I wanna start opening my DM’s or requests for writing prompts all are welcome 🤗 fluff, smut, anything and everything in between while I’m writing some of my other stories 🥰
Confessions of a Night Shift Nurse - The Pitt SMAU - PT. 12
+18 MDNI
pt. 11 / pt. 13
summary: reader has an accident at work. jack takes care of her <3 1 week time jump.
content: nurse!reader, fem!reader x jack abbot, age gape (reader is late 20s/early 30s), lewd conversations, reader gets hurt (its funny), dennis being a ride or die, kissing at work!, fluff!, romance!, jack being a flirt.
a/n: guys... we're nearing the end. things are about to HEAT UP. i've been trying to figure out how to stretch the story out a bit but honestly i feel like its coming to its natural conclusion. BUT! if you have any blurb requests for this series, please feel free to send me ask!
He hardly uses social media. He really only ever uses it when you send him 20+ videos or reels that say “us lol”, “OMG THIS IS YOU!”, “hehe das me”. He doesn’t really understand it but he thinks it cute because it’s you.
One day he’s scrolling through the videos you sent him and then clicks on a different button by accident REELS it says in big letters across and the first video that pops up is a video of two turtles. He furrows his brow as he watches it confused. Why one is like tapping on the others face? He pulls on his readers to read the caption. “Did you know this is how Male turtles flirt with females?” He looks back at the video and chuckles once.
He finds the paper airplane that you told him was the “send” button and then instead of actually sending it to your profile he clicks “copy link” opens your actual text messages and posts the link there. With a “this is cute. Except it’s the other way around when you want my attention.”
Your phone buzzes it’s a text from Jack. You let out a huff when you see it. “You don’t have to copy the link to send it to me just send it into my inbox.” You reply back.
“Inbox?”
“I’ll show you tonight.” But you can’t help the smile on your face because it’s true. You do annoy the heck out of him when you want his attention.
Confessions of a Night Shift Nurse - The Pitt SMAU - PT. 11
+18 MDNI
pt. 10 / pt. 12
summary: reader gets an abbot intervention from the nightcrawlers. + a cute little flirty blurb! 3 week time jump.
content: nurse!reader, fem!reader x jack abbot, age gape (reader is late 20s/early 30s), lewd conversations, jack and reader are an hr nightmare fr, the night shift being terrorized by the horniness, jack & reader flirting!!!!
a/n: okay when i tell you im still giggling over the blurb i wrote for this 😭 i am in love with this fictional man fr. also, if you have any blurbs you want written for this series, let me know! ill see if i can fit it into the story.
Context- 18+ MDNI migraines, IV set up for pain management, fingering
Summary- you’re at PTMC for a migraine and Jack helps with it
Jack keeps looking back at the door of the room you’re in. Ellis and Shen looked at each other. And then look back at Jack their faces? 100% smug. They clearly see how you being here in the ER in HIS ER is affecting him.
“Are you gonna ask her out?” Ellis speaks up finally.
“What?! No. That’s so unprofessional and unethical..” Jack jerks his head back to them.
“I mean technically it’s not. You met her outside the hospital” Shen says sipping on his Dunkin’ coffee.
Jack just looks at them. And he hears a door open Matteo just left your room finishing the IV set up and then heads to send the blood to the lab and then heads to pharmacy for the banana bag. As another nurse walks in the room taking you to radiology in the bed. You’re slightly curled up on the bed covering your eyes from the fluorescent lights.
Matteo comes back a short while later with the banana bag. “Here’s the banana bag you ordered. For room 5, did you want to wait until the test results came back or do you want me to go ahead and hook it up to her?”
“I’ll hook it up go check on some of the other patients you have.” Jack say leaning up to grab the bag. Shen and Ellis look at each other and then at him. Jack completed ignores them.
The results from your blood tests come back and everything looks relatively normal. Some slight signs of inflammation but that can be normal especially with the migraines. And then the one that made his stomach twist as he scrolled for it. hCG - Negative. He let out a soft breath. Relieved, not that he was concerned you were but it did ease something in his head that from your job you did take those precautions you made him take.
He logs out of the computer when he sees you being wheeled back into the room he heads in with you. “I’m gonna be talking about some sensitive stuff with you are you okay with your friend being in here?” He asks you hoping you get the underlying message I want to talk to you alone.
You nod to your friend and she grabs her bag heading out. “One of the nurses can show you to the coffee station if you want some and we’ll come back and grab you when we’re done.” He says not looking away from you in the dimly lit room. His jaw works hard. He swallows back as you watch his Adam’s apple bob. “Why’d you have to come here?” He asks a little more curtly than he means it to come out.
You scoff out “yeah cause I totally knew you worked here.” You lean back on the bed rolling your eyes.
“I told you I was a doctor.” He grits out, pulling the rolly chair to your bedside where your IV is pulling on the nitrile exam gloves.
“Yeah cause I totally looked you up and found about 1,000 different results in Pittsburgh alone…” you look away from him.
“You looked me up?” Something in his voice seems to crack at that.
You don’t look back at him just yet. “Well you said if I wanted-“
“I know what I said…” he cut you off. “I just wasn’t expecting it to be this way…”
You huff out a laugh “not like I actually planned to be here. This is the one closest to where I live… also I didn’t even know it was you until you spoke. The lights in that room are so dark to protect your anonymity.” You turn your head back to finally look at him.
He lets out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry I was a dick about this. It’s just.. it’s not everyday someone you fucked the night before comes into the hospital the next day..” He huffed out shaking his head.
You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips. “Well it’s not everyday that you see who fucked you the night before.”
That makes a smile pull at the corner of his lips. He shakes his head looking at the floor. “I really do want to again though. Like fuck.”
You can’t help but laugh. He stands up looping the bag over the IV pole. “Have you ever had one of these?”
You nod “it’s been a while but yes.”
Jack nods “okay so just a reminder. There is some pain relievers some vitamins and Benadryl. So it’s gonna make you pretty sleepy. Well put this on so we can monitor you vitals” he stand up leaning over the bed. You can smell his faint cologne on his the same one from the other night that was so intoxicating. You let out a breath that ran across his skin at his neck. He froze. His head tilted towards you. Your faces mere inches away from each other. “You can’t do that here” his voice comes out slightly choked.
“Do what? Breath?” You ask in a snarky tone.
Something in the tone you just gave him sent a shiver down his spine like he wanted to show you what happens when you try to give him attitude like that. He clenched his jaw so tightly it could crack. You see how his scrub top is draped slightly and lifted when he reached for the monitors. Your fingers couldn’t help themselves. As they reached out grazing along the small bit of skin on his side.
He groaned. Literally groaned like the touch could have made him cum as his body trembled. He shot you a warning look. “You gotta stop.” His voice came out hot and clenched. He let out a deep sigh “I want to fuck you just as bad. But this is my work. I can’t do that here…” he swallows hard. “And you’re a patient which could literally get me fired and get me in a lot of trouble with the board.” He looks at you. He closes his eyes standing back up letting out another breath like trying to focus his mind. He looks up at the ceiling, the walls, the window. He shuts the lights off even more closing the blinds completely everything going against his better judgment just this once. “Sometimes I hear these can help with migraines. I’ll still give you the banana bag but I want to help you.” He pulls the curtains just for an extra safety precautions.
You watch him walk around to your side leaning the bed back.
“Can I touch you?” He asks his voice softer and quieter so only you can hear. You nod softly. He lets out a breath, like this is purely just another day at the hospital helping a patient. He urges you to move over in the bed slightly so he can get on the bed. His gaze rakes over you your body wants to turn towards him but he puts a hand on your hip to stay lying on your back.
His hand trails down playing with the edge of your sweat pants you’re wearing. “You have to be quiet.” His voice is low. In your ear. “Do you understand? If any noise comes out of you I could get in trouble.” His voice is a threat. A warning. You nod fervently understandably. That brings a smile to his lips “Good girl” his voice is low and gravelly when he says it and it makes your skin prickle.
His fingers push up under the band of the sweatpants and the cotton panties you’re wearing. The nitrile gloves still on as his finger circles over your clit, once, twice, thrice. You cover your mouth with your hand to not make any noise. As your over hand comes to his scrub top clutching it in your hands tightly. His knee comes over one of your legs and nudges your legs open a bit more for him to slide his fingers along your slickness. He lets out a low groan he can feel your wetness through the gloves even. “You’re so wet” he croons in his low whisper.
You nod tilting your head slightly to look up at him.
“Are you always this wet?”
You shake your head knowing if you uncover your mouth something unholy will escape your lips.
“Only for me?” He situates himself telling you to lift your head up as he rests his arm under your head.
You nod fervently.
“Fuck— such a good girl for daddy huh?”
You swallow back moans as you can feel your folds get slicker than ever as he traces up and down softly. You nod again for him.
“I’ve read medical articles that said orgasms can help migraines. Maybe you get migraines because your sweet little cunt doesn’t get to enjoy those with those other men” his voice turns a tinge jealous from thinking other men touching you at all. “You want me to make you cum?” His is voice low and gruff.
You nod fervently.
“I wanna hear it from your lips.” His voice is smug knowing you’re having a hard time keeping your moans to yourself. “Ask nicely though. Ask daddy to let you cum.”
You take your hand away from your mouth swallowing hard your breath is shaky as your gaze darts to where is hand is between your legs. “Pl-pl-“ your voice stutters. You clear your throat “please daddy let me cum..” you say through clenched teeth trying not to be too loud. As his fingers stop tracing when you stutter.
You clench his scrub shirt when he stops you have to stifle a groan when you look up at him.
His gaze looks down at you, like you’re the prettiest thing in the world. He has an unreadable expression on his face as he looks at you.
Unforgivingly he shoves two of his thick fingers in your silk walls instantly clamp around him. Your legs wanting to clamp shut put he puts a leg over one of yours so you can’t.
“It’s like your body was fucking made for me.” He murmurs against your temple. The heel of his palm starts pressing against your clit as his fingers pull up against your warm silky walls. Your eyes flutter. “You like that?” His voice is smooth.
You nod. Even with all the noise outside the room it feels quiet and steady in this room right now. Just you and Jack. The soft squelching of you and his fingers fills your head.
“Think you can cum for daddy? You’re gonna have to be real quiet though. Or else daddy is gonna get in a lot of trouble.” He croons out.
You nod again shoving your face into his shoulder to muffle any noise coming from your lips.
He has a smug smile on his face as he starts to make his fingers pull up against your g-spot and the heel of his palm pressed against your clit but faster now. You fist his shirt as you can start to feel it building in your stomach. “Jack— I’m—“ you mumble out voice muffled so only he can hear.
“Let go.. I’m right here.” As if on queue your walls start to cramp around him your high feeling just as good as the last time he made you cum. Your body trembles. “That’s a good girl” he whispers in your ear. “Cum for daddy.”
When he feels your walls not clamping on his fingers anymore he slowly withdraws his fingers you almost whine as he does. Not wanting his fingers to leave. He shifts on the bed bringing his gloved fingers to his mouth tasting your sweetness as he hums. “Next time I want to taste you with my face between your legs okay?” His voice back to the raspy doctor voice. You just nod. Your head still in bliss.
He takes the gloves off getting new ones. “How’s your head?”
“S-still hurts a little.”
He nods “but not as much as before?”
You shake your head.
“Good.” He grabs the bag of fluids as he hooks the line up to your IV. “Can I have your phone?”
Your eyes finally open. As you unlock your phone giving it to him. You don’t see what he does it looks like he’s typing so maybe he’s putting in his number? Your stomach flutters at the thought
“I texted myself. So you have my number now. I would really like to take you to dinner or breakfast or whatever” he hands you your phone back.
“Yeah I’d like that” your voice is soft but there’s a hint of a smile behind it. He puts his hand on your thigh. Squeezing it once a smile comes to his lips.
“Text me if you need me. Those nurse call buttons hardly work.” He says as he takes off his gloves and opens and then shuts the door quietly.
A/N - as someone who works in the healthcare field yes you can actually feel wetness through the gloves. It won’t go through the gloves but you can feel the wetness of fluids it’s WILD.
tag list: @evergreen9083 @shawnysimp @itslorena03love
Buttercup is such a cute petname it reminds me of Reese's Cups😭🩷
If John Price calls you Buttercup, Jack Abbot would call you Reese’s Cup.
Maybe you realized he likes them or some shit and start bringing them for him. He’ll stuff one in his mouth mid shift before running off with a wink, “Thanks Reese’s.”
“Hey Reese’s Cup! Can you help over here?”
“There she is, sweetest girl on the planet.”
“Reese’s, what ‘re your plans after shift?”
“Reese’s baby, Dr.Ellis needs you.”
It’s so sweet, maybe too sweet, the way it makes your stomach turn into knots (in the best way possible) when he calls you. Makes Jack a little jealous when he hears other ppl calling you that.
oh to have a stressful day at work & come home to jack making you nap <3
throwing your heavy bag by the door, you pout as you take in the comfortability of your shared home. lower back aching, feet sore from standing & eyes pulling shut with exhaustion, it’s a relief to see a freshly awoken jack. he’s getting ready for his shift, tying his scrub pants with his toothbrush in his mouth when he hears you trudge up the steps. “hey baby” he casually drawls, brushing his teeth and almost not paying attention. almost.
he notices you don’t answer, and is greeted by the sight of you face down in your shared bed instead. you’re slipping quickly as you pout, “hi daddy, missed you.” “missed me?” “yeah” “yeah? you know daddy loves you? hm?”
you nod sleepily, eyes falling shut when he brings his hand up to scratch at your hair. “take a nap for me, honey” “oh no jackie i can’t, i have so much to d-“ “wasn’t asking baby, c’mon, doctor’s orders” lifting you up by your armpits, unclasping your bra and sliding off your work clothes until you’re in nothing but a pair of panties.
jack pulls the comforter over you with a soft kiss to your forehead, “go t’sleep baby, i’ll come give you a kiss before i leave. kay?”
falling asleep to the sound of jack getting ready, the steady comfort of knowing he’s there </3
SUMMARY: When an angry patient attacks you at work, you do everything in your power to hide how bad it is from Jack. Unfortunately for you, his dog, Buddy, knows best, and is quick to alert him to how bad things are as soon as he gets home.
NOTES: Aggressive patient, physical injury, Jack has a retired military dog, the dog is very protective of reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship.
NAVIGATION | PITT MASTERLIST | KO-FI
a/n — technically a part two to dog’s best friend, but can absolutely be read as a standalone !
“I just need you to stay seated for a second, alright?” you say, voice soft, even, the same tone you use with every difficult situation, steady and careful without ever sounding condescending.
The patient doesn’t like it. You see it in the way her shoulders tense, the sharp turn of her head, the flicker of something reactive and unpredictable behind her eyes.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m not,” you reassure gently, hands visible, posture open. “I’m just trying to help you, ma’am.”
The metal tray is already in her hand before you fully register it.
“Hey!”. It’s Samira’s voice, a sharp warning from somewhere behind you, but it comes a second too late.
The patient swings. Not hard enough to seriously injure on its own. But combined with the shove that comes with it, it’s enough. The impact glances off your shoulder, but the force of the push sends you stumbling backwards, your foot catching awkwardly on the edge of the trolley behind you.
There’s a split second where you try to correct it. Your balance almost rights itself. Then, your heel slips.
You go down hard.
Your hip hits first, the shock of it jolting up your side before your shoulder follows, and then your head clips the edge of the cabinet behind you with a dull, sickening crack that makes your vision flare white.
The world tilts. Sound distorts.
You suck in a breath too fast and it catches halfway, your ribs protesting sharply as pain blooms deep along your side, spreading outwards in a way that feels heavy and wrong.
“Shit!”
“Hold her back!”
“Move!”
Hands are on you immediately. Too many. Too fast.
“Don’t move,” Dana says firmly, already crouched at your side, one hand braced against your shoulder to keep you grounded.
“I’m fine,” you manage automatically, even as your voice comes out thinner than you want it to. “I just slipped—”
“You didn’t slip,” Samira cuts in, sharper than usual, already scanning you quickly. “She shoved you.”
“I’m fine,” you repeat, trying to push yourself up.
Your body protests instantly. A sharp, deep pain lances through your ribs and your breath hitches before you can stop it.
Dana presses you back down without hesitation.
“No, you’re not getting up yet.”
“I’m okay,” you insist, though your hand has already moved instinctively to your side, fingers pressing there like you can contain the ache if you just hold it still.
“Yeah,” Langdon mutters, crouching on your other side, one brow raised. “You look fantastic.”
You glare weakly. “I am—”
“You’re wincing,” Mel says gently from behind them. “Just stay down a second.”
Across the bay, Robby steps in, taking in the scene quickly, his expression tightening slightly as he looks between you and the now-restrained patient.
“What happened?”
“They got knocked,” Dana says, not taking her eyes off you. “Hit their head on the way down.”
“I’m fine,” you say again, the words automatic now, like muscle memory.
Robby’s gaze lingers on you a moment longer than you’d like. Assessing. Weighing.
Then, “Get them checked,” he says. “No arguments.”
You open your mouth to argue anyway. Close it again.
The check is quick. Too quick.
Vitals steady. Pupils reactive. A few questions you answer without thinking, even as your head still feels slightly off and your ribs ache every time you breathe too deeply.
“Probably just bruised,” Langdon says, though there’s hesitation there. “Keep an eye on it.”
“I will,” you say.
You go back to work. Of course you do. It’s slower now. More careful. Every movement measured so you don’t aggravate the pain blooming along your side, every breath kept shallow enough to avoid the sharpest edge of it.
You don’t let anyone make a fuss. You don’t give them the chance.
By the time shift change creeps in, you’re running on stubbornness more than anything else.
Your body feels heavy. Your head dull. Your ribs worse. But you’re still standing. That counts for something.
You see Jack the second he walks in.
It’s instinct, the way something in you softens at the sight of him, even through the ache, even through the exhaustion.
He sees you just as quickly, and immediately, his expression changes. “What happened?”
No hello. No lead-in. Just that.
You blink. Too slow. “…nothing.”
His eyes narrow slightly.
You can see him clocking it, the stiffness in your posture, the way you’re holding yourself like you’re trying not to move too much, the faint mark forming near your hairline.
“Don’t do that,” he says quietly.
“Do what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Lie to me.”
You huff a small breath, trying for normal. “I’m not lying. I just got knocked a bit. It’s fine.”
“Knocked how?”
“Patient,” you say quickly. “It happens.”
His jaw tightens. “You hit your head.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“You didn’t ask a question.”
Jack steps closer, his hand coming up instinctively, hovering for a second before brushing lightly near your temple, careful.
You flinch. Just slightly. Jack notices anyway.
“Hey,” he says, softer now. “Talk to me.”
“I am,” you insist, forcing a small smile. “It’s nothing, Jack. Just a bruise.”
“You don’t look like it’s nothing.”
“I’m just tired.”
“That’s not what this is.”
You don’t let him push further. You can’t, because if you stop holding it together now, you’re not sure you’ll be able to start again.
“I promise I’m okay,” you say, gentler now, stepping into his space, your hand brushing his arm. “I’m just going to go home, sleep it off.”
Jack searches your face. Longer than you’re comfortable with. “…yeah?”
You nod. “I promise.”
You kiss him before he can argue again. Soft. Quick. A distraction more than anything.
“I’ll text you,” you add.
He doesn’t look convinced. But he lets you go.
You don’t realise how much you’ve been holding in until you get home.
The door shuts behind you. Your bag slips from your shoulder. Everything collapses.
The pain hits first. Sharp. Deep. Your ribs screaming the second you stop forcing yourself to breathe carefully around it. Your head throbbing dully where it connected earlier. Your whole body suddenly too aware of itself.
Then the tears. They come fast. Uncontrolled. Your hands come up to your face as your shoulders shake, the sound breaking out of you before you can stop it.
“It hurts,” you whisper, voice cracking.
Soft paws hit the floor behind you. Buddy is there instantly.
No hesitation. No distance. Just straight to you, pressing in close, whining low as his nose nudges at your hands, your face, your shoulder, anywhere he can reach.
“Hey, Buddy…” Your voice wobbles as you drop one hand to him, fingers tangling in his fur. “I’m okay,” you murmur, even as you cry. “I’m okay—”
He doesn’t believe you. He licks at your cheek, catching tears, pressing closer until you sink down with him, your body folding as he crowds in, solid and warm and there.
Buddy doesn’t leave your side once. Not when you get up slowly. Not when you change. Not when you ease yourself into bed with a quiet, pained breath.
He jumps up beside you without hesitation. Circles once. Then presses himself along your back, heavy and grounding, his head resting near your shoulder like he’s keeping watch.
You fall asleep like that. Hurting. Exhausted. But not alone.
Jack knows something is wrong before he even gets the door fully open.
It isn’t logical at first. There’s no noise, no obvious sign of anything being off, but the second the latch clicks and the door gives, the silence hits him wrong, too heavy, too still, like something’s settled where it shouldn’t.
Then, there’s movement. Fast. Low.
A sharp bark that cuts straight through the quiet.
Buddy is there instantly, planted between Jack and the hallway like a barrier, body rigid, ears forward, a low, warning growl vibrating through his chest in a way Jack has never heard directed at him before.
“Hey, Buddy…” Jack stills, hands lifting slightly in reflex, not defensive, just careful. “Buddy.”
The dog doesn’t move.
If anything, he braces harder, stance widening, blocking the path to the bedroom completely like he’s guarding something.
Another bark. Sharper this time. Urgent.
Jack’s chest tightens. “Alright,” he murmurs, voice dropping instinctively, steady, controlled. “Talk to me, what’s going on?”
Buddy huffs, pacing a tight step forward, then back, torn between holding his ground and needing Jack to follow.
It clicks immediately. Not aggression. Protection.
Jack’s stomach drops. “…where are they?”
Buddy barks again. Turns. Looks back. Then looks at him.
Jack doesn’t hesitate. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Okay, I’m coming.”
Buddy doesn’t fully relax, but he shifts just enough to allow it, moving ahead of him down the hall, glancing back every few steps like he’s making sure Jack is still there. Still following. Still paying attention.
The bedroom door is half open. The light is off.
Jack pushes it gently. “Sweetheart?”
No answer.
His chest tightens further as he steps inside.
You’re there. Curled on your side, exactly where he expects you to be, and somehow still wrong. Too still. Too tense even in sleep, your body drawn in slightly like you’re protecting something.
“Hey,” he says again, softer now, stepping closer.
Buddy is already at the side of the bed, whining low, tail flicking anxiously, nose nudging lightly at your arm.
You don’t wake straight away.
Jack reaches you in two steps, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed, his hand hovering for just a second before resting lightly on your shoulder.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
You stir at that. Just slightly. A small sound leaving you, somewhere between a breath and a soft groan as you shift without meaning to.
The movement pulls a reaction out of you immediately. A sharp inhale. A wince. Your hand tightening instinctively at your side.
Jack stills. “There it is,” he murmurs quietly.
Your eyes open slowly, heavy with sleep, disoriented for a second before they land on him.
“…Jack?” Your voice is rough. Small.
“Hey,” Jack exhales softly, relief flickering across his face for just a second before it’s replaced with something more focused. “Yeah, it’s me.”
Buddy immediately pushes closer the second you’re awake, nose nudging your cheek, then your shoulder, then settling half across you like he’s making sure you stay put.
“What…” you start, blinking. “What time is it?”
“Too early for you to pretend you’re fine,” he replies gently.
You try to smile. It doesn’t quite work.
“I am fine.”
Jack doesn’t even entertain that.
“Mhm,” he hums, eyes already scanning you properly now, taking in the way you’re holding yourself, the tightness in your posture, the faint shadow of bruising starting to show along your side where your shirt has shifted. “What actually happened?”
“Nothing,” you say automatically. Too quickly.
His gaze flicks up to yours. Flat. Unimpressed.
“Try again.”
You hesitate. Just for a second. It’s enough.
“A patient knocked me,” you admit finally, quieter now. “It’s not a big deal.”
Jack’s jaw tightens immediately. “Knocked you how? You can’t just leave it at that, baby.”
“I fell,” you say. “It’s just a bruise.”
Buddy lets out a soft, unhappy whine. Jack glances at him briefly, then back at you.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “He doesn’t seem to think so either.”
You huff a weak breath. “He’s dramatic.”
“Yeah,” Jack repeats. “Funny. So are you.”
You try to push yourself up. Bad idea. The movement pulls a sharp, involuntary sound out of you before you can stop it, your hand flying back to your ribs as pain flares hot and immediate.
Jack’s hand is there instantly, steadying you before you can even properly lose balance.
“Hey, easy, easy.”
“I’m fine,” you insist again, breath uneven now.
“No, you’re not,” Jack says, still calm but firmer now, his other hand coming up to gently guide you back down against the pillows. “Lie back.”
You don’t argue this time. You don’t have the energy.
Buddy shifts with you immediately, repositioning so he’s still pressed against your side, careful, oddly careful for his size, like he knows exactly where not to put weight.
Jack notices. Files it away.
“Where?” he asks quietly, his hand hovering just above your ribs. “Show me.”
You hesitate. Then, slowly, you move your hand just enough to indicate the worst of it. His touch is light when it comes, fingers pressing gently along the area, assessing. You flinch. Harder this time.
“Shit, okay,” Jack murmurs, more to himself than you. “Yeah, that’s not nothing.”
“It’s just bruised,” you say weakly.
“Maybe,” he replies. “Maybe not.”
You look at him. A flicker of worry finally breaking through everything else.
“It’s not broken. I got checked out. Ask Robby.” He doesn’t answer straight away. Which is answer enough. “Jack, please.”
“Hey,” he says softly, immediately, his hand coming up to your face instead, thumb brushing lightly under your eye where tears are starting to gather again. “Don’t get upset about it. Not your fault.”
“I didn’t want to make a fuss,” you admit, voice cracking slightly. “It wasn’t that bad at work, I just—”
“You came home and cried,” he says quietly.
You freeze. “How did you—”
He glances at Buddy. Buddy, who is currently pressed against you like a guard dog with a personal vendetta.
“Right,” you mutter weakly.
Jack’s expression softens. A lot. “You should’ve told me,” he says, not accusing, just honest.
“I didn’t want you to worry,” you whisper.
He huffs a quiet breath. Too late for that. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” he says gently.
Your throat tightens. “I know.”
There’s a pause. Soft. Then, “Alright,” he says, shifting slightly. “We’re going to fix you up, okay?”
You blink. “We?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Me and him. You know we can’t leave him out of anything.”
Buddy lifts his head slightly at that, like he’s been formally acknowledged.
Despite everything, you almost laugh.
Jack doesn’t rush you. That’s the first thing you notice. Even with the tension sitting tight in his shoulders, even with the way his eyes keep flicking back to your ribs like he’s already running through worst-case scenarios in his head, he keeps everything slow. Measured. Like if he moves too fast, you’ll bolt or break or both.
“Alright,” he murmurs, shifting off the bed briefly. “Stay there.”
You don’t have the energy to do anything else. Buddy does. The second Jack steps away, Buddy’s head lifts, ears pricking forward, a low, suspicious rumble building in his chest again like he’s not entirely convinced this is still safe.
“Hey,” Jack says without looking at him, already grabbing what he needs. “Pack it in.”
Buddy huffs. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t relax. You reach down weakly, fingers brushing through his fur.
“It’s okay, Buddy,” you murmur softly. “He’s helping.”
Buddy’s attention flicks to you immediately. That’s all that matters.
Jack comes back with a small kit, nothing dramatic, just basics, but it’s the way he carries it that tells you everything. Familiar. Practised. Focused.
He sits beside you again, closer this time. Close enough that your knees brush when he shifts.
“Can I?” he asks quietly, his hand hovering near the hem of your shirt.
You nod.
He moves carefully. Slowly lifting the fabric just enough to expose your side. The bruise is worse than either of you expected. Dark already. Spreading. Angry under the skin, the kind of deep, blooming discolouration that makes your stomach twist just looking at it.
“Fuck,” Jack exhales quietly. Not surprised. Not pleased either.
“It looks worse than it feels,” you say automatically.
It’s a lie. A weak one.
Jack glances at you. Doesn’t call it out. Doesn’t need to.
“Does it hurt to breathe?” he asks instead.
“A bit.”
“How much is a bit?”
You hesitate. “More than a bit.”
He nods slightly, like he expected that. “Any sharp pain when you move?”
“Yes.”
“Dizziness? Nausea?”
“No.”
“Headache?”
“A little.”
He takes that in, nodding with a frown. Then his hand comes back to your side, touch light, deliberate, pressing just enough to assess without making it worse. You tense immediately. A sharp inhale slipping out before you can stop it.
“Sorry, honey,” he murmurs, instantly easing off.
“It’s okay,” you whisper, even as your eyes sting again.
“No,” he says quietly. “It’s not.”
That lands. Heavier than anything else has. Your lip wobbles slightly before you can stop it. You look away.
“I really thought it was fine,” you admit, voice small now. “At work it didn’t feel this bad.”
“Adrenaline,” he says simply.
You huff a weak breath. “Yeah.”
There’s a pause. Then, “Hey.”
You look back at Jack. His hand comes up to your face again, thumb brushing lightly under your eye where tears have started slipping free again without you realising.
“You’re alright,” he murmurs. “It looks bad, but you’re okay.”
“I feel stupid,” you whisper.
His expression tightens. Not at you. At the word.
“Don’t,” he says softly.
“I should’ve just stopped. Let them check it properly. Told you—”
“You got through your shift,” he cuts in gently. “That’s what you were focused on.”
“That doesn’t make it smart.”
“No,” he agrees quietly. “But it makes it understandable. I know what you’re like.”
You swallow. Your chest tightens.
“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it,” you say, barely above a whisper now.
“You don’t get to decide that it’s not a big deal,” he replies, not harsh, just steady. “Not when it’s you.”
You don’t argue. You can’t.
Buddy shifts slightly, pushing his head more firmly into your lap like he’s trying to insert himself into the conversation. You let your hand fall to him automatically, fingers threading through his fur.
Jack watches it for a second. Then, “Alright,” he says, softer now. “We’re going to assume bad bruising, maybe a cracked rib. No heroics for a few days.”
You let out a quiet breath. “Okay. I can live with that.”
“I’ll grab some ice,” he adds.
Buddy immediately lifts his head again. Watching. Tracking. Jack pauses. Looks at him.
“I’m coming back,” he says dryly.
Buddy blinks. Considers it. Then settles again, barely. You laugh softly despite yourself. It hurts. You do it anyway.
By the time Jack comes back, you’re more settled. Not better, but calmer.
He helps you adjust carefully, guiding you so you’re propped slightly, a pillow tucked behind your back to keep pressure off your ribs. Every movement is slow. Considered. His hands never far from you.
“Gonna be cold, sorry,” he warns quietly, pressing the ice pack gently against your side.
You flinch. Then relax. “That’s actually nice,” you admit after a second.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Usually is.”
The quiet settles again. Different now. Softer.
You’re watching Jack without meaning to.
The focus in his expression. The care in every movement. The way he keeps checking in without making it obvious.
“You’re not mad?” you ask after a while.
He looks up. Brows drawing together slightly. “Mad?”
“That I didn’t tell you.”
There’s a pause. Then, “No,” he says.
You blink. “Really?”
“I mean, I’m not thrilled,” he adds honestly. “But I’m not mad at you, sweetheart.”
That eases something in your chest. You didn’t even realise it was there.
“I just didn’t want to worry you,” you repeat softly.
“You don’t get to make that call,” he says again, gentler this time. “You tell me, I worry. That’s the deal.”
Your lips twitch slightly. “That’s not a very fair deal.”
“No,” he agrees. “Works for me, though.”
You laugh quietly. It pulls at your ribs. You wince.
His hand is there instantly. “Easy.”
“I’m okay,” you murmur. “Stop being funny.”
“I know. I’ll try,” he says.
Buddy shifts again, this time climbing more deliberately across the bed until he wedges himself firmly between you and Jack, his body pressed along your side, his head settling heavily across your lap like he’s decided his position is now permanent.
Jack stares at him. “Really?”
Buddy doesn’t move. Doesn’t even acknowledge him. You smile softly, your hand resting automatically on Buddy’s head.
“He’s just making sure I’m okay.”
“Yeah,” Jack mutters. “I can see that.”
There’s a pause. Then, carefully, deliberately, Jack shifts closer anyway. Working around the dog rather than moving him. His arm slides gently behind your back, pulling you just slightly closer so you’re supported without putting pressure on your ribs.
Buddy allows it. Barely.
You melt into it. Exhaustion catching up all over again now that everything else has settled. Your head tips lightly against Jack’s shoulder. Your hand still resting on Buddy.
“I’m really tired,” you mumble.
“Yeah,” Jack murmurs softly. “I know.”
Your eyes slip closed. Between them, you’re completely boxed in, warmth at your back, solid weight at your front, hands anchoring you in place like nothing is going to let you fall apart again.
“Stay,” you whisper, barely conscious now.
Jack’s arm tightens slightly around you. “I’ve got you.”
Buddy huffs softly. Settling deeper. And for the first time since it happened, you actually relax. Sleep comes easy after that.
All three of you tangled together in the quiet.
— COME AND JOIN MY TAGLISTS !
ALL PITT: @shawnhatosysrightbicep @goldfishenthusiast67 @snake-in-a-flower-crown @aureliacalista @sheridamn
ALL PITT MEN: @malindacath
JACK ABBOT: @moonlitblossomsofthesun @nebuleuseeeeee @nyxmoretti @oliviarw3
Someone who handles her own business, doesn’t need help and does her job like a pro.
A strong woman who would go toe to toe with a man to prove a point as Jack watches on.
She walks around with confidence, charm and witt that would leave most men speechless
Because he knows that she comes home she loses it all, when she gets home she leaves all of that independence and strength at the door.
Because she needs him to open then jar that’s just a little too tight, reach the pasta on the top shelf she would usually climb on the counter for and be the lap she falls into every night curling up as small as she can be.
To be the man that turns her into a sobbing, whimpering mess when he is balls deep inside of her as he pins her hands above her head as he says “oh it’s too much? - no I don’t think so, I think you’re gonna take it like a big girl”
The man who has he legs pressed to her chest while he fucks he so deep she can see stars, his rough thumb stroking over her pulsing little clit while she’s whines under his touch as he tells her “oh that’s a good girl- doing so well “
He likes them strong because then when she gets home she needs him to take over, to have her bent over, face pressed against the sheets while he fills her with warm ropes of cum as she writhes and mewls at every thrust, begging for more.
I’m not even gonna lie when I say this (probs the ovulation) but since I’m a lab in a small hospital I see a lot of the doctors/ER staff and there is this one guy that is around Dr. Abbot’s age so he kinda has that fading grey in his hair. LET ME TELL YOU! After watching the Pitt and finding my lover dr. Abbot. I start looking at older guys and I’m like ok yeah. And the guy I’m talking about above? Literally if he knew I probably would be tryna get with him no cap. 🤣 thankfully he’s older and doesn’t have social media so he will never see this even if he does? I’ll be long gone 🤣💀
Update: found out he’s not married -not sure if he’s single though- and he’s 60 🫡
You have been working out hard the last 4 months. Like hard and consistent. Sometimes you don’t even really see that you’ve made any progress because you see yourself in the mirror. But you can feel the muscles in your legs but if you’re walking around you don’t really see them but everyone else in the Pitt? Can definitely tell.
One day your scrubs feel a little tight around your thighs and ass. You brushed it aside for the scrubs being freshly washed.
You come into work half tired because the workout from the morning kicked your ass. Still having some of the smell of sweat on you. Jack notices everything about you. No matter if it’s a new shampoo, new body wash whatever it is. He saw the way those scrubs hugged the curve of your hips and the side profile of your ass, was hard for him to look away from. He called himself a tits guy but the way that your ass looked in your scrubs had him hard in an instant.
He tried so hard to hide it walking over to you he already had a limp from standing on his good foot for the past few hours. Because of course he came in early to help Robby. He looked around making sure no one else but him was looking. He slugged off his jacket he had been wearing as if he could pull it down to hide painfully hard erection.
He limped to the bathroom going into the stall so he could sit. This was going to be a long shift. Especially if you were walking around all cheeked up on a Wednesday night. He palmed his erection letting out a huffy groan that he had to keep quiet.
He knew you were going to the gym trying new things but he wasn’t expecting that much of a difference! He felt like a creep palming his dick through his scrub pants from the quick look of your ass in the scrubs. Does he care? Not really.
He shoves the scrubs down just low enough so his dick is out he starts rubbing his hand down his length groaning slightly. He has never once done anything like this-at work at least. To the thought of one of the medstudents… He didn’t care he pushed that thought out of his mind he didn’t care is he was a perv or creepy. It barely crossed his mind.
He bit his lip to help muffle the moans that were escaping his throat. And when he felt the tension build in his spine he stood up turning around to not make a mess he did know better than to make a mess of his scrubs or the bathroom. How humiliating would it be to call EVS to clean up his own mess?
He leaned over the toilet for a moment. Catching his breath. He was in for a long night. He shoved his now soft dick back in his scrubs flushing the toilet washing his hands and then walking back out of the bathroom like nothing had even happened. He sloughed off his jacket he was wearing putting it over your shoulders. “Patients are going to get distracted and will try to grope you walking around with that” he says calmly to you.
You look up at him confused like was that a compliment? Or was he telling you to wear more modest scrubs?
Jack looks back at you as he keeps walking to go take care of one of his patients seeing how the jacket flows and covers your perfect ass. Which he would have to get behind and absolutely rail the living daylights out of you from behind.
A/n- I literally got this idea because I was walking into the bathroom and I’ve been goin mg to the gym and wore a pair of scrubs that literally made my ass look sooo good. So please enjoy some Pervy dr. Abbot 😌
Not me driving by the local tennis courts seeing they are having a tournament for pickleball wondering if Unc Pepaw peoples princess would be there 😌😭🤣
