprised when Matt joined him. Lately New York had gotten to realize that where one Spider went the Devil wasn’t far behind and the Punisher closer than anyone ever realized.

The Punisher was coming to send them to hell and the Devil wasn’t far behind to greet them.

TAG LIST: @verybadatwriting

[fanficwritinggirl]

𝐂𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

Dr Jack Abbott x F!Reader

Four-Part Series | Complete

Summary: A code black leaves you trapped inside the Pitt with an unstable explosive and Jack helplessly watching from the other side of the glass. With neither of you knowing how the night will end, the feelings you have both been avoiding become impossible to ignore.

Pairing: Dr Jack Abbott x F!Reader

Warnings: Bomb and explosive threat, blast injuries, blood and medical gore, serious injuries, emergency medical procedures, hospital evacuation, near-death situations, panic and anxiety, emotional distress, trauma and its aftermath, protective Jack, angst and hurt/comfort.

Warnings vary between parts. Please read the individual warnings included at the beginning of each chapter.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲.

[fangirl-dot-com]

⋆｡°✩ NSFW MDNI 18+

just thinking that jack abbot, having been so long without touching a woman in respect for his wife, doesn't realize that women these days desire to hear men be loud in bed. he's always thought that the most he was allowed to do are small grunts and puffs of air.

so when he happens to finally give into his carnal needs and falls into your bed after throwing caution to the wind, he's very confused as to why you literally stop him mid-thrust and ask if he's enjoying fucking you as much as you are. he knows he's doing a good job; all that's been flowing through your mouth are high-pitched keens and breathy sighs and his name dancing around a moan when his tip manages to brush the deepest parts of you.

his eyebrows furrow and he painstakingly admits that he's always been quiet even if whimpers and cries fight against his teeth each time you clench around his length. and now you're telling him that you, the gorgeous young resident that managed to get him out of abstinence, wanted him, an old, grumpy attending that didn't know the difference between living and being alive, to scream your name? he can hardly believe it.

well, that is until you manage to hook a leg around his hip, flip the two of you over, and start moving up and down his cock in grinding motions, your clit rubbing deliciously on that thatch of gray hair leading up to his navel, with the need to hear your name fall from his pretty, plushy lips.

"c'mon, jackie," you whimper into the room as wet squelches flow from your sopping pussy and around his dick. "wanna hear you be loud for me. wanna hear it all. I'll ride you all night if I have to. just wanna know I'm doing a good job too."

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