todays bird
AnasAbdin
hello vonnie
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
KIROKAZE
occasionally subtle
ojovivo
trying on a metaphor
Stranger Things
styofa doing anything
Sweet Seals For You, Always
⁂
Misplaced Lens Cap
d e v o n
Jules of Nature
wallacepolsom
DEAR READER
Game of Thrones Daily
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@pvredelusions
about me.
₊·🍸 ˚💫.*🪞⋆•💸⋆˚🎞️*
20. ria.
lipgloss lover . aries.
she/her. winter.
cute purses. cocktails.
hyper fixations go crazy.
kitten heels . dark red.
current rotation: finn wolfhard. rafe cameron. simon ghost riley.
song choice: on the floor - jlo & pitbull
emergency release
firefighter!rafe fucking ditzy!reader during his shift.
warnings: public? sex, rough sex, overstimulation, guided masturbation, unprotected sex, lewd language.
author's note: hey... how y'all doin....
the firehouse bay is completely dead at two in the morning, the only sound being the low hum of the massive truck engines and the heavy air conditioning. you’re wandering around the concrete floor, your bare feet silent as you look for rafe’s crew locker. you had thrown on a tiny white cotton sundress in a total blur of excitement, completely focused on sneaking into the station to surprise him on his night shift. you were in such a frantic rush to slip out of the house and get to him as fast as possible that you completely skipped your underwear drawer without even realizing it. it was entirely unintentional, but standing under the dim bay lights, the cool draft hitting your bare skin makes you realize exactly how exposed you are for him.
you’re leaning against the side of a massive red engine trying to see your reflection in the polished chrome when a pair of heavy, calloused hands suddenly grip your waist from behind.
"what the hell are you doing down here baby?" rafe's rough, deep voice rumbles right against your ear, making your entire body shiver.
he’s in his full station uniform minus the heavy jacket. his navy blue tshirt stretches tight over his broad shoulders and his dark pants are tucked into heavy leather boots. he looks completely exhausted from a long shift, but the second his large palms sink into the soft flesh of your hips, his fingers tighten painfully, molding your shape.
"i came to see you!" you chirp, turning around in his grip with a bright, wide smile. you wrap your arms around his neck, totally spacey and oblivious to the dark, feral look instantly taking over his blue eyes. "look at my new dress. do you like it?"
rafe doesn’t say a word. his gaze drops immediately to the front of the white fabric, noticing the way your nipples are already poking hard against the thin cotton from the cold bay air. his hand slides down your back, finding the zipper and dragging it down with a sharp tug. when his fingers brush against your completely bare lower back, his jaw goes completely slack.
"you aren't wearing anything under this," he grunts, his voice dropping an octave as he hooks his fingers under the fabric of your hem, pulling it all the way up to your waist to reveal your completely bare, soft thighs and the wet, glistening view between them. "you walked across the street to my station completely naked under a dress?"
"it was a surprise," you whine softly, your head tilting in that dizzy, innocent way that always drives him insane, even as you instinctively arch your hips into his pants. "i just forgot, rafe."
"i'm gonna fucking ruin you," rafe growls, his blue eyes dark and completely dilated.
he doesn't even take you to the bunk rooms. instead, he hoists you up by your thighs, making you let out a loud, needy gasp as your legs automatically wrap around his thick waist. he carries you over to the back of the rescue truck, slamming your back firmly against the cool metal door before pinning you there with his heavy torso.
he doesn't prep you or take his time. rafe reaches down, unzipping his station pants with a harsh, desperate rip, and his erection snaps free, huge, thick, and pulsing heavily with pre cum. he hitches your thighs up even higher over his shoulders, completely opening you up under the dim overhead bay lights. you watch him with wide, dazed eyes, your heart hammering against your ribs as he places the wet head right against your soaking entrance.
with one heavy, arrogant thrust, rafe drives himself completely inside you, bottoming out against your core in one deep, brutal shove.
you let out a loud, choked shriek, your back arching off the metal truck door as your tight walls stretch to the absolute limit around his thick girth. he fills you so completely it steals the breath right out of your lungs, stretching you open so wide it’s an intense, overwhelming ache.
"fuck," rafe groans, closing his eyes as his entire body goes rigid. your wet heat is squeezing him so tight it’s turning him crazy, your inner muscles clamping down around him like a vice. "you're so fucking tight for me. so soft and wet."
he starts moving immediately, his pace completely merciless. he uses his massive hands to grip your hips, digging his fingers deep into your soft skin, keeping you pinned against the truck as he pumps into you with slow, heavy, bottoming out thrusts. every time his pelvis slaps against your soft thighs, a loud, wet, echoing smack fills the empty bay. your mind goes totally blank, completely consumed by the thick friction of him sliding all the way out to the head before slamming back into your depth.
"rafe," you sob out, your fingers flexing helplessly against his broad shoulders as he deepens the pace, the sensation turning your knees to jelly.
"take it baby," he pants, his face buried in your neck as he bites violently at your skin, leaving a dark, messy mark right over your pulse point.
he changes the angle, lifting your hips slightly higher so every hard, ruthless shove hits your sweet spot perfectly. your hips tilt up automatically, matching his brutal rhythm, your airy innocence completely melting into dirty, desperate whines. rafe's pace becomes completely erratic and violent, his heavy breathing filling the quiet station as he uses his pure strength to completely dominate you against the rescue vehicle.
right when the friction is getting too intense, rafe slows down his brutal pounding just a fraction. his heavy hips still grind deeply against you, keeping his thick length buried to the hilt, but his free hand slides right down between your bodies. his large, heavy palm cups your wet center, and he slides his thumb right up to find your swollen clit.
the contrast is dizzying. while his body is still pinning you roughly against the metal truck, his thumb begins to play with you so incredibly softly. he swirls his thumb around the sensitive little peak, lightly teasing the hood, slicking your own lubrication over you in slow, deliberate circles.
"rafe, oh my god," you whine, your head tossing back against the metal door, your mind completely melting from the gentle friction. your hips involuntarily shudder against his thumb, trying to press harder into his hand. "rafe, please, touch it harder."
"no," he murmurs against your lips, his blue eyes staring down into yours, totally blown out and heavy. he keeps the touch maddeningly soft, just barely brushing over the hyper sensitive nerve endings while his hips give another slow, agonizingly deep thrust. "look down baby. look at what m'doing to you."
you blink through the tears blurring your vision, your head tilting down to watch. the dim overhead lights illuminate everything. his dark, calloused hand is slick and covered in your juices, his long fingers carefully parting your inner lips to expose your hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves. he uses his index finger and thumb to gently pinch and lift the hood back, baring the red, engorged little pearl completely to the cool air before his thumb rolls over it with an agonizing slowness.
"see how swollen you are?" rafe grunts, his voice thick with unhinged desire as he watches his own hand squeeze the plush, sensitive nub, rolling it firmly between his fingertips until a sharp, electricity-like shock shoots straight up your spine. "you're fucking dripping all over my hand. every time i squeeze it, you squeeze my cock so tight m'about to lose it.
"pinch them," rafe commands suddenly, his hot breath hitting your ear as his hand stays down between your legs, relentlessly rolling your clit. his blue eyes are dark, completely glazed over as he stares down at your bare chest bouncing with every slow, heavy thrust. "grab your nipples for me, baby. let me see you play with them while m'fucking you."
you can barely process the words through the haze in your brain, but your hands automatically drop from his shoulders down to your own breasts. you cup the heavy, soft weight of them, your small fingers contrasting against the pale skin as you find your own tight, pink peaks.
"yeah, just like that," rafe groans, a dark, needy sound tearing from his throat as he watches you. his hips give a hard, deep roll, burying his thick length as far as it can go, stretching you wide while you pinch your own nipples, tugging them roughly until you let out a sharp, crying gasp. "squeeze 'em harder, baby. pull on them while m'stretching you out. show me how dirty you can look for me."
your fingers flex, rolling the hyper-sensitive tips between your thumbs and index fingers, pulling on them in sync with the slow, deep grinding of his pelvis. the double stimulation is completely unhinged—the rough, direct friction of his thumb squeezing your clit, the heavy fullness of his cock bottoming out inside your wet walls, and your own hands roughly teasing your breasts right in front of his face.
you let out a broken, pathetic sob, your hands clutching back at your breasts as you watch his thumb relentlessly tease you, slicking back the hood over and over again. the sight of his rough, grease-stained firefighter hands completely wrecking your clean, soft body while you play with yourself is too much. your hips start to buck blindly against his hand, desperately chasing the friction as he gives another deep, internal twitch that sends you over the absolute brink.
the gentle stimulation turns into a runaway train. your tight walls squeeze down on his thick length, pulsing violently over and over, which only makes him growl like an animal. rafe’s composure finally snaps completely. he yanks his hand away from your clit, his grip on your hips turning bruising as his pace turns back into a frantic, soaking wet slam.
"fuck yeah, feel how tight you get when you're close," rafe commands, driving himself into you with everything he has left, his pelvis battering against your soft flesh. "milk me, baby. take it all."
you shriek, your eyes rolling back into your head as your climax hits you, making you writhe helplessly against him while your core spasms violently around him. rafe lets out a loud, gutteral roar at the feel of you clamping down, giving three more massive, deep thrusts that stretch you completely open before his body locks up.
he groans a deep, broken sound as he cums, thick and burning hot, deep inside your womb, pouring himself into you in huge, heavy pulses until you're overflowing down his thighs. he keeps you pinned hard against the truck for a long minute, his heavy, sweaty forehead resting against yours, his breath ragged and unhinged.
when he finally slides out, you let out a whimpering, empty sigh, your legs sliding down his body until your bare feet hit the cold concrete floor again. you're completely dazed, a silly, breathless smile on your face as you try to smooth down your ruined, stained sundress, your inner thighs dripping with his release.
rafe zips his pants back up, fixing his uniform shirt with completely steady hands as if he didn't just brutally bend you over a rescue vehicle. he looks down at you with a smug, appreciative smirk, his blue eyes still lingering on your flushed, completely wrecked face.
"get back upstairs to my room, baby," rafe murmurs, his voice commanding and cool as he turns back toward the bay doors to check the monitors. "and don't you dare touch yourself to clean it out. i want to see my cum dripping down your legs when my shift ends."
I hope u enjoyed, my sweet beautiful people <3
𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐒 !!
Rafe is obsessed with your boobs, he loves the way your chest feels against him when you're hugging or making out. He'll pull you closer just to be able to rest his face there, breathing you in like you're all that matters.
Perhaps you are.
His favourite distraction is when you wear low cut tops, especially at home—when he knows that no one else can see you like that. That it's for his eyes only, that really turns him on.
However, the sensation of knowing that other people can see how good you look while still knowing that you're his wins all prices.
There is nothing better.
Nothing better than people being jealous of him all cause he has you.
He loves buying you expensive lingerie, only to end up begging you to take it off so that he can kiss and suck on your nipples, leaving pretty marks on your pretty skin.
Rafe is the type to hug you from behind and subtly rest his hand underneath them like it's the most innocent and normal thing.
But it's really not.
© kissedclaws - All rights reserved, do not steal or plagiarize my work without permission.
I'M NOT YOUR H*E.
Summary : When Rafe tells you to shut the fuck up because you disagreed with him in front of his friends, you do not react the way he excepted you to...
Pairing : S2!Rafe Cameron x strict!reader.
Warning tags : arguing, cursing, angst with comfort, the man dropping to his knees and crying.
A/N : hello everyone! Just wanted to give y'all this since it's been a while since I posted, and im coming up with something big, so enjoy...
"You don't own me, Rafe."
The entire bonfire goes quiet.
The music is still blasting somewhere behind you, Kelce is standing there with a beer halfway to his mouth, and Topper looks like he's suddenly developed a very deep interest in the sand beneath his feet.
Rafe Cameron, on the other hand, looks furious.
"You gonna keep disrespecting me in front of everyone?" he snaps.
You laugh.
Actually laugh.
"Disrespecting you?" you repeat, crossing your arms. "Rafe, you just told me to 'shut the fuck up' because I disagreed with you."
"You were making a scene."
"No, sweetheart," you say sweetly. "You made a scene. I corrected you."
Kelce mutters, "Jesus Christ."
Topper elbows him.
Rafe glares at both of them.
"Can we talk about this somewhere else?"
"No."
His jaw clenches.
"What the fuck do you mean, no?"
"I mean exactly what I said."
You take a step closer.
"You don't get to embarrass me publicly and then expect privacy when I respond."
His nostrils flare.
"You think you're always right."
"No."
Your voice remains calm.
"I think you don't get to treat me like shit."
"You're blowing this out of proportion."
"Oh, fuck off."
Kelce chokes on his drink.
Rafe's eyes widen.
"What?"
"You heard me."
Your gaze doesn't waver.
"You're not going to stand there and pretend I'm being dramatic because you don't like consequences."
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."
"And you don't know how to communicate without acting like a complete asshole."
Silence.
Topper physically takes a step back.
Rafe runs a hand through his hair.
"Jesus fucking Christ."
"No, don't 'Jesus Christ' me."
You point a finger at him.
"You don't get to raise your voice at me because you're having a bad day."
"I didn't—"
"You absolutely did."
"You were pushing my buttons."
"Then grow the fuck up."
He stares at you.
People stare at both of you.
Normally, people back down around Rafe Cameron.
You never have.
You never will.
"You done?" he asks bitterly.
"No."
His eyes close briefly.
"Of course not."
You straighten.
"If you want to date me, then act like it."
His expression hardens.
"And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
"It means I'm your girlfriend."
You pause.
"Not your therapist."
Another pause.
"Not your emotional punching bag."
You look him dead in the eye.
"And I'm sure as hell not your fucking hoe."
The words hit him like a truck.
"That's not what I—"
"Really?" you cut in. "Because ordering me around and expecting me to smile through your bullshit says otherwise."
Topper quietly disappears.
Kelce follows.
Cowards.
Rafe's voice drops.
"You know that's not how I see you."
"Then stop acting like it."
He opens his mouth.
Closes it.
Then opens it again.
"I fucked up."
"Congratulations," you reply flatly. "You discovered accountability."
You turn around.
"Where the fuck are you going?"
"Home."
"We're not done talking."
You spin back toward him.
"I am."
He grabs your wrist.
You freeze.
Slowly, you look down.
Then back up.
"Let go."
His expression changes instantly.
"Shit."
"Let go."
He releases you immediately.
But the damage is done.
"Don't ever do that again."
"I know."
"No."
Your voice shakes slightly.
"I don't think you do."
Rafe looks sick.
"I didn't mean—"
"I don't care what you meant."
You take a step back.
"I said no."
He swallows.
"You don't get to decide when my boundaries stop mattering because you're upset."
"You're right."
You laugh bitterly.
"Wow."
He flinches.
"You know what the worst part is?"
"What?"
"You actually are capable of understanding."
Your eyes shine with frustration.
"You just don't do it until it affects you."
"That's not fair."
"No?"
You scoff.
"Then tell me, Rafe Cameron."
Your voice cracks.
"How many people have you hurt because you expected them to tolerate behavior you wouldn't accept from anyone else?"
Silence.
The answer is written all over his face.
Too many.
"I'm going home."
"Wait."
"No."
"Please."
You blink.
Rafe Cameron doesn't say please.
Not often.
"I said no."
"You can't just leave."
"You don't get to tell me what I can do."
He reaches for you again.
Stops himself.
His hands clench at his sides.
"Fuck."
"Exactly."
He looks miserable.
"Just tell me how to fix it."
Your expression hardens.
"You don't get a fucking instruction manual."
"Then what do I do?"
"You apologize."
"I am apologizing."
"No."
You shake your head.
"You're panicking."
His face falls.
"You apologize because you understand what you did."
He stares at you.
"You crossed a line."
"You humiliated me."
"You ignored my boundaries."
"And then you expected me to comfort you because you felt bad about it."
Each sentence hits harder than the last.
"That's not love, Rafe."
His eyes fill with tears.
"I know."
You blink.
"What?"
"I know."
His voice breaks.
"I'm trying."
Your anger stutters.
Because Rafe Cameron rarely lets people see him crack.
"I'm trying so fucking hard."
He laughs bitterly.
"But every time I think someone actually gives a shit about me, I ruin it."
You don't answer.
"I don't know how to do this."
He gestures helplessly.
"Whatever the fuck this is."
His breathing becomes uneven.
"But I know I don't want to lose you."
The silence stretches.
Then:
"You don't get to keep me through guilt."
His head snaps up.
"What?"
"You don't get to make me responsible for your healing."
His shoulders slump.
"I know."
"You have to choose to be better because it's the right thing to do."
He nods.
"Not because you're scared I'll leave."
Another nod.
You study him.
Then sigh.
"You really are an idiot."
A wet laugh escapes him.
"Yeah."
"You know what the problem is?"
"What?"
"You think love means unconditional tolerance."
His brow furrows.
"It doesn't."
You step closer.
"Love has standards."
Your gaze softens slightly.
"And if you cross those standards, there are consequences."
He wipes at his eyes angrily.
"I hate when you're right."
"You must be exhausted, then."
A laugh bursts out of him.
Real.
Small.
Broken.
Then he says something so quiet you almost miss it.
"I don't think anyone's ever loved me enough to tell me no."
Your chest tightens.
"Well."
You glance up at him.
"You should probably get used to it."
He smiles weakly.
Then ruins it.
"So we're okay?"
You stare at him.
"Did you learn absolutely nothing?"
His face drops.
"Fuck."
You sigh.
"We're rebuilding."
"Oh."
"You don't get automatic forgiveness."
"Right."
"You earn trust."
He nods quickly.
"Okay."
"Consistency."
"Okay."
"Respect."
"Okay."
"Communication."
"Okay."
"No grabbing me when I'm trying to leave."
His expression crumbles.
"Okay."
"And if you pull that shit again—"
"I know."
He hesitates.
"You'll leave."
You look at him.
"No."
His eyebrows rise.
"I'll slap the stupid out of you first."
Rafe blinks.
Then, despite himself, laughs.
"Jesus Christ."
"You think I'm joking?"
His smile widens slightly.
"I know you're not."
You point at him.
"Good."
Then you begin walking away.
"Wait."
You stop.
"What now?"
Rafe swallows.
Then, right there in the driveway outside Tannyhill,
he drops to his knees.
"Rafe—"
"No."
His voice shakes.
"I need you to hear this."
You freeze.
He looks up at you.
Hair messy.
Eyes red.
Pride completely abandoned.
"I'm sorry."
You don't answer.
"For every time I made you feel small."
His throat bobs.
"For every time I expected you to put up with shit you never should've had to."
Tears gather in his eyes.
"For every fucking time I treated you like loving me meant accepting the worst parts of me."
Your heart aches.
"I know I don't deserve another chance."
His voice cracks.
"But if you give me one..."
He takes a shaky breath.
"I'll spend every day proving that I can be better."
The world feels very quiet.
Then you crouch in front of him.
"Get up."
He hesitates.
"Get up, Rafe."
Slowly, he obeys.
You place your hands on either side of his face.
"I love you."
Hope flashes across his features.
"But loving you doesn't mean abandoning myself."
His eyes shine.
"And if you disrespect me again—"
"You'll leave."
"No."
You raise an eyebrow.
"I'll remind you exactly who the fuck you're talking to."
He laughs through tears.
"Terrifying."
"Damn right."
He wraps his arms around you carefully.
Like he's asking permission.
You hug him back.
For a long moment, neither of you speaks.
Then:
"You know," Rafe murmurs into your hair.
"What?"
"Topper owes me fifty bucks."
You pull back.
"What?"
"He bet you'd dump me."
You blink.
Then:
"Tell him to pay up."
Rafe grins.
"Fuck, I love you."
You roll your eyes.
"I know."
Then, after a beat:
"But don't let it get to your head, Cameron."
His smile softens.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
And for once,
he means it.
_____________________________________________
Hope y'all enjoyed it, see you in the next chapter,
XOXO.
this was soooo hot! boundaries set, respected AND reapplied???? i want readers emotional regulation because holy shit 😩😩😩😩
dean likes teasing the pretty librarian . ♡
⁀➴┊a/n: i literally wrote this in half an hour. im so tired, so if this is bad, pls cut me some slack. </3
⁀➴┊warnings: dean teases you, you pretend like you dont like him but you hella do
it’s a friday night, and the entirety of briar is out crashing random parties and drinking until their livers start malfunctioning. you’re not, though, because here you are, working the graveyard shift at the campus’ library while everyone is out.
a couple of the mathematical engineering students have booked a private room until eleven, and only after they leave, you can start closing up. you’ve picked up a new romance book to read to kill the time, thank god. you’ve been swamped with course work, and this is the first time in a whole week where you can sit back and relax. you flip to the first page of your new novel, until—
you feel dean’s presence before he can utter his first word, heaving out an annoyed sigh. of course he has to ruin your peaceful shift. dean di laurentis doesn’t know tranquility and calmness; he’s bustle and hustle personified.
“courting the cowboy daddy? huh, princess, i expected you to read something with some more… substance,” the blond appears in front of you clad in a comfy grey hoodie, hair a little mussed, that usual teasing smirk on his pretty, stupid face. “now i know what the pretty librarian’s into, though.” then, he has the audacity to shoot a wink your way.
you feel caught. you slam your book shut and shove the book with the cringey cover of a half-naked guy with a cowboy hat in your bag. the undeniable heat of shame wavers over your cheeks. “what do you need, di laurentis? it’s friday night, if you haven’t noticed,” you bite out, gesturing around you, “aren’t you supposed to be tongue-deep into one of your puck bunnies right now?”
dean shrugs his shoulders before leaning on the mahogany desk like the two of you are best friends. his smell invades your nose. pine and something musky. “need to write an essay about the intergenerational justice problem of the climate crisis,” he tells you while simultaneously shrugging his backpack off his shoulders. “then i saw you, all lonely. figured you could use some of—” dean points at himself triumphantly, “that di laurentis special, ya know?”
a small smile creeps onto your face. you hope he did not see that. dean can be such a dork sometimes. you try to shift your attention to literally anything else but the cute guy in front of you.
“so, when am i seeing you at one of my games?” he asks nonchalantly as you type random words into the google search bar, trying to look busy.
“never.”
“aww, babe. you’re breaking my heart,” dean clutches his chest melodramatically. “i promise i’ll bring my a-game.”
“you have never invited me to one of your games, ever, dean.” you deadpan, pausing your typing. “and on top of that— what would i be doing there? i don’t even like hockey that much.”
dean huffs amusedly at your response. “i can tell you what you’d be doing there, alright,” he smiles with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “cheer me on. wear my jersey. rep me.” you can feel your stoic exterior starting to crack under dean’s attention. something in you would like that. really like that. but you’d never admit that. dean would never let you hear the end of it.
nevertheless, you still can’t help but retort with another sassy remark: “don’t you have anyone else you can torture on this fine friday night?”
a toothy grin graces dean’s delicate features. the little freckles on his nose more visible under the cozy, yellow light from the old desk lamp. “probably. but i choose you.” at the word “you”, he reaches his hand out to boop your nose. actually boop your nose. it’s so unexpected, but so dean. you don’t know how to act.
silence lingers in the air as you scrunch your brows, all confused and affected by dean’s simple touch, the curve of your ear reddening. “do— do that again and i’ll shove your hockey stick up your—”
while you spit out your halfhearted, catty insults dean can’t help but tilt his head back at the sound of your voice. how rapid you speak, how feisty you are. but you look more adorable than scary. he sighs, full of delight. he’d much rather spend his friday nights annoying you than attend a random college party surrounded by people he doesn’t care about.
“i love it when you talk dirty to me, baby.”
Now yall I'm rewatching big mama rn and yk what I've noticed...not alot (if any cause I don't see any at all) of fics on terrance howard which is crazy cause that man is so fine
Like is it just me? Cause I really needthat
never leave you
pairing; steve harrington x female!reader
summary; you almost lost steve in the big fight and he needs to remind you that he's still alive.
warnings; explicit sexual content, 18+ mdni, mentions of death, description of a panic attack, unprotected piv, cockwarming, creampie, fingering, dirty talk, fluff, (as always) no use of y/n & badly proofread
word count; 1,591
vanilla speaks; i’m baaack, yay. and what should i say, this was supposed to be a blurb? now it happened to be a one shot, oopsie. i wrote this over my five-days trip to scotland, so it’s kinda connected to it somehow. enjoy reading my loves!! xx oh, and a biiig thank you to my bestie @mandoalorian for all your inspiration, ily mwah.
masterlist ⟡˖°
there’s nothing worse in this world than to see the person you love dying.
but that's exactly what you thought would happen when he held on to the platform of the radio station tower with just one hand.
“steve!”
dustin’s eyes were wide with shock as he screamed out his name.
you moved before thinking, trying to get to him. but you weren’t fast enough.
he looked at you, your gazes colliding and it was like time seemed to slow down.
he felt how his fingers slipped.
you saw the fear, the panic not about falling but leaving everyone behind.
the fear of leaving you behind—the woman of his dreams. his sweet girl.
then, he let go.
there was this scream, loud and full of pain. it took you a moment before you realized that it came from you—the man you loved falling into death right in front of your eyes.
and then—out of a sudden, coming from behind you—jonathan was there, catching his hand, pulling him back onto the platform with all his strength.
“hold on, i got you,” he muttered under his heavy breath. “i got you.”
steve fell to the ground with a heavy thud, looking up at jonathan who helped him up, giving him a firm but meaningful nod.
dustin was the first one who fell into his arms. “shit, i thought you were toast.” steve hugged him back, looking at him with a smile before he turned around—towards you.
you didn’t hesitate. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down, and for a second none of you didn’t care about the world that was falling apart around you.
there was just you and steve. and the fact that he was still alive and in your arms.
but the fear of losing him didn’t vanish.
it was still there.
even after everything was over.
and with the fear, the nightmares came. haunting your dreams, seeing him fall over and over again.
every time you woke up screaming, he was there—pulling you into his arms, whispering in your ear that everything was fine. that he was here with you.
alive.
every time, he pressed kisses all over your face, hoping—praying—that one day, it would get better.
until one night, another nightmare ripped you out of your sleep.
another time when you saw him falling from that damn platform.
you woke up, breathing heavily as tears streamed down your face.
only this time, steve wasn’t there.
the side of his bed where he used to lie was abandoned—sheets cold, no warmth of him left. that was enough for you to fall apart. you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think.
just the never ending fear that wrapped around your neck, slowly taking the air from your lungs.
“hey, hey, hey.”
his hands cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. “shh, i’m here baby. i’m here. i was just… shit, i just needed to go to the bathroom.”
he pressed his forehead against yours, one hand wrapping around you, rubbing over your back, trying to comfort you as best as he could.
even though he was back again, touching and whispering to you, it took a moment until you calmed down again. you still breathed heavily but your body finally stopped shaking.
“i’m sorry. i just… i can’t. almost losing you… it kills me, steve.” small sobs bubbled out of your mouth, you couldn’t hold them back even if you wanted.
“hey. baby, look at me,” he said, his grip on your face tightening. “you didn’t lose me. i’m here. and i will never leave you.”
you look up up at him then, tears still streaming down your cheeks and he tried to wipe them away with his thumb.
he was so warm, so soft. the only thing that would only really matter to you forever. “touch me, steve,” you whispered suddenly. “please. i…i need to feel you.”
his mouth touched your skin only seconds later, kissing away the strands of your tears, tasting the sweet saltiness on his lips.
at first, it was slow and hesitant as if he was testing how far he could really go. when the kiss deepened, he reached out for you, carefully cupping one of your breasts through the thin sleep shirt your wore.
“you feel that, sweetheart?” he murmured, breath hot against your damp cheeks while his thumbs grazed over your nipples, making you shiver.
“i’m here with you. i’m alive…” with that, he pushed you down, back on the mattress, not wasting another second.
clothes were shed, falling to the floor until you were bot completely naked.
steve settled between your legs, his cock nudging your entrance before he slipped inside, slowly stretching you inch by inch.
“fuck, baby. you’re so tight,” he hissed, his lips moving against your neck, trying to hold himself back from slamming into you.
when he bottomed out fully, he remained like that a few seconds longer, letting you feel the small twitches of his cock inside of you. letting adjust to the size of him.
he started moving a few seconds later—right when that little whimper left your lips, slowly pulling back until he slipped out almost completely before pushing back inside.
“it’s okay, baby. i’m here…” he whispered, his hand stroking over your hair, lips brushing softly against your forehead.
“steve…please. i need you to…move faster,” you whimpered, your legs wrapping around his waist, locking him in and he didn’t plan on denying you that. he would never deny you anything.
his movements turned faster, almost primal as he fucked you into the mattress. every time he slammed back into your tight heat, he hit the spot that made you see stars dancing behind your eyelids.
and when his hand slipped between your bodies, touching your clit, you moaned out desperately, your back arching off the bed.
it changed the angle, and he hit you even deeper. so deep, you could feel the tip of his cock kissing your cervix and with it, the coil in your stomach tightened.
“steve… i’m… i’m gonna…” you whispered and he was right there, whispering in your ear. “i know, baby. cum for me. lemme feel you squeezing me.”
those words were enough to let yourself fall. you came with a high pitched whimper, your inner walls fluttering and clenching around him like he was all that you ever needed to survive.
it made him fall over the edge too. with one last thrust, he buried himself deep inside of you and came with a deep, guttural grunt, his face buried into the crock of your neck.
his cock twitched and pulsed, shooting thick ropes of cum, coating your walls, painting them white while you’re still shaking underneath him.
both of you breathed heavily as he broke down onto your smaller form, your sweat-coated bodies melting into each other.
neither of you spoke, just enjoyed the feeling of being connected like this.
he was the first to break the silence.
“i love you, baby. and i swear to you, the day that i leave you, is the day that my heart stops beating.” he paused, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at you. “and i promise, this will take a lot more than an unstable platform of a tower.”
that made you smile, and you raised your hand, brushing your fingers through his chestnut hair right above his forehead. “i love you too, stevie…”
with that he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, sealing his oath with a kiss.
when you woke up the next time, it wasn’t because of the early morning light.
“mh, steve…” you whimpered softly, voice laced with sleep as you shifted in his arms, his breath hot against your ear. he was behind you, spooning you while his hand was between your legs.
his morning wood pressed against your lower back while he fingered you awake, hips rutting into you, desperate to feel some friction.
“‘m sorry sweetheart, i just couldn’t stop myself. you were just so beautiful lying next to me all naked and soft…”
that elicited a little giggle mixed with a quiet moan from you but you regretted it immediately, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing it in small but firm circles.
“careful before you laugh at me, i’m in charge here,” he growled into your ear, causing your walls to flutter around his long fingers.
“jesus christ,” you sighed, rocking your hips against his movements, your head falling back on his shoulder. “mhmmm…” he hummed, nibbling on the thin skin right underneath your jaw.
his movements grew more urgent, the pressure in your abdomen slowly building. and when his dick accidentally slipped through your butt cheeks, you lost it.
the orgasm rolled through your body in little wave, making your world spin as you cried out his name. his lips latching onto your shoulder while you shivered and trembled in his arms.
by the time you calmed down again, he still held you, fingers slowly slipping out of you, coated with your juices, smearing it over the inside of your thighs.
“see? i’ll always be here to make your world spin in the morning.”
“oh, please. just kiss me again,” you muttered, your lips melting against his as you rolled over, bringing yourself on top of him.
your hair fell into his face, making him laugh, his hands finding your hips, gripping you tightly.
“as much as you want, baby. told you… i’ll never leave you.”
2026 whispersoflost
⊱ ┊ BABYDADDY!RAFE THROUGHOUT HIS WIFE’S PREGNANCIES ﹒𓂃
( 🗯️ ) angel ୨౿ the timeline is obviously after they got married and the time when bm!reader was pregnant with aurora isn’t included here since obv they weren’t together at the time.
more on their m.list ୨౿ babymama!reader x babydaddy!rafe series masterlist
⊱ ┊ when you first found out you were pregnant with your second daughter, sloan, it was rafe’s first time witnessing his woman pregnant, and boy was he taking it serious. i mean real serious. like not letting you lift a finger serious. he does everything from waking up extra early in the morning to help aurora prepare for school, to working from home most days so he could help you throughout the day. If you so much as shifted on the couch, he was asking if you were okay.
⊱ ┊ in my mind, i imagine him knowing how to cook, so when hana comes over for meal preps, he finds a recipe for your latest craving and with a little bit of hana’s help, makes you homemade meals. he has every single appointment and baby shopping trip marked on his calendar because he knows for sure he’s not missing anything. super attentive husband award goes to this blondie right here, alright.
⊱ ┊ when it comes to pregnancy sickness, unfortunately it’s all‑day sickness in your case, and he’s always there for it. if you’re throwing up, he’s rushing with you to the bathroom, holding your hair up, gently rubbing your back and murmuring encouraging words. if you’re disgusted by a dish at home or when you guys are out, it’s immediately out of your sight, and depending on what you need, he’s doing whatever it takes to make you feel better.
⊱ ┊ it’s not just the physical stuff though, it’s the extra emotions and irritation too. if it’s bad on the daily, it’s a hundred times worse when you’re pregnant, still, he never snaps back or get irritated, instead he just look at you with the softest eyes saying “you’re growing a whole person inside of you. i think you get a pass.” andsomehow that always makes you feel both loved and guilty, so you end up crying into his chest while he holds you, one hand stroking your hair, kissing your forehead, telling you he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, wouldn’t have it any other way. same thing when you’re horny, it gets really bad when your pregnant (he lovesssss this part). not only are you more bossy in bed, but more demanding too, and he dives into that shit so bad. obviously when you’re at least six months he’ll try to control himself and say he doesn’t want to hurt you, but once you reassure him that his dick helps more than it hurts, he caves in right away.
⊱ ┊ he’s protective as hell. doesn’t let anyone outside of your close, close friends and the one or two family members you both have left touch all over your belly. at gatherings or functions he won’t let people talk your ears off since he knows it annoys you, so he’ll respectfully tell them to shut the fuck up. it doesn’t matter if the president himself has shown up to see him personally, he’s not leaving your side, ever. if you want to go out anywhere without him while you’re pregnant, you basically have to have an airtag on you, your location shared, and sarah with you at all times. it’s not that he’s being toxic, he just worries too much and you’re too precious to him, so he just cares (a little too much).
⊱ ┊ rafe had heard about pregnant women and their cravings at unusual times eith unusual ingredients, but he honestly thought that was just a movie cliche. he was proved wrong fast. when he was tired as hell at eleven at night, sat up in bed naked, listening to his dearest wife explain, “i want something sweet but not too sweet but like cold not ice cream tho—” and you trail off, he just sighs, kiss your forehead and mumble, “okay, i’ll figure it out.” then he gets dressed and drives twenty minutes to get your something sweet but not too sweet. most times he comes back with two or three options, just in case if your craving had changed while he was gone.
⊱ ┊ and then there’s some of the things you adore when he does them: lifting the weight of your belly (he did this a lot when you were pregnant with the twins since everything felt twice as heavy), talking to your belly and whispering to the human beings inside how they’re so loved already. the way he turns so domestic throughout the whole thing, when he kiss your tears away when your shopping for baby clothes, when he rub your swollen feet, and every time he slides into bed behind you, wraps an arm around your bump, and presses his nose into your neck, making you feel the safest you’ve ever felt.
can u tell i love rafe
HOUSE CALLS
ONE-SHOT
pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x fem!reader summary: Dr. Jack Abbot is your closed-off, divorced neighbor across the hall—the kind of man who fixes what breaks, notices what hurts, and pretends none of it means anything. Then one bad night makes pretending a hell of a lot harder.
wc: 8.3k
a/n: i need this man to come inside more than my apartment. not beta read.
warnings: piv, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, hair pulling, fingering, nipple play, possessive language, implied age gap, doctor kink, unwanted touching/pushy date (not from Jack), minor blood/injury, alcohol mention, divorce mention, chronic pain, not beta read
MASTERLIST
In hindsight, the eggs should’ve been your first warning.
The hallway always smelled faintly of old paint, somebody’s takeout, and the industrial lemon cleaner the building manager used like he thought enough of it could pass for luxury.
It was quiet tonight. Quiet enough that the soft clink of your keys hitting the floor sounded louder than it should have.
“Shit,” you muttered to yourself, balancing a tote of groceries against your hip as you crouched awkwardly to scoop them up before the carton of eggs slid out after them. The paper bag cut into your palm. The handle of the other one was already giving up on life. You’d had a long day, your shoulder ached, and your front door suddenly seemed determined to humiliate you personally.
A shadow fell over the mess.
A hand—broad, veined, quick—snagged the egg carton before it hit the floor.
You looked up.
Jack Abbot stood there with that same expression he always seemed to wear in the building: tired enough to look carved down to the bone, not interested in talking, not interested in anything except getting inside his own apartment and shutting the world out. He had on navy scrubs beneath a dark jacket, the collar open at the throat, stethoscope looped carelessly from one pocket like he’d forgotten it was there. His hair looked like he’d run a hand through it a hundred times. There was color high in his cheeks from the cold outside, but it didn’t make him look younger. It just made him look worn in a different direction.
And there it was, visible even in the short distance between you: the hitch in his gait. Slight tonight, but there. More obvious the longer he stood still.
He held the eggs out to you.
“Thanks,” you said, straightening too fast and nearly dropping your keys again.
His mouth flattened into something that wasn’t quite a smile and wasn’t quite annoyance either. “You always this coordinated?”
You let out a breathy laugh before you could stop yourself. “Only when there’s an audience.”
“Lucky me.”
His voice was low and rough, like he hadn’t used it for anything but clipped instructions all day. He reached down, caught the second grocery bag by one torn handle, and passed it to you before it could split entirely.
You took it, fingers brushing his for half a second. His hand was warm. Yours, embarrassingly, was freezing.
“Thank you,” you said again, more steadily this time.
He gave one short nod, like the exchange had already lasted longer than he’d budgeted for, and pulled his own keys from his pocket. Apartment 4B. Yours was 4A. Across the hall. You’d known that since the first week you moved in, mostly because he came and went at impossible hours and because sometimes, when the building settled late at night, you could hear the low murmur of his television through the wall.
He opened his door, paused, and glanced over once more.
“You should use both hands with the eggs,” he said.
Then he disappeared inside and shut the door behind him.
You stood there in the hallway with the groceries digging into your fingers and a ridiculous, inconvenient awareness humming under your skin.
You’d seen him before, obviously. Everyone in the building had. The man who kept strange hours, limped a little after long shifts, and looked like he had no use for small talk or neighbors or anyone else’s bullshit. You knew he was a doctor—emergency medicine, if the stitched lettering on one of his jackets meant what you thought it did. You knew he was divorced because old Mrs. Larkin downstairs had mentioned it in the same tone she used for broken elevators and weather fronts. Such a shame, she’d said, as if she’d personally witnessed the end of his marriage from behind her curtains.
You knew he was handsome in the kind of severe, accidental way that made it worse. Not polished. Not charming. Just unfairly good-looking while looking like he’d slept four hours in the last three days.
And now, apparently, you also knew his hands were warm.
Which was annoying.
It was nearly a week before a dying smoke detector forced the issue.
The thing started chirping at eleven-fifteen on a Thursday night.
At first it was just one high, cruel little beep from the hallway outside your bathroom. Then silence. Then another beep forty seconds later, sharper somehow for giving you time to hope it had stopped. You stood under it in your socks, staring up at the plastic disc like glaring at it might shame it into shutting the hell up.
It did not.
You dragged a kitchen chair beneath it. The chair wobbled. You climbed up anyway, phone flashlight clenched between your teeth, and discovered two things in quick succession: the cover was stuck, and the previous tenant had apparently installed it with the spite of a man sealing a tomb.
“Great,” you whispered around the edge of your phone.
Another chirp split the air.
You flinched, lost your balance, caught yourself on the wall, and cursed.
A hard knock landed on your front door.
You froze.
Another chirp.
Another knock.
You climbed down, annoyed and embarrassed before you even opened the door.
Jack stood in the hall wearing a faded gray T-shirt and dark sweats, hair damp at the temples like he’d just showered. He looked tired in a deeper, meaner way than usual, like the fatigue had gone past worn and landed somewhere close to hostile.
“There a reason your apartment’s screaming?” he asked.
Mortification flashed hot through you. “Oh my God.”
“Mm.”
“I was literally just trying to fix it.”
“Sounded successful.”
“Wow. Helpful.”
Another chirp shrieked behind you.
Jack’s eyes lifted past your shoulder. His expression did not change, but something about the stillness of his face suggested the sound had personally offended him.
“Battery,” he said.
“I know it needs a battery.”
“You have one?”
You hesitated.
His mouth tightened. “Of course you don’t.”
“I might.”
“You don’t.”
“I love how much faith you have in me.”
“I’m learning.”
He turned, disappeared into his apartment, and came back ten seconds later with a nine-volt battery in one hand and a small screwdriver in the other. You stepped back automatically, and he moved past you with the kind of brisk certainty that suggested he’d already taken stock of the whole apartment in one sweep.
He glanced at the chair under the detector.
“You were standing on that?”
“Yes.”
“That chair’s a lawsuit.”
“It has sentimental value.”
“So does every bad decision before it breaks your neck.”
You laughed before you could stop yourself, and his mouth did twitch, brief and unwilling.
The smoke detector chirped again.
Jack looked up at it like it had one more chance to live.
“Hold the chair,” he said.
“I thought the chair was a lawsuit.”
“It is. Hold it anyway.”
He stepped onto it before you could object, one hand bracing lightly against the wall as he reached up. The movement was careful. Efficient. But careful.
You noticed the way his weight shifted. The set of his mouth. The slight stiffness in his right leg as he balanced.
He noticed you noticing.
“Eyes on the chair,” he said.
“My eyes are on the chair.”
“They’re not.”
“Are you always this bossy?”
“Yes.”
He got the cover loose with one sharp twist of the screwdriver. The old battery came free. The new one clicked into place. The next forty seconds passed without a chirp, and the quiet felt almost holy.
“There,” he said. “Temporary peace.”
“Temporary?”
“It’s a smoke detector. It’ll find another reason to ruin your life.”
He stepped down, and you saw the muscle in his jaw jump before his foot hit the floor. The wince barely registered and would’ve been easy to miss if you hadn’t already been looking at him too closely. He straightened fully a second later like nothing had happened.
“You okay?” you asked before you could stop yourself.
His eyes flicked to yours. Cool. Guarded.
“Fine.”
It was such a reflexive answer that you almost laughed. Instead you just nodded slowly. “Right.”
He handed you the dead battery like it was evidence.
“You own a screwdriver?” he asked.
“Probably?”
“Helpful.”
You folded your arms. “You know, you could just accept that I’m a disaster and move on.”
“I had,” he said. “Then your smoke detector started screaming across the hall.”
You laughed in spite of yourself, and this time he didn’t hide the faint curve at the corner of his mouth.
It changed his whole face. Not enough to soften it, exactly. Just enough to make him look less like a man bracing for impact and more like a man who remembered, very reluctantly, how to be human.
He stood there beneath the newly silent detector like he was debating whether you were capable of surviving the next hour unsupervised.
“I’ll buy replacement batteries,” you said.
“Do that.”
“Thank you.”
He shrugged one shoulder as if gratitude was an unnecessary use of breath, then limped—not badly, but unmistakably now that you knew to look for it—toward the front door.
At the door, he paused.
“Don’t climb on that chair again,” he said.
“Yes, doctor.”
He gave you a look over his shoulder. “Cute.”
Then he left.
The smoke detector stayed quiet.
Your problem, unfortunately, did not.
After that, you started noticing him everywhere.
Not because he was newly visible. Because now he seemed to catch your eye before anything else did.
The laundry room on Sunday morning, standing with one hand braced on the industrial washer while he waited for the machine to unlock, hospital ID clipped crookedly to his waistband.
The lobby on Monday night, expression flat with fatigue as he accepted a takeout bag from the delivery guy and checked the receipt without really seeing it.
The stairwell on Wednesday, stepping aside automatically to let you pass even though he clearly had the right of way.
The sidewalk out front, phone to his ear, saying, “Robby, if you’re calling to ask me to pick up another shift, the answer’s no,” in a tone so dry it bordered on impressive. He’d glanced up then, caught sight of you coming through the front doors, and ended the call with, “I gotta go.”
That one stuck with you for longer than it should have.
Robby existed, apparently. Robby got calls. Robby got more of Jack’s personality than the rest of the building did. There was something oddly comforting about that, about the fact that he wasn’t just a set of locked doors and dark windows across the hall. He had a friend. A life. Someone who knew him well enough to bother him on purpose.
The routine built in pieces after that.
A package left outside your apartment door one rainy afternoon, neatly tucked against the wall where it wouldn’t get wet. You opened your own door just as Jack was stepping back across the hall.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you called.
“It was in the way,” he said.
A lie, probably. But a useful one.
A Thursday evening when you came in carrying an overloaded canvas bag and he held the front door before you could hip-check it open. He didn’t say anything, just waited while you awkwardly made it through.
A Tuesday near midnight when he got off the elevator looking worse for wear and you, coming back from the corner store in slippers, held out the extra bottle of sports drink in your hand.
He looked at it. Then at you.
“You buying those for random neighbors now?”
“I bought two by accident.”
“Sure you did.”
But he took it.
The longer it went on, the more you could read him.
You could tell which shifts had been bad by the set of his shoulders. Which nights his leg was bothering him more by the precise, deliberate way he crossed the hall. Which moods meant he might answer with one word and which meant—rarely, but sometimes—you’d get a whole sentence.
You also learned that he noticed more than he let on.
“Your tire’s low,” he said one evening as you both reached the parking lot.
You looked at him blankly. “What?”
“Front right.”
You turned to stare at your car. Sure enough, it looked a little sagged at one corner.
“How did you even—”
He was already walking away. “You want air in it, or you wanna keep driving on a rim?”
Another time you came in rubbing absently at the back of one ankle, shoes pinching from a long day, and he glanced down once before saying, “Those are killing you.”
You blinked. “These are fine.”
“Mm.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re limping.”
“I am not.”
He raised an eyebrow, looked meaningfully at your feet, and kept going.
He was an asshole.
A helpful asshole.
A deeply, profoundly inconvenient asshole.
The first time you saw the damage up close, it was by accident.
Not because you knocked. Not because you meant to look. Just because the hallway was narrow, and Jack Abbot had left his door open while he carried pieces of his old life out to the trash.
You came home a little after ten with your keys already in your hand and stopped short at the sight of him half in, half out of 4B, a cardboard box balanced against one hip. He was in sweatpants and a dark long-sleeved shirt, reading glasses low on his nose, his hair mussed like he’d been running his hands through it for the last hour.
That image alone nearly wiped out your ability to form sentences.
“Sorry,” you said, because he was blocking just enough of the hall that slipping past him without speaking would’ve felt stranger. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
He looked up. For half a beat, his face stayed blank.
Then he shifted the box more securely against his side. “You’re not.”
The top flaps hadn’t been folded all the way down.
Inside was a picture frame, face-up.
You didn’t mean to stare. You only saw it for a second. Jack at least fifteen years younger, same mouth, same eyes, the hard lines of him not gone but unfinished. Beside him, a woman stood with her hand hooked at his elbow. Both of them dressed up, both smiling at something out of frame. Wedding clothes, maybe. Maybe not. It didn’t matter. The intimacy in the picture was plain enough.
Jack followed your line of sight.
The air changed.
He folded the flap closed with one economical motion.
“Sorry,” you said again, quieter this time.
He nodded once. “Don’t be.”
That was all. No explanation. No awkwardness offered up for you to smooth over. Just a wall, going back up in real time.
You wanted to say something kind. Something light. Something that acknowledged the sudden, unmistakable bruise in the room without pressing on it.
But he’d already started moving toward the stairwell, the box held tight against his ribs.
“Night,” he said.
“Night.”
He took the stairs instead of the elevator, slow and careful on the first step before forcing the rest into something steadier.
You stood outside your apartment for a while after that, thinking about the photograph you hadn’t meant to see. About the ring mark you’d noticed once when he reached for his keys and then pretended you hadn’t. About the quiet, sparse feel of his life through the wall. About the way pain could make people meaner at the edges without making them cruel.
The next time you saw him, neither of you mentioned it.
But something had shifted.
Not softness, exactly.
Just awareness.
It was a little after midnight when you knocked on his door for the second time.
This one felt more embarrassing.
You stood there with your hand wrapped in a dish towel and your dignity somewhere back in your kitchen, probably bleeding beside the cutting board. You’d sliced your thumb trying to open a stupid plastic clamshell of strawberries with a paring knife because apparently you were a woman incapable of learning from obvious danger.
It wasn’t deep. Probably. But it was bleeding more than you liked, and after twenty minutes of rinsing, pressing, and muttering at yourself in the mirror, you’d started to feel lightheaded from looking at it.
Which was how you ended up on Jack Abbot’s doormat, knocking with your good hand.
He opened the door wearing a black T-shirt and the same gray sweats as before, one hand still on the knob, the other holding a bourbon glass low against his thigh. He looked tired, but not hospital-tired. At-home tired. The softer kind. His glasses were on again.
His gaze dropped to the towel around your hand.
For once, he didn’t make a joke first.
“What happened?”
“I may have lost a fight with a strawberry container.”
He stared at you.
“It had really aggressive plastic.”
He stepped back immediately. “Come in.”
His apartment was warmer than yours. Dim. Quiet. A lamp on in the living room, television muted, coffee table stacked with two medical journals, a half-empty takeout container, and a folded newspaper. The place looked exactly like you’d imagined it would: orderly without being neat, practical without trying to be stylish. There was a cane leaning in the corner by the umbrella stand—not hidden, but not exactly displayed either. A pair of shoes lined up neatly by the wall. A kitchen that looked used, not decorative.
“Sit,” he said, already moving toward a drawer in the kitchen.
“I’m not dying.”
“Didn’t say you were.”
“It’s just a cut.”
“Then you’ll survive me looking at it.”
You sat at the kitchen island. He came back with a small first aid kit that looked far too complete to belong to a normal person, snapped it open, and held out his hand.
You placed yours in it.
His palm was warm. Steady.
He unwrapped the towel with a focus that made your throat go a little tight. His face settled into that ER-doctor calm you’d only seen in flashes before—assessing without panic, gentle without being soft about it.
“Not bad,” he said.
“See?”
“Still stupid.”
“I came here for medical care, not emotional violence.”
“That costs extra.”
You laughed, and his mouth twitched.
He cleaned the cut, ignoring your hiss when the antiseptic stung.
“Hold still.”
“I am.”
“You’re trying to climb out of your skin.”
“It burns.”
“It’s supposed to burn.”
“Awful bedside manner.”
“I’m off the clock.”
His thumb pressed lightly at the base of yours, keeping your hand open while he bandaged you with swift, practiced movements. The whole thing should have been clinical. It wasn’t. Not with your knee brushing the outside of his thigh. Not with him standing close enough that you could smell bourbon under the soap on his skin. Not with the careful way he avoided leaning too much weight on his bad leg even while pretending he wasn’t doing it.
A buzzing sound split the quiet.
Jack pulled his phone from his pocket, glanced at the screen, and rolled his eyes with practiced fondness.
“Robby?” you guessed.
His gaze lifted sharply.
You shrugged. “Lucky guess.”
He answered. “What.”
A beat of silence.
“No.”
Another beat.
“I’m not coming in tomorrow.”
He leaned back against the counter while Robby, whoever exactly Robby was beyond dry phone calls and night shifts, apparently kept talking. Jack scrubbed a hand over his mouth.
“No, I heard you. I’m still not doing it.”
Another pause, then, with a quick glance at you, “No, I’m busy.”
Your eyebrows shot up.
His eyes narrowed a fraction, but the corner of his mouth moved.
“Goodnight, Robby.”
He hung up before the response could come through and tossed the phone onto the counter.
“Busy?” you said.
He taped the bandage down with a final, neat press. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Too late.”
He made a low sound in his throat that might have been a laugh and might have been disbelief.
The quiet that followed was different from the others you’d had with him. Less brittle. Less likely to snap.
“You always work this much?” you asked.
“Pretty much.”
“That sounds miserable.”
“It is.”
“And yet you keep doing it.”
His shoulders shifted, not quite a shrug. “Somebody’s gotta.”
There was nothing self-important in the way he said it. No hero complex. Just fact.
You looked around the apartment again. “You like living here?”
He followed your glance, taking in his own place like he hadn’t really looked at it in a while.
“It’s quiet.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
His eyes came back to yours.
“No,” he said after a second. Honest as a cut. “Not particularly.”
The admission hung there between you, simple and heavier than it should have been.
You looked down at the clean bandage around your thumb. “Thanks.”
“Mm.”
You didn’t go right away. Neither did he ask you to.
For five soft, strange minutes, you sat in his kitchen talking about nothing much at all. The guy in 2C who played piano badly after midnight. The fact that the delivery place downstairs always forgot napkins. The weather getting cold enough to make the windows rattle.
It should have been ordinary.
Instead it felt like discovering a room behind a wall you’d only ever knocked on.
When you finally moved toward the door, he limped just slightly on the turn that took him to open it for you.
You hesitated.
His gaze flicked down to your face. “What.”
“You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt, you know.”
Everything in him went still.
Then he opened the door and said, not unkindly, “Go throw the strawberries away before they finish the job.”
You left.
But you thought about the look on his face for the rest of the night.
The bad date happened on a Saturday.
It hadn’t been a terrible idea in theory. A drink with a guy from work. Casual. Low-stakes. An excuse to wear something better than your usual jeans and to pretend, for two hours, that you were not half in love with a grumpy emergency physician across the hall who barely smiled and definitely did not belong to you.
The problem wasn’t the date itself, not exactly.
The problem was the way he got weird at the end of it.
Pushy in that soft, smiling way some men managed. Like they thought they were owed a little more because the evening had gone fine and because you’d laughed at their stories and because it was late and because the hallway outside your apartment door was empty.
“Come on,” he said when you stepped back. “I’m not asking for a kidney.”
You kept your tone even. “I said goodnight.”
His hand landed lightly on your arm.
Every muscle in your body tensed.
“Hey,” he said, like you were overreacting already. “Don’t be like that.”
Something opened across the hall.
You hadn’t even noticed Jack coming home.
One second it was just you, your date, and the stale hallway air. The next, Jack was there in wrinkled hospital blues beneath a dark jacket, keys in hand, expression flat in a way that made your stomach drop and your pulse kick.
His gaze went first to the hand on your arm.
Then to your face.
Then back to the guy.
“Problem?” Jack asked.
It was one word. Calm. Quiet. No raised voice. No chest-thumping nonsense.
The guy straightened, trying to square himself without looking like he was doing it. “No problem.”
Jack didn’t move.
The limp was there, faint under the movement. So was the fatigue. Neither of them made him look smaller.
“Then take your hand off her,” he said.
The guy let go immediately.
A long second passed.
Your date—former date, obviously—gave a short, awkward laugh. “Didn’t realize there was a boyfriend.”
“There isn’t,” you said sharply.
Jack did not look at you.
“You didn’t need one to hear no,” he said to the man. “Leave without embarrassing yourself.”
That landed.
You saw it in the flush that climbed the guy’s neck, in the way he glanced between the two of you and decided, very reasonably, that nothing here was worth pushing further. He muttered something about misunderstanding and turned for the elevator.
The hallway went still.
Only then did Jack look at you properly.
“You okay?”
“Yes,” you said automatically.
His eyes narrowed. “Bullshit.”
The adrenaline hit all at once, ugly and shaky and embarrassing. Your fingers wouldn’t stop trembling, so you curled them into your palms.
“I’m fine,” you said again.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m angry.”
“Yeah.” His voice was dry again, but there was something else under it now. Something tighter. “Come inside.”
You stared at him. “Jack—”
“Inside.”
It shouldn’t have worked. The tone. The quiet authority in it. The part of him that was clearly still halfway in doctor mode, assessing, deciding, moving.
But you were tired, and rattled, and your pulse still hadn’t come down. So when he unlocked his apartment and stepped back to let you through, you went.
His apartment felt smaller than before.
Not physically. Just because now the air in it was charged enough to take up space.
He locked the door behind you, set his keys in the bowl by the entry, and shrugged out of his jacket. Underneath, his hospital blues looked even more worn in the low light, sleeves shoved to his forearms, the collar sitting crooked at his throat. There was a faint antiseptic smell clinging to him, clean and sterile and exhausted all at once.
“Sit,” he said.
“I’m not hurt.”
“I didn’t ask that.”
You stared at him for a second, then sat at the edge of the couch because arguing suddenly felt like more effort than you had.
He went to the kitchen, came back with a glass of water, and held it out until you took it. His eyes skimmed your face, your hands, the line of your shoulders.
“Did he grab you anywhere else?”
The question was clinical in structure. The concern in it wasn’t.
“No.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He nodded once, as if logging the answer somewhere internal, then lowered himself into the armchair opposite you. The movement was slower this time. More careful. He was hiding it less, or maybe you were just seeing it more clearly now.
“You should’ve said something sooner,” he said.
“To who?”
“To him. To me. Somebody.”
A sharp laugh escaped you. “Sorry I didn’t schedule my hallway ambush more responsibly.”
His mouth tightened. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
The edge left the room just enough for the silence after it to feel tired rather than dangerous.
He leaned back in the chair, one forearm braced over his stomach, fingers rubbing once at the line of his thigh like the ache there had finally started demanding attention.
You noticed. Of course you did.
He noticed you noticing.
“Don’t,” he said.
“Don’t what?”
“Look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m about to break.”
A dozen responses rose to your tongue. The only honest one was, I don’t.
So that was the one you said.
Something in his face shifted. Small. Real.
You drank some water because your hands still needed something to do. “I thought you hated me.”
His eyebrows lifted. “I risked my life on that rickety chair of yours.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s evidence.”
“Jack.”
His mouth twitched faintly, then settled again.
“No,” he said. “I don’t hate you.”
The apartment was so quiet you could hear the radiator tick.
“Could’ve fooled me,” you said.
His gaze held yours. “You talk too much.”
A laugh slipped out of you, startled and genuine. He looked at you for another beat longer than necessary, then reached for his own glass on the side table.
“You were on a date,” he said.
It wasn’t a question. It also didn’t sound casual.
“Supposedly.”
“How’d that go.”
You gave him a look. “You were there for the ending.”
“Not what I asked.”
You swallowed. “It was fine. Until it wasn’t.”
He stared into his drink for a second, jaw flexing. “Guys like that count on you not wanting to make a scene.”
The line came out clipped and bitter, like experience speaking through someone who had seen too much of the world at its ugliest.
“You see that a lot?” you asked quietly.
His eyes came back to you. Tired. Older suddenly.
“Enough.”
There was so much packed into that one word that you didn’t touch it again.
Instead you looked down at the glass in your hands. “Thank you.”
“Don’t.”
“For stepping in.”
His voice lowered. “I said don’t.”
“Why?”
Because if he shut this down now—if he turned this back into one of those careful, spare exchanges in the hallway—you thought it might actually hurt.
He exhaled through his nose. Looked away. Then back.
“Because,” he said, “you saying it like that makes it sound like I did you some huge favor.”
“You did.”
“No. I acted like a decent human being for thirty seconds.”
“You don’t have to downplay everything.”
“And you don’t have to make a whole thing out of it.”
“I’m not.”
“You are a little.”
You stared at him.
He stared back, stubborn as stone.
“You’re very dramatic for someone who lost a fight with a strawberry container.”
“I was wounded.”
His mouth twitched.
“You needed a band-aid.”
“A medically supervised band-aid.”
Then, without warning, you both laughed.
It broke something open.
Not in a dramatic way. In a tired, human way. The kind that lets the room breathe again after holding too much in its chest.
His gaze dropped to your hand where it tightened around the glass.
“You’re still shaking,” he said.
“I know.”
He leaned forward, setting his drink aside. “Come here.”
The words were quiet. Not soft exactly. But not something you could mistake for anything else.
You set your water down and stood. He stayed where he was until you were close enough, then reached up and took your wrist—not gently, not roughly, just firmly enough to steady. His thumb pressed once against the inside where your pulse was still too fast.
He was only checking. Just checking.
That’s what you told yourself.
But the room had narrowed to the feel of his hand on you and the warm concentration in his face. To the fact that he was looking at you the way he looked at things that mattered. To the fact that he wasn’t pretending anymore that he didn’t see everything.
Your breathing went shallow.
His eyes flicked up to yours.
There it was.
The line.
The one both of you had been circling for weeks.
You saw the moment he recognized it too. In the slight stillness that took over his mouth. In the way his thumb stopped moving against your wrist. In the split second where he could have let go and didn’t.
You whispered, “Jack.”
His jaw tightened.
“Don’t,” he said again.
This time it didn’t sound like a warning to you. It sounded like one to himself.
Your free hand came up before you thought better of it, brushing lightly against the angle of his wrist where it held yours.
His breath changed.
Not much. Just enough.
“I’m saying thank you,” you murmured.
“No, you’re not.”
The truth of it landed warm and dangerous between you.
He stood too fast for his leg to like it, and you saw the brief check in the movement, the flash of irritation across his face at his own body. Then he was right there, close enough that your breath touched his mouth.
“If you’re gonna do something,” he said, voice low and rough, “do it.”
You kissed him.
It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t tentative. It was mouth and heat and nerve, the kind of kiss built out of too much restraint, too much noticing, too many late-night hallway run-ins and clipped conversations and all the things he’d kept behind his teeth.
For half a second, Jack went still.
Then he made a sound against your mouth—low, rough, almost unwilling—and kissed you back like restraint had finally become more painful than giving in. One hand caught your jaw. The other found your waist, fingers pressing hard enough to make your breath snag. His mouth moved over yours with sudden, devastating precision, and all at once he was everywhere: the heat of his chest, the scrape of his jaw, the clean bite of hospital soap still clinging to his skin, the rigid tension in his body breaking into want.
The force of it walked you back a step.
Then another.
Until the backs of your knees hit the couch and he broke away just long enough to look at you like he was trying to decide whether this was a terrible idea or merely the worst one he’d had all year.
“Tell me to stop,” he said.
You stared at him.
He held your gaze. Waiting. Dead serious now.
You shook your head once.
Something in him gave.
He kissed you again, harder this time, one hand sliding behind your neck while the other dragged up your spine and settled between your shoulder blades, pinning you close without asking twice. His tongue pushed past your lips, hot and sure, and the sound it pulled from you seemed to hit him somewhere low. You clutched at his scrub top, felt the heat of him through worn cotton, the hard plane of his chest, the breadth of his shoulders, the strength he carried even tired, even hurting, even trying not to.
He kissed like he did everything else—focused, unsparing, completely there.
When he pulled back, both of you were breathing harder, a thin string of spit stretching between your mouths for one dizzy second before it snapped.
“This is a bad idea,” he said.
“Probably.”
His forehead tipped briefly to yours, a rough almost-laugh leaving him. “You’re not helping.”
“I don’t think you want help.”
“No,” he said, and there was nothing guarded in it at all. “I don’t.”
The next kiss was slower. Meaner. His tongue moved against yours, deep and deliberate, and when you tried to chase the pressure of his mouth, he caught your bottom lip between his teeth and pulled until your breath broke. His hand slid to the small of your back, broad and possessive without a word, holding you there like he’d finally stopped pretending he didn’t want to.
You tugged him closer. He let you.
The couch caught the back of his leg when he shifted, and he muttered a curse under his breath.
You pulled back just enough to look at him. “Your leg—”
“Still attached.”
“Jack.”
He looked at you, flushed and breathless and a little furious at the interruption. Beautiful in a way that made your chest ache.
“I’m fine,” he said.
The automatic answer almost made you smile.
You touched his face instead.
That stopped him.
Your palm against his cheek. Your thumb near the line of his mouth. Something quiet passed through his expression then—surprise, maybe. Or maybe just the shock of gentleness.
He turned his head and pressed one brief kiss to the inside of your wrist.
The gesture was so unexpectedly soft it nearly wrecked you.
Then he stepped back just enough to sit, pulling you carefully with him until you were half in his lap, half against the couch cushions. The movement was slower now, measured around the pull in his leg, but no less sure for it.
You kissed him again, and again, and the room seemed to blur at the edges around the two of you.
His fingers found the zipper at the back of your dress and dragged it down slowly, tooth by tooth, until the fabric loosened around you. Then his hand slipped inside, warm and broad, rubbing over the bare skin just beneath the band of your bra like he’d been thinking about touching you there for weeks.
The details after that came in fragments.
Your fingers in his hair.
The scratch of his jaw against your skin when his mouth found the side of your neck.
The low, involuntary sound that left you at the first pull of his hand at your waist.
The way he went still for half a second at hearing it, then cursed softly into your throat like restraint had become physically painful.
“Jack,” you breathed.
“Yeah.”
There was a question in the word. And an answer. And too much else besides.
You kissed him until the name lost shape between you.
At some point you were in his bedroom. You couldn’t have said exactly how. Only that he got there with you in the same deliberate way he did everything—without hurry, but without hesitation either. From the living room, he guided you down the short hall inside 4B, past the half-open bathroom door and into the room at the back of his apartment. Lamp light. Rumpled sheets. The plain dark blue comforter. A book facedown on the nightstand beside a half-empty glass of water, a blister pack of pain relievers, and a pair of reading glasses folded neatly on a small nightstand. Evidence of a real life, interrupted.
He stopped at the edge of the bed and looked at you.
Really looked.
Not rushed. Not hungry in the careless way men sometimes were. Just intent. Taking you in like he wanted to memorize what exactly had changed the night.
You reached for the straps of your dress where they’d slipped loose on your shoulders. He caught your hand.
“Let me,” he said.
The words sank straight through you.
So you did.
He undressed you with the same focus he brought to everything else, hands steady, eyes on yours often enough that it felt impossible to hide inside the moment. Every movement was attentive. Every pause meaningful. The room filled with heat and the soft sounds of breath and fabric and the unsteady beat of your pulse in your ears.
When you touched him in return, he exhaled sharply, forehead tipping forward for a second like he needed to gather himself.
You smiled, a little shaky. “You okay, doctor?”
His gaze lifted, dark and direct. “Not even close.”
His hands were still on your shoulders, thumbs tracing the curve of bone where the straps of your dress had been. The air in his bedroom was thick and warm, the fan blade spinning slow overhead, and you could smell him—sweat and coffee and something clean underneath, something that made you want to press your face against his chest and breathe.
"You're shaking," he said. Not a question.
"I'm not."
His thumb found your pulse. Held there. "Yeah, you are."
You wanted to say something clever, something that would break the tension, but your throat was tight and your skin was hot where his hands had been and the dim light caught the gray in his stubble and made him look tired in a way that made your chest ache. So instead you reached for him. Your fingers found the hem of his scrub top, bunched the fabric, pulled.
He let you. Watched you. Didn't help and didn't stop you.
You got it over his head. His arms came up slow, like he was giving you time to change your mind. Then he was bare-chested in front of you and you forgot how to breathe. He was broad, solid, a pale scar curving over his ribs, his skin warm and flushed. You wanted to put your mouth on every inch of him.
"Look at me," he said.
You did. His eyes were dark, unreadable, but his jaw was tight and his breathing had changed—shorter, shallower. He was affected. He was trying not to show it.
"If we do this," he said, slow and low, "I'm not gonna be gentle."
"I don't want gentle."
Something flickered in his eyes. Then his hand was in your hair, fisting the dark strands at the base of your skull, tipping your head back. His mouth found your throat—open-mouthed, wet, a scrape of stubble that made you gasp. His other hand slid down your spine, pressed you into him, and you felt how hard he was through his scrub pants. Felt the heat of him. The want.
"Bed," he muttered against your skin. "Now."
You moved backward until your knees hit the edge of the mattress. The sheets were rumpled, the pillow dented from where he'd slept last night. He followed you down, one hand braced beside your head, the other finding your hip.
"You on birth control?"
"Yes."
He nodded. A short, sharp motion. "Good. 'Cause I don't have condoms. Been a while."
You should have said something reassuring. Instead you reached between you, palmed him through his pants. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. His eyes closed for half a second, and in that half-second you saw the fight leave him. Saw him stop pretending.
"Fuck," he breathed. Then his mouth was on yours again, harder this time, his tongue sliding against yours, his hand finding your breast and squeezing, thumb dragging over your nipple until you arched into him.
He tugged your panties down your thighs. You lifted your hips to help him. Then his hand was between your legs, two fingers sliding through wet heat, and he made a sound low in his throat. "Jesus. You're soaked."
"Jack—"
"I know." He pushed a finger inside you. Then another. You gasped, your hands fisting in the sheets. He watched your face as he worked you open, slow and deliberate, his thumb pressing circles against your clit. "That's it. Take it."
You were trembling, your hips rocking against his hand, and he was still watching you like he was memorizing every sound you made. When he pulled his fingers out, you whimpered. He brought them to his mouth, licked them clean, and your cunt clenched at the sight of it.
He kicked off his pants, pulling the pant leg free from his prosthetic. His cock was hard, flushed, the head slick. He stroked himself once, twice, then he was pushing your thighs apart and positioning himself at your entrance. The head of him pressed against you, and you felt the ache of it, the promise.
He looked at you. His eyes were dark and his breathing was ragged and he looked like a man standing at the edge of something he wasn't sure he'd survive.
"Tell me," he said. "Tell me you want this."
"I want this. I want you. Please, Jack."
He pushed in. Slow. An inch. Then another. Your body stretched around him, taking him, and you heard yourself make a sound you didn't recognize. He was thick, and he was filling you, and when he was fully seated he stopped, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot on your lips.
"Fuck," he said, the word punched out of him. "You feel—" He couldn't finish. He pulled out and thrust back in, and the sound you made was raw and desperate.
He fucked you like a man who'd been holding back for months. Each thrust deep and deliberate, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, his mouth at your throat, your ear, muttering things you could barely hear—"that's it, take it, take all of it, you feel so fucking good."
You came with your legs wrapped around him, your nails raking his back, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. He followed a moment later, his hips stuttering, his groan low and broken as he spilled inside you. You felt it—hot and deep, filling you—and you clenched around him, riding it out together.
He stayed inside you for a long moment. His breathing was ragged against your neck. Then he pulled out, slow, and you felt the warmth of him leaking from you, trickling down your thigh.
He looked at it. Looked at you. His thumb found your chin, tilted your face up.
"You're staying," he said. Not a question.
You nodded, ending up sprawled against him beneath the covers, one of his arms heavy around your waist, the lamp still on. His chest rose and fell under your cheek. Your dress was somewhere on the floor.
For a long time neither of you said anything.
Then, against your hair, he murmured, “You okay?”
The question was so Jack it made your throat tighten.
You tilted your face up just enough to look at him. “Yeah.”
He studied you for a second, as if verifying it.
Then he nodded once. Satisfied.
You traced a fingertip lightly along the line of his collarbone. “You?”
He huffed a tired laugh. “Ask me in eight hours.”
You smiled into his chest.
The light stayed on a while longer. At some point he reached over, switched it off, and settled back with a quiet exhale that sounded more worn out than unhappy.
In the dark, with the city muffled beyond the windows and his warmth surrounding you, it felt dangerously easy to imagine this as something that had always been waiting for you just across the hall.
Morning came pale and cold through the curtains.
For one disorienting second, you forgot where you were.
Then the smell of coffee reached you, and everything came back in a rush.
You sat up in Jack’s bed, tangled in unfamiliar sheets, naked beneath the covers, the bedroom door standing open. Beyond it, soft cabinet sounds came from the kitchen.
Your dress was still a rumpled heap on the floor, half inside out and not worth wrestling with before coffee. One of Jack’s T-shirts had been tossed over the back of a chair instead, soft and worn and easier to reach, so you slipped it on and let it fall down to your legs.
You padded out carefully, one hand skimming the wall, following the short hall from his bedroom back toward the kitchen.
Jack was standing at the counter with his back half-turned to you, already dressed in a t-shirt and sweats, moving with that morning stiffness you were starting to understand. The coffee maker hissed behind him. His phone sat face-down near the sink, buzzing once, then falling silent.
He glanced over his shoulder.
Neither of you spoke for half a second.
Then he said, “Morning.”
The single word held no awkwardness. No retreat. Just the roughness of sleep and coffee not yet fully doing its job.
“Morning,” you echoed.
He nodded toward the mug already waiting on the counter. “That one’s yours.”
You walked over and wrapped both hands around it, grateful for the heat.
“You always do this?” you asked.
“Make coffee?”
“Pretend everything’s normal.”
He looked at you then, properly. The corners of his eyes lined with fatigue, mouth still a little swollen from kissing, expression unreadable for all of a second before it settled into something drier.
“This is normal,” he said. “It’s coffee.”
You laughed softly.
His phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen and snorted.
“Robby?” you asked.
“Unfortunately.”
He let it ring out and reached for his own mug instead.
That little choice—small, casual, almost nothing—lodged somewhere deep in your chest.
The kitchen was quiet except for the hum of the fridge. Outside, someone in the hall dragged a trash bag toward the chute. Ordinary building noises. Ordinary morning light.
Your eyes dropped to the line of his stance. The careful distribution of weight. The slight pull when he turned.
He caught you looking.
“What.”
“You’re limping.”
“I always limp.”
“More.”
He took a sip of coffee, unbothered on purpose. “Occupational hazard.”
“You should take it easy today.”
His eyebrows went up. “Take it easy.”
“Yes.”
“After you brought chaos into my home?”
You smiled into your mug. “I brought questionable romantic choices and emotional growth.”
“That was not emotional growth.”
“No?”
“No.” He set his mug down. “That was you bringing home a man who thought ‘goodnight’ meant opening negotiations.”
You laughed hard enough that he finally smiled—really smiled this time, brief but visible and unfairly good on him.
The warmth of it stayed in the room after it faded.
You looked down at your coffee because suddenly the moment felt a little too real in the best and worst way.
When you looked back up, he was watching you.
Not guarded. Not open, exactly. Just present.
“There’s a spare key with the super,” he said.
You blinked. “What?”
“For your apartment.” He leaned one hip against the counter, face unreadable again in that deliberate way of his. “But if you keep locking yourself out, or your smoke detector starts screaming, or some idiot follows you home again—”
He stopped there, like the list had already said more than he’d intended.
Your pulse picked up.
“Then what?” you asked quietly.
His gaze held yours.
“Then knock on my door first.”
The words settled between you with more weight than any declaration could have.
Not dramatic. Not polished. Not easy.
Just true.
You swallowed. “Okay.”
He nodded once, as if an agreement had been reached. Then he picked up his mug again and took a sip, looking annoyingly composed for a man who had just changed the shape of your life in one sentence.
You stood there in his kitchen, in his shirt, holding your coffee while the light crept brighter across the floor.
Across the hall, your apartment waited with its new smoke detector battery, dangerous strawberries, and all the ordinary pieces of the life you’d had yesterday.
Here, in 4B, Jack Abbot leaned against his counter, tired and sharp-edged and impossible, looking at you like he’d finally stopped being decent about wanting you.
And that was the trouble with good neighbors—they only stayed good until you let them in.
i have nothing appropriate to say abt jack
When the post smut clarity hits and you realize that you’re just a pervert
When the fanfic was going amazing but the author ruined it by making yn compete with another female character for the male leads attention
FELL IN LOVE WITH HER IN STAGES; dr jack abbot x dr!reader
a part two to THE FIVE STAGES but can also technically be read independently
words: 12.4k
content warnings: 18+ smutty!! medical procedures, mentions of death, my fluffy cutie pies
notes: sorta kinda based off of a couple lines in this banger
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack Abbot used to despise sleep. Even if he had managed to get himself to fall asleep, there was no way he had ever stayed asleep. It was quite ironic, really. A doctor, who knew the very real and serious ramifications of a bad sleep schedule, who never slept anyways.
It wasn't his night shift sleep schedule that kept him up, though. It was the nightmares.
It was the sand in his mouth after the IED that took his leg went off. The high pitched, loud ringing in his ears. The puddle in his pants. He had been so naive. He thought he had peed himself. He hadn't realized it was his own blood, bone, and flesh blown to smithereens until hours later - on a makeshift operating table while falling in and out of consciousness.
It was the memories of his buddies who lost far more than a limb. The wails of their families at their services. The buttons falling off of his formal army uniform. Worn to one too many funerals held for people who passed far too young.
It was his late wife. Although, those ones were a welcome visit, they still stung the worst of all. It left him with the kind of bone heavy sadness that felt like an excruciating hangover when he woke up.
If you would've told the Jack Abbot of five years ago that now he relished sleep, even looked forward to going to bed, he would have called you a liar. He would have never believed that he could fall asleep and stay asleep at the drop of a hat.
But it was true. On one condition, though. He could sleep soundly as long as she was in his bed. In his arms.
They had only officially been together for about four months but the second he had gotten a taste of what it was like to be with her, share a space with her - he couldn't give it up.
He had practically begged her to move in with him when her lease had been up at the end of the summer. Not that she had needed much convincing. Her only hang up had been not wanting to leave her roommate, Dr Ellis, high and dry with her half of the rent. So Jack paid a year's worth up front. Now that both her and Dr Ellis were on attending salaries, that was more than enough to get her through. They were both still thanking him profusely for it.
He felt like he should be thanking them. Now Jack and her shared an address and most importantly a bed. A bed where they got exceptional sleep - unless involved in other exceptional extracurricular activities.
Her back was to his shirtless chest, her hands tucked under her cheek and his arm slung over her waist. He was in one of those lucid states where he was asleep but he knew he was in a dream. He was hoping this dream wasn't a far off reality, though.
Oh yeah, he dreams now. No more nightmares.
A normal person probably wouldn't have even called what Jack had dreamt about that night anything particularly special. But it was to him.
With the leaves changing and Halloween only a week or so away, he had been having this dream all month - the details becoming sharper with each one.
He dreamt of them married, of course. A large, sparkling rock on her left ring finger. Probably one he at least had to get some help in picking out. She was the stylish one in the relationship - not him.
He dreamt of their new house. One big enough for the kids he dreamt about to grow up in. Not too big, though. Still homey and very much, unmistakably theirs.
In this particular dream, they had twins. One perfect boy and one perfect girl. It was Halloween and they were barely toddlers - dressed up in the same Harry Potter costumes as their parents.
He made her some cocktail she had found on Pinterest called 'Witches Brew' even though it was really just a festive Moscow Mule. He'd put it into portable mugs for them to sip on as they strolled the neighborhood, trick or treating with their kids.
Their kids had manners like their mom. Said please and thank you, all the time, not only when trick or treating. One would get tired way too early like their dad and retreat to their warm stroller while they waited for the other to finish up at the neighbors' doorstep.
It wasn’t cold outside - simply crisp. As they waited, he turned to her and opened up his arms, letting her cuddle into his chest. He wrapped her up in his coat, knowing she purposely hadn’t brought one so he would do this. He loved it. He loved her.
She kissed his collarbone, murmured an 'I love you'. He blushed. Then tugged at the Hogwarts school girl skirt she had on. It felt like a super power that he didn't even have to say anything to make her blush. She whispered 'Perv' in his ear and he cracked a laugh, blushing even more at the feel of her smile against his neck.
Then their perfect baby skipped down the neighbors' yard to them - beaming with pride at their new candy. Neither of them had ever acted so excited to see a Crunch bar in their life.
He had become more conscious than not. It was quiet outside. Wind softly knocking at their bedroom windows. The sun was low. Barely up - letting Jack know he had woken up before the alarm he had set for her. Dr Al-Hashimi had called her last night with the flu, asking her to fill in the rare day shift today.
He snuggled himself closer to her, tightening his grip around her waist and tangling their legs. His hand traveled up under his shirt that she was wearing. Stopped right below her boob, at her rib, feeling for her steady heartbeat. The thud lulled him to sleep every night and woke him up every morning. The beat of her heart was her literal lifeline and his metaphorical one.
He wouldn’t tell her about the dream. He didn't want to pressure her with the kid stuff. They had already moved pretty fast. And of course he would help as much as humanly possible, but with kids she would be doing most of the sacrifice - her body, her time, her hormones - everything. He'd like to have kids but he would be okay otherwise. It was up to her. As long as he had her - he was perfectly happy.
He indulged himself a bit. Moved his hand to splay against her stomach, imagining the same thud of a baby heartbeat. He relished in it for a moment and then went back up to cradle her rib.
He was content to stop there - was going to. Until her hand intertwined with his and placed his palm over her boob. Her nipple was already hard and a breathy moan tumbled from her parted lips.
Jack could take a hint - slowly kneading her boob as he placed soft kisses down her neck. Her hand reached behind her, finding its home in his curls and tugging just barely - like his chest wasn't already as close to her back as he could get. He rucked her tshirt up to give him better access to her tits as he planted his thigh between her legs. She was fucking soaked all the way through her panties.
"Dreaming about me?" Jack let out, gruff and far less awake than he thought he would sound.
"You have no idea." She breathed, needy.
"Trust me. I do." He grunted, pressed his already hard cock to her ass. She whined as he twisted her nipple.
"Sensitive, hm?" He mumbled into her neck, sucking lightly.
"I wonder why." She sassed, alluding to last night. Jack couldn't help that he liked marking her where no one else could see but him.
"Mm sorry, baby. Lemme make it up to you."
He flipped her over, her back hitting the mattress as he hovered. He lowered slowly, dropping down to suck on her tits. Keeping to himself that he was imagining them full. The same thing he was imagining about her stomach. He pressed down on it to stop her from squirming against his thigh.
"Patience." He rasped against her chest, "You gonna be good for me?”
"I am gonna be late." She tried to rock herself against his thigh again but he held her hips steady, tilted his chin up to look her in the eyes.
"I think we have time for a little breakfast in bed, don't you think?"
"No, I don't thi-" She moaned loudly as his tongue licked up her pulsing cunt, her vision blurring. He had kept eye contact as he kissed down her body, settled his face between her thighs, tugging her panties down with him and wasting no time in getting his mouth on her dripping center.
He made a mental note to ask her later what the hell she had been dreaming about. She was already halfway to her first orgasm and he had barely touched her properly yet.
He spit on her clit before tugging it gently between his teeth. This was his favorite view, her writhing above him. Tugging on his hair and pretty little noises falling from her lips. Jack slipped two fingers into her as his tongue swirled around her. Her drawn out wispy whines gave way to more concrete, high-pitched and quicker moans.
The second his fingers felt that familiar pressure and his tongue felt the same distinct quiver in the bundle of nerves, he pressed his tongue flat against it. He let her ride out her first orgasm against his tongue and fingers, pulling her hips down further onto his face, making her chase her high rather than run from it.
She had other plans, hurriedly tugging him back up to her. He barely got out a rough, "Ya taste fucking incredible, sweetheart." before she was slotting her mouth against his own.
He groaned into her. The thought of her tasting herself on his tongue really did it for him. His hand caressed her thigh, hooking it over his own hip. He squeezed her ass as she scratched at his freckled back. She reached to pull his boxers down. His erection slapped against his stomach as she lined herself up.
Jack whistled out a low, mocking laugh and stilled her hips, "What'd I say about patience, baby? You forget who's in charge here or what?"
He flipped her around, back to their original position - her back to his broad chest. Except this time he had one hand kneading her tit while the other put her in a headlock. His arm wrapped around her neck and his bicep pressed deliciously against her throat.
"Jack, c'mon. I am gonna be late."
"I know my good girl can be much more polite than that." His hand trailed to her clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle as she continued to whine.
"Need to feel you. Need it so bad, c'mon."
She rocked her hips back against him again, hoping for some kind of relief but he stopped her. Landed a hard slap to her ass before going back to her clit.
"Thought you were gonna be late?" Jack mused, lips preening in satisfaction. All he got was whiney babbles in return.
His hand traveled up to splay against her cheek, turning her face towards his own so he could press his lips onto hers. Her tongue found its way into his mouth almost immediately. Jack would’ve stopped and enjoyed it for a moment more if he didn’t know exactly what she was trying to do.
Her hips rolled again, desperately searching for any friction. He pulled away from her swollen lips, pursed his own as he slapped the tip of his hard cock against her dripping cunt. She whimpered at the sensation.
A trail of spit connected their lips, his words skidded roughly down her spine, “For someone who is so damn smart you’re sure having a tough time listening, huh?”
He dragged the tip of his cock against her again. Slower this time. Torturous. His tone was sickly sweet and bordering the kind of condescension he knew turned her on, “I’ll give you what you need if you show me you can listen. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”
All she could manage was a whine and a barely there nod in response, her eyes fluttering closed. Jack swiped his thumb over her bottom lip, gently tugging her mouth open, “Eyes on me, baby.”
Her dazed eyes slowly came back to his own, a cocky smile spreading on Jack’s lips as they did. Not even 7 AM and he had her looking at him like that. He was one lucky bastard.
“Swallow.” He ordered, the same way he would if they were at work. The commanding way he knew got her worked up. He dribbled his own spit onto her tongue, cock hardening at the feeling of her throat swallowing against his headlock.
“Good job, baby. Knew my smart girl could listen.” He cooed, soothingly.
He placed a gentle kiss to her forehead and then her lips, his hand released her face and traveled back down to rub her clit. His tip rested right at her entrance.
She writhed against him, increasingly desperate for contact. Jack teasingly tutted at her best he could. He loved hearing her beg for him but he could only keep his composure for so long. He wanted her just as bad - if not more.
"Say please." He demanded.
"Please, please, please Jack." She begged. It sounded like music to his ears.
"There's my good girl. There she is." Jack murmured as he pressed kisses into her hair.
He couldn't keep his groan contained as he slid into her, "Ugh fuck mm fucking love you so much."
His pace was torturously slow for the both of them. He could feel her frustration in the way her soft, wet walls were gripping him. She tipped her head down and lightly bit onto his bicep at the stretch of him. That made Jack's head dizzy.
He dragged her free hand under his own and stopped at her sopping clit, "Touch yourself for me, baby. Wanna play with these pretty tits."
Her moan vibrated against his bicep, slobbery with her spit as he went back to kneading her tits, twisting and pinching at her nipples. He could tell she was close by the way she was squeezing him and the pace at which she was rubbing herself. God knew Jack was always fucking close when it came to her. All she had to do was breathe and he was turned on.
He knew he wasn’t gonna last long. He never did in the morning and she already had him so impossibly pent up.
"C'mon baby, want you to come with me. Can you be a good girl and do that for me?" Jack barely got the words out, his own release shuddering through him at the same time as hers, panting out yes yes yes as she did.
He collapsed down onto her boobs, placing feather light kisses on them. He didn't even bother to pull out as he wrapped his arms around her, laying right on top of her.
She pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, playing with his curls as she huffed, "How am I supposed to go to work after that?"
"Easy. You're not." Jack grumbled.
"I gotta go, baby. I am gonna be late."
"Okay. Go." Jack knew he was being petulant. She couldn't go anywhere with all of his body weight on top of her.
"Jack."
"Yes, my love?" He acted innocent, pressing more lingering kisses across her chest as he hummed.
"You're not playing fair." She whined.
"Well it's not fair that Robby gets to spend the day with you and I don't." Jack was not above pouting if it meant they got to spend the day together as they originally had planned.
"You'll see me later."
Yes, he would see her later. At the department Halloween party after shift. The department that had no idea they were actually together other than their respective best friends, Robby and Ellis.
"Yeah, but I have to behave there." He groaned at the torturous thought.
She was an attending now. They technically didn't have to hide but they figured it didn't hurt to push off going to HR. They were afraid it would impede on them being able to work the same shifts. Neither of them were ready to give that up. He didn't think they ever would be. They hoped they wouldn’t have to.
They were more than capable of keeping it professional at work. Honestly, he was probably worse the past couple years when he thought he was silently pining over her than he was now. He used to be so desperate for any time or interaction or attention he could get from her at work because that was all he got. But now he had her at home too.
"Honestly, one of us is bound to get us caught eventually." He didn’t miss her heavy implication that she meant him.
"Oh, I know you're not talking about me." Jack feigned offense and squeezed at her sides, starting to tickle her. A big grin spread across his face as the sounds of her laughter reverberated off the walls of their bedroom.
The trill of the alarm went off. Jack cursed himself for being a good boyfriend and setting it for her the night prior after she’d fallen asleep. He reluctantly moved off of her to reach for his phone and shut it off, "Saved by the bell." He grumbled.
He cleaned them both up with the tshirt she had slept in before she lazily rose from the bed. Then she gently helped him into his wheelchair. He didn't need the help. He had done it for years without her. But she had taught him to learn to accept the help. The same way he did for her. Because she loved him. The same way he did her.
They brushed their teeth together before she headed for a quick shower and Jack slipped to the kitchen to pack her breakfast. He knew she'd be rushing out the door and she wasn't missing a meal on his watch. He purposely didn't pack her lunch so he had an excuse to swing by and see her during the day.
He wheeled himself down the hallway to their shared bedroom. He could partially see her stood in front of their dresser, donned in a large tshirt she had thrown on after her shower in lieu of her robe being in the washer.
She was tugging on panties when he stopped in the doorway. She peeled off the tshirt next, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. Jesus Christ Jack thought. No wonder they never got anywhere on time.
"Oh and I am the one not playing fair?" Jack nodded his chin at her naked frame.
She balled the shirt and threw it at him, laughing.
"You are such a drama queen."
"I love your brother and all but I would much rather go golfing with you."
"Well, think of it this way - at least you'll actually finish the entire round without me there." She pulled her scrubs on and passed him in the doorway. Jack wheeled himself around to follow her.
Her and Jack hadn't started golfing because they were good at it. Quite the opposite, actually. They had started because he needed a hobby that wasn't life endangering. They had continued golfing because she liked wearing cute, short golf skirts and Jack really liked watching her in them.
They usually made it about halfway through the round before one of them would get a little too handsy in the golf cart. Jack would make some dumb joke about engaging in 'fore-play' and then they'd be dragging each other home. No recollection, or really care, for whatever the score was. It was quite the understatement that Jack was happy he had swapped the SWAT hobby for golf.
She flashed around their kitchen. Gathering the bag Jack had packed for her - full of snacks and her various beverages she swore she needed to make it through every shift. He watched her fondly, savoring her while he had her. Before the Pitt sucked her in for the day.
He handed her her coffee as she plopped herself down on his lap for a moment, "Thank you." She nodded to all the stuff he had done for her that morning and placed a sweet kiss on his lips.
Jack saw his opportunity and he took it. Securing her in his lap with one arm wrapped around her waist, the other cradling her cheek. She let him deepen the kiss for a minute before she pressed her hand to his chest, murmured against his lips, "I love you but if I let this go any further then I really am gonna be late and I would like to keep this job."
She reluctantly got up. He reluctantly let her. She was a flurry of 'love you' and 'thank you' and a 'have fun at golf!' before she was out the door. Her car rumbled alive in the garage and he accepted defeat.
Her loud pop music blasted for a split second before it went quiet. The door to their garage was opened again as she burst through it, "I knew you couldn't resist me!" Jack teased.
She playfully rolled her eyes as she snagged her badge off the counter in dramatic fashion, thankful she didn't forget it. She pecked him on the lips one more time and then the house was quiet again.
Jack checked his phone for the time. Only like twelve more hours till he got to see her again.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack was latching on the special prosthetic he wore for golf when his phone lit up with a text message from the Pitt ED group chat. It was from Robby.
From Robby: Documenting history - she is wearing the right uniform for once in her life. Only took like five years.
Attached was a photo of her. She sat at the hub, chatting with Donnie and ignoring Robby as she flipped her middle finger at his camera.
She had a very well known affinity for wearing anything but the black scrub top that was technically required for all physicians in the PTMC emergency department.
Jack let it slide on the night shift. Partially because that was the unspoken rule of being saddled with working the night shift. You got to wear what you wanted, your stethoscope could go around your neck, and you could eat at the hub without Dana castrating you.
But mostly for selfish reasons. She usually replaced the black scrub top with a much more form fitting Lululemon short sleeve. And if Jack was lucky and it was cold, she wore the extra sweatshirt he would bring for her. For years he pretended he brought it for himself but he ran hot.
He admitted that to her about a week into dating. She then confessed to never bringing her own sweatshirt, even though she ran cold, because she liked wearing his.
Her hair was in its usual half up half down style, clipped back and out of her face. Her undershirt was a bright, spring yellow - one of Jack's favorite colors on her. Her badge was tangled and clipped backwards against her shirt pocket. Another night shift habit. There had been one too many weirdly inappropriate patients who took a name badge as an invitation to look their doctor up through social media and ask them out.
A dopey smile tugged on his lips at the sight of her. He felt like a dork, grinning at his phone screen alone in their living room, but he couldn't help himself. Not when it came to her.
Jack Abbot loved an image
From Santos: Abbot ghosting the group chat for months and coming back just to love that picture is very on brand
From Shen: Fork found in kitchen
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack was supposed to be having a relaxing day at the golf course. The eight year old boy who climbed up on top of a golf cart and fell off of it onto hard pavement - had other plans.
"Kid needs an airway before he arrests." Jack announced to the room. He knew she knew that but sometimes muscle memory took over his mouth in the trauma bay.
It earned Jack a look from her. Silently asking, 'Do you think I am stupid?'. He would never make that mistake. She was the smartest person he had ever met.
They worked in tandem - like they always did. Jack called for broselow tape, a pedes cart, and to set up suction. She called for a five and half ET tube, 30 of rock and 50 of ketamine - causing Whitaker to pause his rapid movements.
"You're gonna paralyze?" He asked.
"Yep." She gloved up as she answered.
"If we can't intubate...we crike?"
"He is too young for a crike."
"Needle crike?" Whitaker suggested, his voice wavering as he realized both their options and the kid’s time were very scarce.
"Can't ventilate through that." She answered calmly. Like she had access to a solution no one else did.
"Sats down to 78." Jack interrupted. This was her trauma bay right now but again, muscle memory. He couldn't help himself. He loved working with her. Even if he was technically off of the clock.
"I need an 11 blade, Kelly, and a pedes bougie, please. One quick look and then we cut." She directed sharply but also politely. It was not lost on Jack or the rest of the staff that she never forgot her pleases and thank you's no matter the stress of the situation.
They all muttered a low fuck when the scan came up blank. Jack studied her - trying to read her next move. Normally, he could, but right now it seemed like the kid was running out of options…and time.
"Okay - towel roll between the shoulder blades, please." She requested pointedly.
"Heart rate down to 49 - headed into cardiac arrest! Trake's gonna take 20 minutes. This kid isn't gonna last 60 seconds!" Robby trilled, needing no introduction as he burst into the trauma bay.
Jack bit back his laugh at the eye roll she gave Robby’s dramatics.
"Thank you, Captain Obvious. That is why we are doing a slash trake."
The air was sucked out of the room. She said it calmly. As if it was something they did everyday. Like it was as easy as an IV. They all froze, stared at her in disbelief.
"Don't know it." Jack admitted, breaking the silence. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him. Shocked that he of all people didn't know the procedure. Especially, because she seemed to. He had been her attending for the previous four years. If she had learned this from somewhere - they just figured it had been him.
"Me neither. Boss?" Whitaker asked Robby who had taken up residence at the head of the bed.
Robby reluctantly shrugged. Seemingly thinking 'What the hell'. They had no other options, "Nope. Show me what you got, kid."
Not that she needed his permission, but she took that as her directive. Whitaker handed her the blade and in she went. Unhurried but precise. Slow is steady and steady is fast. Jack always told her that.
"Pull up the trachea between your thumb and middle finger. Vertical incision right over the trachea. Vertical. Not horizontal or you transect the trachea and cut the jugular veins."
"That's a lot of blood." Whitaker went sheet white.
"Now it's a tactile procedure. 2 centimeter incision through the tracheal rings. Finger in the trachea. Bougie into the airway. Thoughts on what's next, Dr Whitaker?"
Jack knew she noticed Whitaker's uneasiness and was purposely keeping him engaged in the job at hand with that question. That’s what made her such a great teacher. Usually people as smart as her were not good teachers. But she was. She was perceptive and empathetic and patient. Knew when to be firm but never unkind. It was one of the many, many things Jack loved about her.
"Insert the ET tube into the trachea."
She nodded her approval, "Suction. There is lots of blood in the airway."
Jack watched her study the pool of blood as it dried up. Diligently making sure it was gone before she spoke, "Okay, bag him. Check the CO2."
Her wish was his command. Jack answered, "Sats coming up. In the 80s. Bilateral breath sounds. End tidal CO2 is 70.”
“That's crazy high." Whitaker's voice shook as he spoke.
"It'll come down. Tie down the tube, control all the bleeders. Spray an amp of epi on a stack of four by fours." She showed not one sign of worry as she lifted her blood soaked, gloved hands from the kid's throat. Carefully peeling them off herself so as to not get blood on her new yellow undershirt.
"Okay, Sats are up to the 90s. Good. CO2's in the 50s. Good heart rate." Robby closed his eyes and rubbed his temples as he spoke. Jack couldn't remember the last time he had heard Robby sound that relieved.
A beat of silence and then, Whitaker blew out a huge, rattling breath. Wiping sweat off of his forehead, "You forgot the last step - change your underwear. Holy shit!"
The nerves and worry in the room fell to relief - everyone let out an exasperated, albeit tired, laugh.
"What the hell do you guys get up to on the night shift!?" Robby chuckled, hand swiping over his beard as he shook his head in disbelief.
"That was all her!" Jack shot his hands up in surrender, then pretended to bow down towards her, a proud smile plastered across his face.
"When have you done that before?" Robby asked her, genuinely curious.
"I haven't.”
Jack could have dropped to a knee and proposed right then.
The nonchalance dripping from her tone paired with the slightly cocky but mostly confident smirk on her face took him back to her first shift of her intern year. When she did an emergency reboa for the first time unattended and in the middle of the hallway during a mass casualty incident.
Jack remembered trying to look pissed off when Langdon told him. He knew he had to reprimand her - no matter how thoroughly impressed he was with her.
He wasn't even sure if he could reprimand her and she hadn't even been here for one full shift yet. That was bad. He had to prove to himself he could do it.
He marched over to her, uncharacteristically avoiding any eye contact because he knew he would fold the second she looked up at him. He leaned over her shoulder as she worked. Not wanting to make a show of it, whispered huskily, sternly into her ear, "You never should have done that on your own, ever.”
He expected her to look up at him with a scared expression. He was almost bracing himself for it. He'd reprimanded enough interns to know the kind of puppy pouty look that was coming his way. Usually, it would not phase him. But he knew with her - it would rip his heart out.
So when her eyes lifted to his, almost in amusement, and her full lips he definitely was not staring at quirked up into a barely there smirk - he was surprised. And that was to say the least.
Her curt nod had indicated her understanding but he was so thrown off by her atypical reaction he had to be sure. He leaned closer, their arms brushing, "Do you understand?"
She nodded again, kept her same expression steady like she saw right through him. Like she knew he was impressed but couldn't encourage her behavior because he was in charge. No matter how well they both knew she had performed that procedure.
She was lightyears ahead of every other intern in her year, almost everyone in the department. She was too humble to explicitly say it but they both knew it.
Jack could see the full grin fighting to appear on her pretty face. She was hiding it. Selfishly and probably unprofessionally, he wanted to see it, "But that was pretty badass. You saved a life. Good job."
And there it was. That smile. Coy and even more captivating than he remembered it being from that interview a couple months back.
It took everything in him to walk away then - but he did. Backed away like she was a hot stove he shouldn't touch. Jack knew he was in trouble the day she walked in for her residency interview but her first shift - that was the day he began free fall.
She had teased him about it a month into dating. They were stumbling into Jack's house after a nice dinner, all teeth and tongue. A little tipsy and very handsy. She had on a little black dress and had been rubbing her foot up his leg under the table all throughout dinner. How was Jack expected to keep his hands off of her?
Jack had paused his assault of his lips onto her neck and asked her if he had been too stern, genuine concern filling his face. She laughed. Said she had seen him be much more forbidding at work. Which he refuted with, "Yeah, but not to you. Never to you."
Then he pressed her back up against the hallway wall, tried to slot his mouth back on hers before she interrupted him, that same roguish grin playing on her lips.
"You literally told me good job and that it was badass."
"You have selective hearing."
"Or you have selective remembering." She practically purred in his ear, as she unbuttoned his slack pants, pulled down the zipper, and stroked his rock hard length through his boxers.
"So, I wasn't too harsh?" He was struggling to speak through the rough groan that reverberated up through his chest.
"No - it was hot."
Then she slipped out from under his hold, leaving him in the dust. Sauntered towards the bedroom as she slipped the dress straps down her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.
Jack ran a hand through his silver curls. He didn’t think it was physically possible but he somehow had gotten even harder now that he knew she hadn't had anything on under that dress the whole time they had been at dinner. He could not believe this was his life.
Her words had caught him by surprise but once he had collected himself, he hurriedly followed her into the bedroom. She was already spread out for him. Leaning against his pillows - her hair a little mussed from him tugging at it, her center glistening, her lip combination smudged from Jack kissing her swollen the whole Uber ride home, and her eyes half lidded.
"I was..." Jack debated on what word to use as he stopped at the foot of the bed, admiring her. In awe, turned on, inspired - he could go on forever.
He settled on, “…impressed but I couldn’t necessarily send the message to the rest of the interns that they could start doing rogue reboas. And I was trying to prove to myself that I could treat you the same as everyone else."
She bit her lip as she giggled, teasing, “Oh yeah, how’d that work out for you?”
He held her eye contact as he kissed her ankle tenderly, before settling in between her legs, draping his body weight over hers and growling against her lips, “I’d say pretty damn good.”
Whitaker's voice took Jack out of the fond memory and back into the trauma bay.
"What do you mean you haven't done that before?" Whitaker questioned, in awe. Welcome to the club, Jack thought to himself.
"Well, not really. I just practiced in the sim lab when I was at Stanford." She shrugged, her tone respectful but almost bored - like she didn't see the big deal. Like she could have been doing something as simple as ordering lunch.
She pushed out the door with her shoulder, Jack hot on her heels, "Marry me? Please?"
"You know if you missed me so much - you could've just brought me lunch."
"Who said I didn't?"
She raised her eyebrows at him as he tugged a sandwich out from his back pocket and placed it on the hub counter in front of them. It was her favorite one from the country club's cafe.
"That's been in your pocket this whole time?”
"Well, we were a little busy. You were a little busy fucking rocking that shit in there. That was the hottest thing I've ever seen!" Jack hissed excitedly. He was trying to keep his voice low so no one would hear him but he wanted to shout how much he loved her from the goddamn roof.
"You have something seriously wrong with you to be turned on in the trauma bay.” She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning in closer to whisper in his ear.
“With you running around here - it wouldn’t be the first time.” He winked. He knew that always got her. She had a mutually beneficial habit of kissing on his crows feet before they went to sleep every night.
“Is that a double entendre?” His favorite little smirk of hers played on her lips. They had both gotten the other hot and bothered in the trauma bay on numerous occasions. Both intentionally and unintentionally.
“Your words - not mine, sweetheart. Now eat, please.”
She got one bite in before she was interrupted by Dana yelling about how not eating at the hub was another rule the night shift didn’t bother to follow.
They all laughed when Dana teased that Jack was a bad influence on her. Jack could read his girlfriend’s thoughts as she grinned to herself - if only Dana knew the half of it.
She got one more bite in before Javadi was tapping her on the shoulder, her big brown eyes filled with tears.
Jack studied his girlfriend closely as her face dropped - her lips curving into a frown and a crease notched between her brows. She nodded solemnly and her own eyes started to water as she followed Javadi away without another word. The pair seemed to have had a whole conversation with just their eyes.
Jack went sick to his stomach. For better or for worse, his girl did not cry often. She was unhealthily good at being able to handle the kind of trauma they experienced in the emergency department everyday.
He hadn't planned on hanging around for the rest of her shift. She was barely halfway through it and he had a text on his phone from her brother asking if 'Dr Sexy' wanted to be picked up from the ED so they could finish their golf round.
His eyes followed her across the ED. Her usual poised posture was replaced by a slight slump of her shoulders and a dragging of her feet. Her hand shook slightly as she grabbed the door handle. Jack's mind was made up as soon as she disappeared behind the patient’s door. He wasn't going anywhere until he knew she was okay.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack was running out of excuses for why he was choosing to stay for a slow shift that he was not scheduled to be on when he finally spotted her at a hub computer. She rubbed a hand over her face, trying to hide the fact that she was wiping tears from her eyes. Noone else would've noticed but Jack knew her too well for that.
Jack saddled up next to her as she charted. He waited a beat, checking their surroundings before deeming them alone. He grabbed her hand that rested on her thigh. The other was busy on the computer mouse.
He just held it for a moment. Waiting to see if she would say anything. He didn't want to push her. Especially in the middle of the department. She was already on the verge of tears. His heart ached for her.
He gently squeezed her hand under the desk, dipped his head, looking for eye contact “Hey.” he murmured low.
“I’m fine.” Was all she gave him. Not turning her gaze from the computer for a second.
“Look at me.”
“I’m fine.” She grit out again. Still not even sparing him a glance. It was killing him.
“Sweetheart-“
She turned her head to him, eyes glossy and as quick as one tear dropped she wiped it away. Jack hadn’t even had a chance to lift his hand nevertheless do it himself. She stood up, pushing her chair back roughly. A juxtaposition to the way she gently, finally squeezed his hand back before icing him out again, "I am fine."
And then she was gone. Off to another patient, Jack presumed. Again, he studied her as she walked away. What the hell was going on?
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack had taken a picture of the board and was studying it in the break room. He was trying to find out which patient had his girl so upset and what had happened when he heard it. Heard her. Using a tone he was thankfully, incredibly unfamiliar with.
She always teased him about his eavesdropping habit. Called him Dr Nosy. He justified himself listening in on whatever this was from the break room doorway in the name of protecting her. From what? He had no idea.
"What the hell was that?" She hissed.
Oh, she was pissed.
"That was teaching her a lesson about why we don’t bring our personal issues within these walls.”
She laughed. He didn’t.
“Oh, you’re serious?” Her tone was dry and dark and Jack was scared for Robby even if Robby wasn't scared for himself.
“Why the fuck would I be joking?!”
“Open your eyes. You’re the poster child for bringing personal issues into this ER. Is it not weird to you that as the chief of the department and residency program - you haven’t been asked for one letter of recommendation this year?"
Robby took a beat. Jack could tell by his stuttering that he hadn’t even noticed.
“I didn’t. I didnt- I don’t. That's not true. I’ve written-“
“Who’s?”
“I don’t know - I think -“
“I don’t want to hear it. All I wanna hear is you apologizing to Samira. Unless you wanna berate me for my mommy issues too? She’s dead but I’m sure you’d be able to find something.” Her words dripped with sarcasm.
To keep quiet, Jack had to clamp his hand over his mouth at that one. He forgot how feisty she could get. She could shoot to kill with her words sometimes. Never directed at Jack, of course. Or anyone without good reason. That was how Jack knew Robby deserved whatever he was getting right now. She wasn’t like this often. Jack wondered what Robby had done. Didn't matter - Jack would always be on her side.
“Hey! I know you’re a junior attending now but I am still the chief of this department!”
Robby's gruff, raised tone and the emphasis of 'junior' made Jack want to step out from his hiding place. Who the fuck cared what her title was - she was the best doctor in this place. But he stayed put. He knew she wouldn't be happy with him trying to fight her battles for her.
“Well, here is an idea - start acting like it.” Jack admired the way her voice never wavered or even raised, despite Robby's insistent pushing - hoping she would stoop down to his level.
“Robby!” Jack heard Perlah call, distantly.
“I’ll apologize to Samira. I was out of line. Are we done here? Are we good?”
“Yeah, sure." Her tone was snippy but her cadence was languid. Jack could picture her pretending to pick at her nails just to look bored and get under Robby's skin, "As long as you apologize.”
“Robby!” Perlah again, closer this time.
Jack didn't hear footsteps. Robby seemed to have stayed right in place.
“Are you waiting for an invitation?" She questioned him, "Go!”
“No apology?” Robby asked. Jack could hear the cocky ass smile through the door.
“For what? Pulling your head out of your ass? Over my dead body, Robby."
They both huffed a laugh at that. Knowing the use of his nickname was a truce. A proverbial olive branch. If they were going to run this department together for the rest of the day - they couldn’t be fighting while doing so.
“You’re starting to sound like Jack.” Robby's voice sounded more distant now. He must've been moving towards wherever Perlah needed him.
“Jack is nicer.” She wasted no time in answering. A joke laced with a bit of a warning.
Jack was nicer than her when it came to Robby. And he probably shouldn't have been. As Jack was working through his own crap, he had let Robby get away with a lot of bullshit over the years.
He wasn't proud of it. He couldn't change the past. But he could change how he acted moving forward. And that was what he had begun doing.
He made sure the coast was clear before he popped out from the doorway, “And he is also incredibly turned on.”
She jumped - startled at his voice. She placed her hand over her chest, not realizing she and Robby had had an audience, “Jesus, Jack!”
He stalked towards her. Both their shoulders now leaned against the wall as they tried to keep an appropriate distance between themselves.
“You’re hot when you’re pissed.” Jack mused.
“I’m not pissed. I’m just over his bullshit.” She grumbled.
“Okay…” Jack drawled, not wanting to argue with her, “…you’re hot when you’re over Robby’s bullshit.”
“Are you done?”
His plan was working. He could see the one dimple on her right cheek, pulling her lips into a smile like a curtain.
“I mean I can keep going. You’re hot in an infinite number of scenarios.”
There it was. That smile. It didn’t reach her eyes but it was genuine. He’d take the win, “I know what you are doing.”
“I’m not doing anything.” Jack whistled, feigning ignorance to his attempts at cheering her up from whatever was going on today.
She placed her soft hand on his bicep, “Yes, you are. And I appreciate it. Appreciate you.”
“You wanna talk about it?” His eyes bored into her own, searching for any hint he could use to make this better.
His voice was soft and warm. She had told him once that it sounded like her own personal safety blanket. He hoped that was the case now.
“Not right now. Not with everyone -“ She waved her hand around and her sentence dropped. He knew what she meant. He always did.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I blew you off earlier. At the hub. I was trying not to cry for my patient’s family and for Javadi. I knew if I talked to you about it I wouldn’t be able to...not cry.”
Her chin wobbled and that was all it took for Jack's chest to crack wide open. He knew he was one of, if not the only person, she felt safe enough to be this vulnerable with. He wore that as a badge of honor.
All he wanted to do was hold her. But he couldn’t. Not there. The break room hallway was secluded but still - not at work. Not without her permission. She had more to lose than he did. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose to stop any tears.
“Hey. I know everyone in here likes to pretend otherwise but you’re a human. It’s okay to be upset.”
“I know. I just - can you just hold me for a sec, please?”
"Hold you for a sec? Hold you for a sec!?" Jack asked low and incredulously. Like he would ever dare deny her such a thing? His arms wrapped around her instinctively.
He tugged her as tight against his chest as he could. She nuzzled into the crook of his neck as he held the back of her head, rubbing up and down her back with his other broad hand. She was squeezing around his waist tight, with a grip so firm on his golf polo - like he might disappear if she loosened it a bit.
“Hold you for a sec? Have you met me?” He whispered playfully into her ear, “I could hold you for the rest of my life. That would actually be my preferred way of spending it.”
He felt the ghost of a smile against his neck, then a soft kiss. He pressed slow kisses into her hair over and over again. Letting her know that he was here in this moment and would be in every other one. As long as she’d have him.
He pulled the clip from her hair and massaged her scalp. He waited as her deep, shaky breaths eventually turned to steady, peaceful ones. He felt a few wet tears against the collar of his shirt but he just squeezed her tighter. He'd hold her all the way home if she needed. For forever, really.
“Hey, kid! Robby said you were back here. Heard you gave him an earful. He deserved it. Good on ya but we need you in-“ Dana stopped as she looked up from her iPad to see them embraced.
Dana gave her a sympathetic smile as she separated herself from Jack. Dana technically didn't know they were together but Jack wouldn't be surprised if she intrinsically just knew. They weren’t exactly subtle. She'd watched everything unfold over the past couple years. She'd been witness to the mess he was years prior to that. Dana knew everything that went on in the department.
“You good, hon?” Dana asked, genuine concern lacing her features as well as her voice.
“Yeah, yeah." She blew out a breath as Jack handed her her hair clip back. He wanted to put her hair back up himself but he figured that would be pushing their luck.
She reclipped her hair, "Where do you need me?”
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack peeled out of the locker room in a fresh pair of scrubs from his locker. If he was going to stay all shift - he may as well change out of his golf clothes.
His next order of business was to track down his girlfriend. He had made it his own personal mission to put her smile back on her face today. He was hoping that she wouldn't be able to resist making a quip at his purposely mismatched outfit of a brown undershirt, black scrub top, and navy blue cargo pants. Probably something along the lines of, "You get dressed in the dark today, Abbot?"
He accidentally ran right into Dana as he turned the corner back into the ED. Absolutely not who he was looking for.
"Just the man I was looking for! I've got someone I need you to take a look at in Room 14."
Jack groaned inwardly. He knew he shouldn't have changed into scrubs. He wasn't here to work - he was here to make sure his girlfriend was okay.
"Dana, I'm actually looking for-"
"I know," Dana gave him a wink and patted his shoulder as she walked off, "Room 14, Abbot."
Jack yelled a thank you over his shoulder at her and was off to Room 14 as quickly as his body would carry him.
He heard her before he saw her. He pulled back the curtain, revealing her. Curled into a ball in the bedside chair, tears streaming down her face as she held a piece of paper to her knees. Her whole body wracked with sobs. He drew the curtain back over the door and swiftly made his way to her. Crouching down so he was eye level with her. His heart broke at the sight.
"Oh sweetheart, come here." He took her hair clip out again and smoothed her hair over. Standing up, he placed his hands under her armpits to lift her up just enough so he could sit down on the chair and place her side saddle in his lap.
He held her for a bit, slightly rocking her. Wiping her tears with his thumbs, and then kissing over the spots where his fingers had just been. Her arms looped around his neck, gripping the curls at the nape for dear life. His shirt collar was soaked as she cried into him.
"You're okay, baby. I've got you, let it out." He cooed into her ear. He pressed kisses to her hairline as he rubbed soothingly up and down her back with one hand and her legs with the other.
Eventually the sobs reduced to stray tears. The cries waned to hiccups. He gently gripped her chin and tilted her face up to meet his.
"What's been going on with you today?"
He felt her chin quiver in his hold. Felt his own lip reflecting her pout. He just wanted to make it all better for her. She shook her head no. Jack knew what she meant. She didn't want to not tell him. But if she did - the water works would start again. She handed him the piece of paper she had been clutching.
He was confused at first. One side of the paper was collateral that was used in the patient passports. He didn't realize until he flipped it over. The usually blank side was scrawled all over. Messy, quick penmanship. Pieces of the paper had damp circles, as if someone had cried over the letter. He didn't know if it was her or whoever had wrote it.
It was a letter from her patient's husband. Now, her patient's widow. So she had lost someone today.
The man was profusely thanking her. Explaining that their family was so thankful that she was working today. That it was her who tenderly treated his wife through her last moments. That held his hand after he lost his other half. That treated him like a person rather than just another patient satisfaction score.
Jack's eye prickled with tears as he saw the army rank scrawled next to the man's signature.
"Mm sorry" She mumbled against his chest.
Jack tugged her back a bit so he could see her face. Her red, teary eyes glassy as he cradled her, wiping her tears, "You have nothing to be sorry for."
"You have to die first. Please. I still won't be able to live without you but you can't go through that again. You won't."
Jack didn't think he could love her any more. But then again he always did tell her, "I love you more than yesterday and less than tomorrow." before they fell asleep every night.
He thought she was upset about losing her patient. Which he was sure she was. But now everything made much more sense. She almost never got like this over losing patients. That was what had Jack so worried. But she was so upset because she was worried about him.
"Hey-" Jack started but stopped as soon as she cuddled her face back into his neck, hiding herself.
He gently pulled her back again, holding her eye contact and cradling her squished cheeks between his hands, "You listening?"
She nodded, sniffling.
"I love you, you know that? So much. More than I ever thought was even possible. So much it literally hurts. Loving you for five minutes would be worth the pain of going through that all over again." She turned her head slightly, placing a delicate kiss onto his palm that held her face.
Jack's voice broke a bit as he continued, "Through every stage of my life, of my grief, I’ve fallen more and more in love with you. Even if I didn’t know it yet. That pain is the reason I even have you. Is the reason I even know how to love and cherish you properly. The way you deserve, okay?”
He knew she knew that was true. Everyday was all there was. She had said that to him off hand one random day. She had a way of saying the most profound things in the most simplistic of ways. Like she didn't even notice the way she could change his life with a single sentence.
Everyday was all there was. He had since internalized it. The way he adored her showed in silly ways. Like when they'd go out to eat and when the server would ask them if they wanted dessert he would say, "Of course, it's her day!"
Which of course prompted the question if they were celebrating a birthday which Jack always shut down with, "No. S'just everyday is her day."
It usually earned him an eye roll and a shy, smiley lip bite that he'd kiss away when the server left.
He adored her in the serious ways too. Listened to her deepest, darkest thoughts. Inspired her to be a better person, a better doctor. Held her when she cried - like right now.
She propped herself up, ran a hand across his stubble and then placed a gentle kiss to his lips, spoke against them, "You're not going through that again. Not if I have anything to say about it"
“What are you gonna kill me or something?”
"Jack, I'm being serious"
"And I'm being serious. Neither of us are going anywhere for a long long long time, okay?"
She nodded. Absentmindedly kissing all over his neck, jaw, and face as she held onto him. He drew shapes across her thigh that was propped up over his lap.
"Thank you." She choked out, looking up at him with those big, bright eyes he loved so much.
Jack chuckled, "For what?"
"I think it kind of hit me how much you must love me for you to open yourself up to grief like that again. I know we've talked about it. And I watched my dad go through it but holding someone’s hand as they actually went through that today - I don't know. I don't know, I don't know." She rambled. Kissed him again and then settled on, "Just thank you for loving me. It's brave. You're brave. And I knew you were brave in the traditional way. But I don't think I have fully appreciated how brave you are in here." She tapped his chest where his heart was.
"You don't ever have to thank me for loving you. It's the honor of my lifetime. It's the easiest thing I do every day. It's like breathing. I could've used her passing as a way to sulk through life. And that's what I was doing. For a decade, until a certain someone," He lightly tickled at her sides before continuing, "waltzed into Robby's office a couple years ago and told me life should come from me and not at me. You saved my life. So if anyone should be thanking anyone it's me."
"I did not save your life. You did that, Jack. I may have just happened to be there but you did all of that. Don't sell yourself short."
"I scheduled my first therapy appointment after that interview. Because of what you said." Jack admitted.
Her breath hitched in her throat. She stuttered a bit before answering, clutching at his shirt collar. "You did?"
"Yeah, I used to go up to the roof all the time before you started here. Still do sometimes. Very rarely. But I never stand on the other side of the railing."
She gasped, "You used to stand on the other side?"
"Yeah - after almost every shift."
Her eyes were blown wide. Jack sometimes forgot how bad it was before her. The version of him that does not reconcile with the better one he was today. The version that she inspired.
"You...you don't do that anymore, right?"
"No baby, I'm not an idiot. Got something to live for now. Got you to live for. Our future to live for.”
She pressed her lips against his. Harder this time, her palm traveling to hold the back of his head, fingers latching onto his curls.
She rested her forehead on his as she spoke, "Keep that in mind because even though I said you could die first - you do still have to live till at least 100."
"I couldnt keep you out of my mind if I tried. Wouldn't wanna!" Jack placed a loud, sputtering kiss to her cheek. Popping off with a pucker that made her giggle. Finally Jack thought. He had desperately missed that sound all day.
"Smooth, Abbot."
Jack rubbed his hand up her back until one arm slung around her shoulders and the other pressed her bent legs tighter into his chest. He hugged her as tight as he could, rocked her back and forth in his lap, "I love you, I love you, I love you."
"I really love you. Like so much." She mumbled into his neck, placing a couple kisses there like she always did.
Jack hummed at the sensation and then laughed, "I know, baby. I love you too."
He held up the letter between two of his fingers, "Seems like you've got a way with widowed veterans."
"Only the old, disabled ones." She giggled.
He lightly pinched her thigh, "Well, now I know you're feeling better if you're making old jokes."
There was a slight knock on the door. She told him it was Dana. Dana had saw the man give her the letter and figured she would need some privacy to read it. Dana told her she'd hold the room for her as long as she could and that she would knock when time was up.
Jack lightly patted her ass to get her up. Hands not really ever leaving her body, just settling against her waist as they both stood up, facing eachother.
Jack stepped closer, hands sliding from her waist to the ends of her stethoscope at her chest.
He tugged, pulling her in as close as she could get by the ends of her stethoscope, “You know wearing your stethoscope like that is a choking hazard.”
That pulled a real smile from her. Jack's heart soared. It even reached her eyes as she rolled them at him. He wore his stethoscope the same way constantly - she had gotten the habit from him.
“You’re a choking hazard.” She mused at him.
“You could say that again, baby” His hands moved up to cradle her neck, thumbs lightly pressing on her throat as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips
She whispered against his lips grinning hard, putting her hands in his cargo pant pockets before kissing him again, “You’re such a dork.”
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
"Don't let him rub his loser off on you." Dr Ellis smacked Jack on the shoulder as she jutted her chin towards Robby. The whole crew had been giving the two older men shit for not wearing costumes to the Halloween party.
"You do realize you are in my house drinking my liquor, yes?" Robby laughed - playing along and in a much better mood than he had been earlier in the day.
They had all piled into Robby's kitchen after their shift. The locker room didn't leave much space for a costume contest so everyone was sizing eachother up now as they unpacked various food items across Robby's counter.
Jack wasn't surprised when his and everyone else's phones buzzed with a message from Shen in the Pitt groupchat. It was Shen’s turn to miss the Halloween party this year. They all took turns working it every year. He had to imagine Shen was bored at the Pitt.
His suspicisons were proven correct. There were a chorus of 'huh's' and 'what's?' as everyone was left confused by Shen's message. It was a response to the photo of her that Robby had sent this morning.
From Shen: You know impersonating a medical doctor is a felony
All she responded with was a bunch of ‘???????’
From Shen: Didn't know Abbot was on the sched today
Jack answered that he wasn’t. Shen sent a zoomed in photo of the one Robby had sent that morning. The one of her flipping him off. It was zoomed in on her badge. Or in this case, Jack’s badge.
The badge was tangled and clipped backwards against her shirt. But the way she was leaned forward tilted the badge - showing just enough of a headshot that was unmistakably Jack.
From Shen: Can't believe no one on day shift caught this all day. Y’all are a bunch of rookies. Run me my money ASAP. If I can't be at the party at least I can win the betting pool
Jack gasped. He heard her suck in a breath also. Both of them falling into nervous giggles as everyone stared back at them. He figured they weren't shocked that they were a couple. It was kind of an open secret that they had had it bad for eachother the past couple years. But he figured they were all shocked that Jack finally had the balls to do something about it.
The silence didn’t last for long before people were clapping them on the back, shouting “I knew it!”, and exchanging money.
Jack looked over at her, shrugging. A smile cracked his lips as he pointed at her from across the island where she was standing in her matching Cheetah Girls costume with Dr Ellis, "And you said I was gonna be the one to get us caught!”
Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline as she reached into her bag. She dug out the badge and lightly tossed it at Jack, feighning offense at his accusation, "This is your fault for rushing me this morning!"
Robby intercepted the badge. He clipped it on himself as he clipped his own onto Jack, "See - now we have costumes."
She crossed her arms, still adorably faking mad as she leveled at the two of them, "Impersonating a medical doctor is a felony."
"You would know." Jack winked and slid both her and Dr Ellis drinks across the island.
They both took a sip as Jack rounded the counter, slinging his arm around her shoulders as she groaned into his chest, hiding from everyone's hoots and hollers.
"Thank god. Now I can publically berate you for stealing my roommate." Dr Ellis smacked Jack lightly again, teasing. All three of them laughing as "You guys live together!?" echoed throughout the kitchen.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Everyone interrogated them for the better part of the party before families began to arrive and people started to disperse amongst Robby's first floor.
Jack's leg had been bugging him. He had been sat in one of the chairs in Robby's living room, thanking Dana for her help earlier today before she had gotten up to get herself a refill.
His face lit up at the sight of his girlfriend entering the room. He nodded at her, silently asking her to come sit with him. She didn't need to be asked twice. She sat on the arm of the chair but that wasn't close enough for Jack. He didn't have to pretend anymore. He pulled her down onto his lap - her arm wrapping around his shoulders.
They sat like that in silence for a bit. Just watching Cassie with Harrison. Princess with her new baby girl. Langdon with his two kids.
She mumbled into his ear. He could tell she was a little buzzed but definitely not drunk, "Kinda want one."
He stilled, his hand that was around her waist pausing the mindless shapes he had been tracing on her hip, "You do!?"
She chuckled breathlessly and then shrugged, "Yeah. Being a mom was the furthest thing from my mind but then...you happened. I thought maybe I didn't want kids but now I realize I just didn't want kids that weren't yours."
"I’m obsessed with you, ya know that?”
"So you don't think I am crazy for bringing that up four months in at our work Halloween party?"
Jack laughed, kissed her hard, "Oh no, you're definitely crazy," she giggled, lightly smacked his shoulder, "but fortunately for you - so am I. It's all I've been dreaming about for the past month or so. I didn't want to pressure you by telling you."
Jack froze again, speaking before she could even respond, "Wait - I have to plan a proposal first. You wanna get married, right?"
"No, I moved into your house for the ADA accommodations." She deadpanned.
"God, I want nothing more than to marry you and your smart ass mouth."
He kissed her into a fit of giggles, squirming all over his lap as his fingers ghosted up her sides, threatening to tickle. She did her best to speak through the laughter, "Is this all because of the slash trake?"
"Don't remind me of that - I'm gonna get turned on and you're already not helping." His arm that was wrapped around her waist tightened, stopping her from wiggling around in his lap.
He was already half hard at just the mere thought of her wanting to have his babies. He did not need the extra motivation while they were still in public.
"You wouldn't change your last name right?"
"Wouldn't dream of it. I don't recall you going through med school twice."
"Just wanted to make sure..." Jack's voice had a teasing lilt to it, "...you did practice all day as Dr Jack Abbot with my badge."
"You're annoying." She groaned.
Jack shrugged, placing a chaste kiss to her cheek, "We'll work on those vows."
"Are you gonna take me home and practice putting a baby in me or what?" She whispered, shifting so her ass was now fully on top of his bulge. To everyone else, they looked innocent but Jack was well aware of what she was up to.
They both knew she had an IUD. Didn’t mean Jack still didn’t choke on his sip of beer at her words.
"Can you behave?" He managed to wheeze out, squeezing her hip in warning.
"I mean...I could..." Her hand lifted from where it had been massaging the nape of his neck. Jack grabbed her wrist and placed it politely in her lap before she could tease him any further. He didn't even know where she was planning on putting that hand but he didn't want to find out until they were in private.
"I hate you." He sing-songed lowly, half hard as she began to make her way to standing.
She ran a seemingly innocent hand over his bulge in the transition - to 'steady' herself she had said. Jack hissed quietly. She giggled, sweetly kissed his cheek and then whispered, "Somehow, I am not convinced!" before running off to wherever Ellis was calling for her.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack found himself in the same position he had been in the previous morning. And every morning before that for the past couple months. A position he was oh so fortunate to be in. A position he had quite literally dreamt of.
He was halfway still asleep with her cuddled up against him. Except his dreams had been far more R-rated last night than the night prior.
His brain had fixated less on the kids and more so on how the kids were made. She was still fast asleep, he didn’t want to wake her up. He was doing his best not to get hard again but his brain couldn’t stop replaying last night.
Her breathy moans of his name - chanted for what felt like a heavenly eternity. His filthy words. She had a way of bringing that out in him.
“You’re such a tease, you know that? Would punish you if I didn’t want to fill you up so bad.”
She had dropped to her knees the second they made it through the front door last night - begging for him to fill her mouth before he filled her belly.
“So proud of you. Look at you. Taking me so well. Gonna look so pretty with my baby in your belly. Fuck these tits milky full. Just want you so. fucking. full.”
He’d enunciated his last couple words with each thrust of his hips. Every press of his lips against hers. Glued together from their foreheads down to their toes. They would crawl into eachother’s skin if they could.
“Want me to fuck a baby into you, huh? Gonna be a good girl and make me a daddy?”
She had begged him to fuck his cum back into her. He happily obliged as he pressed kisses to the corners of her teary eyes. She told him she had dreamt about this the previous night - was the reason she had woken up dripping for him.
“I’ll give it to you, baby. You know I will. Give you anything. Give you the whole fucking world - I love you.”
None of it was a lie. Or even an exaggeration. He would give her anything. She was his everything. He was too lost in thought. Hadn't realized she was awake until the sun reflected off of her phone screen, almost blinding him.
He trailed kisses up her neck, "What are you doing?"
She placed her phone back on the nightstand. Turned to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her leg over his hip, "I just made an appointment to get my IUD taken out."
"For when?" Jack's smile was so bright the sun was probably reflecting off of him now. This was really happening.
"Six months from now."
He settled a hand on her upper thigh, squeezed it. He could barely get the words out before she was kissing him senseless, "Sounds like we’ve got a wedding to plan."
Their life was a dream.
With You I Matter ۶ৎ
Steve Harrington x shy!reader 2.3k words
Fluff, Steve being readers #1 supporter, words of affirmation, insecurities,
Steve begs you to meet his friend group, and watches with quiet pride as you finally come out of your shell
Steve has mentioned casually in the past about the group he hangs out with, the times they’d ‘monster hunt’ as he puts it, which you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around. He’d stated the variety of their personalities was a little weird, most of them being young nerds with the expectation of his best friend robin and ex girlfriend Nancy.
That was another thing you couldn’t believe, how was he still friends with his previous girlfriend and her new boyfriend Jonathon? He reassured you there was nothing going on even though the relationship had ended on bad terms at first, before resolving their problems. But apparently now his friend Dustin had been nagging Steve about introducing you to the group, saying they had to meet who Steve was spending eighty percent of his time with.
You wanted to meet them, you really did. But you’ve always had a hard time with socializing around new people, and Steve had had the worst of it in the beginning. You couldn’t even look him in the eye while speaking, your fingers always twitching at your sides trying desperately not to run away and hide. Over time though, your love for Steve had blossomed into a strong connection, always staying as close as possible and telling him your every need.
And Steve loved it. He loved the way he could make his angel blush just from one small comment, and how you were attached to his hip. You attempted to turn down his offer at first, but Steve had said you were an important part of his life, and he wanted to show you off to his friends as much as possible. And you couldn’t just say no to his pleading wide eyes as his hands desperately clutching onto yours, so with a reluctant sigh and a racing heart you agreed.
On a Friday evening you started driving to the Wheeler’s house in Steve’s beamer, he promised that as soon as you got uncomfortable he’d get you out of there.
“They’re going to love you baby, I can already feel it.” Steve spoke, pulling into the Wheeler’s driveway, coming around to open your car door.
“What if they think I’m too quiet?” You asked, gripping his hand just a tiny bit harder.
“It would be a blessing to have at least one quiet person in that room, maybe then they’d learn to shut up once in a while,” he huffed. You couldn’t help but laugh behind your hand, now aware of the trouble they gave your boyfriend.
“You’re going to be great sweetheart, you always have been.” Steve said softly as you two stood in front of the door, leaning down to press a kiss to the side of your head causing you to turn a light pink shade.
He squeezed once more and turned the door knob finally entering the house, he explained prior that the kids stayed in the basement playing their annoying wizard game, dungeons and dragons. You followed Steve down the stairs and could already hear the loud shouts and groans coming from the round table they were sitting in.
Robin was off to the side debating something passionately with Nancy, while Jonathon was flipping through a stack of papers presumably for his latest photography project. You took a moment to just look around, you had that special ability to just blend in at times like a fall on the wall. But Steve had been the one to see something in you that no one else saw, he brought you out of your comfort zone which you couldn’t be more thankful for.
You spotted two teenage girls sitting on the ground, one with fiery red hair that reflected her personality and one sitting across with shoulder length brown hair and softer features. The first girl appeared to be teaching her something, talking slowly and occasionally giggling. You couldn’t help but smile at them, it looked like they had seemed to find each other in a world full of chaos.
Steve cleared his throat trying to get everyone’s attention, dragging you back to reality. The basement quieted down, everyone turning one by one to face their new audience. The kids froze, gaping at you, while the older adults had brightly smiled and Robin loudly clapped her hands together. You had met her before as she was Steve’s work partner, she was able to get along with everyone almost right away and your shyness hadn’t stopped her from doing the same to you.
“Well everyone…this is my girlfriend!” Steve beamed, telling them your name. The kids all quickly started speaking at once:
“No way!”
“Since when does Steve have a girlfriend?”
“She’s way too good for him.”
“Finally!”
Steve raised his voice trying to quiet them down before they overwhelmed you. “Ok ok that’s enough! Now I expect you to be on your best behavior or I’m never bringing her back again.” Steve said pointedly, turning back to you to gesture ‘see what I was talking about,’ rolling his eyes.
You gave them all a small smile, and was instantly ambushed by the short boy with missing teeth you could only assume was Dustin. “Hi I’m Dustin! Dustin Henderson. Woah you’re way prettier than I thought…Lucas was right, Steve’s out of your league. I’m Steve’s best friend by the way, if he hasn’t mentioned.” He ranted, pushing his hand forward to shake yours swiftly.
“Uhh…I?” You stuttered out, the sudden attention making you feel timid.
Steve stared at Dustin back looking shocked. “Excuse me? Only I get to compliment my girl.” Steve huffed tugging you closed, you laughed not believing he was beefing with a thirteen-year old boy.
Once the boys had all finished introducing themselves, Mike, Will, and Lucas as you learned, Robin and Steve’s ex girlfriend approached you. “I’m so glad to see you! I told that dingus he should’ve brought you along way sooner, but he just doesn’t listen.” Robin complained, pulling you into a hug.
You turned to face Nancy, and could see why Steve once liked her. She was pretty, not in the way you were, her features were striking with big blue eyes and permed brown hair. You resisted the urge to compare yourself to her and let your mind flood with insecurities, as Steve rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand softly his own way of quietly saying you’re enough.
However, everything left your mind the second she shook your own hand and smiled. “So nice to finally meet you, I was waiting but my patience was starting to grow thin.” She laughed. “I hope Steve is treating you well, and you’re always free to come over whenever you want — our house can never get too full,” her kind words had made you smile wide towards her.
“He is, and thank you that means so much.” You said with a sigh relieved, and Steve could only look between you proud that you had matched so well with his friends.
Before you could strike up any conversation though, your hand was suddenly pulled away in a different direction, your eyes landing on the freckled face girl from earlier. “Hey I’m Max, come we have so much to talk about.” She exclaimed, guiding you over to where she was sitting earlier.
Steve had looked appalled, Max couldn’t just drag his girlfriend like a new toy away from him without a word? He was about to walk over and scold her, feeling like he was missing something without his sweet girl by his side. But Steve stopped in his tracks when he saw how low and soft you were speaking to eleven now. He couldn’t interrupt the moment you were having, and he smiled to himself when he realized you were finally branching out of your shell.
You got to know the other teen girl, ‘El’ she pointed at herself. She looked at you curiously but there was something beneath her eyes that you could feel was very close to admiration. She reached out and touched your skirt and the ends of your hair, not realizing it was invading your personal space but you didn’t mind either way. “Pretty,” was the only thing she said, gazing up at you eyes shining.
“Thank you,” you breathed out, not used to being adored this much by other people. Max looked between you two happy that eleven had found another woman in her life to look up to.
“You really are beautiful you know, I don’t know how Steve found you but he’s one lucky man. I’m with Lucas, but if I were you I’d keep my options open,” Max said with a grin.
You couldn’t help but snort at her words, as you three fell into easy conversation. “El came from the lab, she has really cool superpowers like a modern day mutant from the x-men. She can control stuff with her mind.” Max explained, your eyes flashing with recognition. Steve had told you all about how Mike Wheeler had found Eleven one night while looking for his missing friend, Will. Your heart clenched at Elevens’s story, a maternal feeling spreading through you to keep this once neglected girl safe from any harm.
“What is a…mutant?” Eleven asked, raising her eyebrows.
Max laughed, “I’ll show you all my comic books sometime it’ll be fun.” They asked you everything about yourself, from how you and Steve met to what your hobbies were. Then they begged you to go to the mall with them one day, saying how they needed a break from the boys’ chaos once in a while. You didn’t know how much time had passed since you started laughing with these girls, eventually eleven had even demonstrated her powers to you by motionlessly raising a pillow to smack Mike square in the face while he was in the middle of talking. The boy had yelped while everyone doubled over in laughter, a drop of blood falling from El’s nose.
You tilted your head up suddenly feeling someone staring at you, your eyes connected with Steve’s and you wondered if he had been looking at you this whole time. He sent you an intimate small and mouthed the words, i-love-you. You radiated happiness and mouthed the special words back, feeling like it was just you two alone in the bustling basement.
You patted your lap getting up, missing your boyfriend too much to spend another minute apart. The girls groaned but allowed you to leave, as you went over to his side.
“I told you they’d love you.” Steve whispered.
You nodded knowing he had been right all along. “They’re all so nice I guess I just didn’t know what to expect. But I’m feeling kind of tired now, can we leave Stevie?” You mumbled, not wanting to pull him away from his friends too soon but you wanted an excuse to be alone with him once again.
He gave you a look that said he already knew what you needed. “Aw my sweet shy girl, of course we can. C’mon let’s get you home.” He turned to say goodbye, before tugging you towards the stairs.
“Well I better get going guys, I need to get my girl home.” Steve said.
“You better bring her back to us, Harrington.” Max glared at Steve with a threatening tone across the room. Steve only brought his hand up to his forehead with a mock salute. You gave a shy wave to everyone, and started walking away.
Steve led you back to his car in comfortable silence, sensing that you needed some time to process. He didn’t speak until he got you back in, and settled into the driver’s seat before turning to face you fully, a hand reaching out to rub lightly across your thigh.
“Well angel, what do you think? D’you wanna see them again? I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want, honey.” Steve questioned, with so much love and gentleness in eyes that he always had for you.
You looked up at him through your lashes. “Yeah baby. I had a really good time, it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t see them again.” You spoke with as much confidence as you could muster.
Steve exhaled shakily, your words making him wanna melt into a puddle right this second. “I’m so so proud of you, angel. Even I got jealous at how quickly they wanted to take you away from me.” Steve said between the kisses he was currently pressing in your hair, holding your face in his hands. He peppered them now across your face as you giggled trying to get away but he kept a tight grip on you. He finished with a long kiss to your lips, not wanting to break away and end this tender moment.
“I just want you to know how amazing you are, angel. I know that couldn’t have been easy seeing so many people you’ve never talked to before…and it meant so much to me. You were so brave, I could feel it in my heart just how hard you were trying for me. I don’t deserve it, they’re right, I don’t deserve you.” Steve spoke everything he had been feeling down there, looking right into your eyes the whole time. But he didn’t know how wrong he was, you couldn’t have done all of that without him. He was your physical support whenever you felt too small, too forgettable. You did it all for him, because without him, you wouldn’t have even tried.
Your eyes filled with tears, not being able to put your thoughts into words. “Steve…you deserve…everything. And you’re the one who helped me see that I do too. You’re so important to me, I can’t even put into words how much I love you, but I’m trying to show you just how you showed me that I am someone.”
Steve was the one who started crying now, not expecting to become so emotional by your heartfelt words. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead and inhaled, soaking it all in. “You matter. Never forget that, angel.”
And he wouldn’t let you forget, not as long as he was alive.
unless you wrote the character your goddamn self no characterization will be 100% perfect. FAN fiction is an authors separate interpretation of the character which they cooked up from their own head. that’s why all fics are different durrrr
ok i realized im acc parasocial asf bc im getting so jealous seeing people ship aerion with rhaenyra like no he belongs with me
me with so many characters its actually insane
ok so hear me out !
singer reader preforming at lallapalooza ( idk if i spelt it right ) and joe is just there in the crowd supporting her or her band and yeah thats basically it !
lollapalooza
joe keery x reader
val speaks - this is combination of a few requests i got for lollapalooza / singer reader so if u requested smth look out for it in here ! i also added smth for a couple reqs i got about being in the airport w joe n dealing w paparazzi n reader n joe singing to 'see u again' :)))
the airport was louder than it should have been for that early in the morning.
rolling suitcases rattled across the tile floors, voices echoed off the high ceiling, and somewhere nearby a kid was crying because their balloon had gotten stuck in one of the overhead lights.
you barely noticed any of it.
your fingers were laced through joe’s, his hand warm and steady around yours as the two of you walked through the terminal. he swung your joined hands slightly between you like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“you nervous?” he asked, glancing over at you.
you shrugged, the corner of your mouth lifting. “only a little.”
“it’s just lollapalooza,” he said casually. “no big deal.”
you laughed under your breath. “easy for you to say.”
this weekend was huge. performing at lollapalooza had been one of those distant, almost impossible dreams for years, the kind you didn’t say out loud because it sounded ridiculous.
and now you were here. about to do it.
joe squeezed your hand once, like he could feel the thoughts racing through your head.
“you’re gonna kill it” he said.
you were about to respond when the automatic doors at the front of the terminal slid open.
and immediately-
“guys!”
“over here!”
camera shutters exploded all at once.
the sudden wall of noise hit you like stepping into a storm. flashes popped from every direction and a cluster of paparazzi surged forward the second they spotted you.
“are you performing new songs this weekend?”
“joe, is there new music coming?”
“are you two staying together this weekend?”
voices layered over each other, people stepped closer, cameras lifted higher, flashes firing again and again. your grip on joe’s hand tightened without you even realising it.
you tried to keep walking, but the crowd shifted around you, narrowing the path to the curb. someone stepped in front of you, walking backwards while snapping photos, and the constant clicking made your chest feel tight.
you looked down for a second, breathing in too quickly.
joe noticed immediately.
his hand tightened around yours, and he slowed just enough to step slightly in front of you, his shoulder angling between you and the cameras.
“hey,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “guys, back up a little.”
the photographers kept firing. another flash went off right in your face.
joe stopped walking.
that got their attention.
“seriously,” he said, sharper now. he lifted his free hand slightly, palm out. “give her some space, alright?”
there was something protective in the way he stood there, just half a step in front of you.
“she just got off a flight.”
a couple of the photographers shifted back a little. not much, but enough to open a narrow path toward the waiting cars outside.
joe glanced back at you, his expression softening instantly.
“you good?” he murmured.
you nodded, even though your heart was still racing.
“yeah. just… a lot.”
“i got you” he said quietly.
he squeezed your hand again and guided you forward, keeping himself slightly between you and the cameras as you moved toward the curb.
more questions were thrown your way.
“are you excited for the festival?”
“joe, will you be watching her set?”
joe didn’t answer any of them.
the car door was already open by the time you reached it. he helped you slide inside first, ducking his head so the flashes didn’t follow you into the back seat.
the moment the door shut, the noise outside dropped to a dull blur.
you exhaled for what felt like the first time in five minutes.
joe climbed in beside you a second later, pulling the door closed behind him. the driver started the car almost immediately, easing away from the curb and leaving the crowd behind.
for a moment neither of you said anything.
then joe turned toward you, brushing his thumb gently across the back of your hand where you were still holding onto him.
“hey,” he said softly.
you looked up.
“sorry about that,” he added. “they get… intense.”
you let out a small laugh. “you think?”
he smiled a little, but his eyes were still studying your face carefully.
“you okay?”
you nodded again, this time more honestly. the quiet of the car helped, the city sliding past outside the window.
“yeah,” you said. “i’m good.”
joe leaned back in his seat, still holding your hand.
“good,” he said. “cause in about forty-eight hours you’re about to make about a hundred thousand people lose their minds.”
you bumped your shoulder into his.
“not helping my nerves.”
he grinned.
“nah,” he said. “you’ll be fine.”
“and if anyone tries to crowd you again,” he added lightly, glancing out the window, “i’ll just fight them.”
you laughed, the tension finally breaking.
“joe keery vs. the paparazzi?”
“exactly,” he said. “winner gets your lollapalooza backstage pass.”
“i think i’d still pick you” you said.
he looked back at you, smiling softer this time.
“good choice.”
-
the lights were blinding.
the second you stepped onto the stage the noise hit you like a wave. thousands of people packed into the field, screaming so loud it almost drowned out the opening chords of the song behind you.
you grinned before you even reached the microphone.
“lollapalooza!” you shouted.
the crowd roared back instantly.
from the side of the stage, joe watched the whole thing with the biggest smile on his face. he had seen you perform before, plenty of times, but this felt different. the stage lights painted the sky pink and gold as the sun started dipping lower, and the crowd stretched farther than he could even see.
and every single person out there seemed to know your songs. you started the first verse and the audience sang it back immediately.
joe laughed softly to himself, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe it.
“told you” someone from your team said beside him.
joe crossed his arms loosely, still watching you.
“yeah,” he said. “she’s insane.”
on stage you were electric, running across the platform, pointing the microphone out toward the crowd, dancing with your band like you’d been born on that stage. every time the audience screamed your lyrics back at you, your smile got bigger.
joe could barely look away.
halfway through the set, one of your stage managers tapped his shoulder.
“hey, joe?”
he glanced over. “yeah?”
“we need you down by barricade for the next song.”
he blinked. “wait- what?”
she was already grinning.
“trust me.”
before he could ask another question she was gently guiding him down the side stairs and toward the front of the crowd.
fans near the barricade noticed him immediately.
phones lifted instantly as he laughed, ducking his head a little and squeezing into the space security held open for him.
“what is happening?” he asked one of the crew members.
they just smiled.
on stage you took a sip of water and leaned toward the microphone again.
“okay,” you said, breathless but excited. “this next song is… kinda new.”
the crowd screamed.
joe’s ears perked up immediately.
you glanced out over the audience like you were searching for something. or someone. and then your eyes landed right at the barricade. joe.
your grin widened instantly.
“but before we start,” you said into the mic, tilting your head slightly, “i think i spotted someone in the audience tonight who might be committing a crime.”
the crowd buzzed with excitement.
joe’s eyebrows lifted.
“yeah,” you continued casually, pacing across the stage. “someone here is being… way too hot.”
joe realised very quickly what was happening.
he laughed, shaking his head.
“oh my god”
you crouched near the edge of the stage, looking straight at him now.
“joe keery,” you announced dramatically.
the audience absolutely lost their minds.
he pressed a hand to his chest in fake shock as people around him started cheering even louder.
“sir,” you continued, trying not to laugh. “i’m gonna have to place you under arrest.”
someone from the stage crew tossed you a pair of bright pink fuzzy handcuffs.
you twirled them once before tossing them down toward him.
the crowd erupted again as joe caught them. he looked up at you, grinning so wide it was impossible to hide.
you pointed at him from the stage “don’t go anywhere.”
“wouldn’t dream of it,” he called back, though the microphone didn’t quite pick it up.
the opening beat of juno started playing.
the second the song began the audience started screaming again, clearly they already knew it.
joe leaned against the barricade, pink cuffs dangling from his hand, completely amused as he watched you launch into the first verse. you strutted across the stage with a confidence that made him laugh under his breath. you were absolutely loving this.
the chorus hit and the crowd shouted every lyric back at you, hands in the air.
joe just stood there watching you like you were the only person in the entire field.
toward the bridge, you slowly walked back toward the front of the stage again.
joe straightened slightly without even realising it.
you knelt down near the edge, the lights glowing behind you.
“have you ever tried this one?” you sang.
then you dropped onto all fours dramatically, turning your head just enough to glance back over your shoulder. and winked.
he laughed, immediately ducking his head as his ears turned bright red.
“oh my god” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
fans next to him were losing their minds.
by the time the final chorus exploded through the speakers, the entire field was jumping and singing along. you finished the last note breathless and smiling, raising your arms as the crowd roared.
“thank you!” you laughed into the microphone.
backstage, joe made his way around the barricade again, still holding the pink cuffs.
when you came running off stage a few minutes later, sweaty and glowing from the performance, he was already there waiting.
the second you spotted him your face lit up.
“hi” you said, breathless.
joe didn’t even hesitate.
he stepped forward and pulled you straight into a hug, arms wrapping tightly around you as he lifted you slightly off the ground.
“you were unbelievable” he said into your hair.
you laughed against his shoulder.
“yeah?”
he leaned back just enough to kiss you.
“yeah,” he said. “also… you looked ridiculously hot up there.”
you smirked.
“i know.”
he held up the pink handcuffs.
“so… am i still under arrest?”
you took them from him, twirling them once.
“maybe later” you teased.
someone from your team called your name down the hall toward the dressing rooms.
the two of you started walking that way together, joe’s arm loosely around your shoulders.
inside the dressing room you collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic groan.
“i’m sweaty” you announced.
joe laughed.
“that tends to happen when you perform.”
you sat up after a moment.
“wait,” you said suddenly. “who’s on after me?”
he thought for a second.
“i think… tyler the creator? on the other stage.”
your eyes lit up.
“wait really?”
“yeah.”
you jumped up again immediately.
“i wanna go watch.”
joe blinked. “right now?”
“yeah!” you said, already heading for the door again. “festivals are fun, joe!”
he followed you out laughing.
“you just got off stage”
you grabbed his hand again as you walked down the hallway.
“exactly,” you said. “now we get to enjoy it.”
-
by the time you and joe reached the other stage, the field was already packed.
lights washed over the crowd in deep blues and purples while tyler’s set carried across the park, bass thumping through the ground under your shoes. people were dancing everywhere, arms in the air, phones recording, friends shouting over the music.
you slipped easily into the side of the crowd with joe, both of you lingering a little farther back where things were calmer. security kept a loose eye on you but didn’t hover, letting the two of you actually enjoy the moment.
joe’s hand found yours automatically again.
he leaned down slightly so you could hear him over the music. “you good?”
you nodded, looking out at the stage. “yeah. this is nice.”
he smiled a little at that.
a few fans nearby noticed the two of you after a minute or two. there were a couple surprised whispers and some quiet phone cameras lifting, but nobody pushed or crowded you.
the music shifted and the opening chords of see you again started drifting through the speakers. the crowd immediately reacted. cheering, singing the first notes before tyler even got to the verse.
you lit up the second you recognised it.
“oh my god i love this song” you said.
joe laughed softly beside you.
“i know you do.”
you turned toward him slightly as the melody carried through the air, already mouthing the lyrics.
“okay but you have to sing it with me” you said.
“do i?”
“yes.”
the chorus started building and joe finally gave in, rolling his eyes with a smile as he joined you. his arms slid around you from behind without much thought, resting loosely around your waist while you leaned back into him. the two of you swayed a little with the crowd, singing along under your breath.
for a moment it felt like the festival disappeared.
the lights were still flashing across the crowd, the music was still blasting through massive speakers, thousands of people still packed shoulder to shoulder around you.
but your focus was just him.
joe looked down at you when you turned your head slightly, still singing along with the chorus. he smiled without even realising it.
you noticed immediately.
“what?” you asked, laughing quietly.
“nothing,” he said. “just… proud of you.”
you nudged him gently with your elbow.
“that was hours ago.”
“still counts.”
a few feet away, someone had their phone up recording the stage and the camera happened to catch the two of you in the corner of the frame.
the two of you smiling like you were completely unaware anyone was watching.
another line of the song floated through the crowd and you tilted your head back toward him, singing it dramatically. joe laughed under his breath, shaking his head but finishing the lyric with you anyway.
—————-
@prettyfortucker @harringtondarling @katsallthetime @thichnhathanhh @keepdrlving @beth-mirrorball @powerpuffedbjtch @itzeeeee @ddenniiee-729@teheblue @frozenpeanutbutterr @coldalpsmcu@b0nzey @xceafh @hearts4steve @swirledyouintoallmypoems @saintlaurentdiva @joekeerylice @blurrygir1@songkangslvr @keerymylove @foreverserving @cciessuzi @livingblythedoli @toopypoopy @ellieluvercentral@evies4ngels @lattewirl@wolfiee10 @maevebloom @drunkedniallh @girlwithkaleidoscopeeyes777 @mabsters @i-got-the-cinema @bluehexagon8 @magnificentcitadelcrest@pleasecallmeunhinged @purplequeen64-stuff @1011008
need this SOOOOOOOO FKN BAD BRO
THE FIVE STAGES; dr jack abbot x dr!reader
words: 13.3k
content warnings: 18+!!!! Gets quite smutty, fluffy, jack abbot invented YEARNING, age gap!!!, no use of Y/N
notes: i know this one sounds kinda depressing but i promise its fun and funny and flirty and it’s my favorite one ive ever written!! also debating on making an ao3 account - should i?
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack Abbot was unfortunately intimately familiar with the 5 Stages of Grief. Depression, Bargaining, Denial, Anger, Acceptance.
He grieved his leg at the ripe age of 31 - courtesy of an IED in the desert of Afghanistan.
He began grieving his late wife the following year at 32 - courtesy of an arrogant, misogynistic emergency medicine resident.
At 33, he grieved the life he thought he was going to have while he started a new one. No longer a husband, but a widow. No longer an army medic, but an Emergency Room attending at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.
Sometimes when he would come back to the empty home he bought at 34, the ghosts of that life were louder than any silence he thought he could drown out with the police scanner.
Jack Abbot knew the 5 Stages of Grief like the back of his hand.
In hindsight, he didn’t know how he didn't realize the 5 stages in which he fell in love with her were quite similar. A mirror of his grief refracted through a lens of unconditional love.
depression
If someone would have asked Jack at the time, he wouldn't have admitted he was depressed. He truly didn't think he was.
He didn't need therapy to deal with his trauma. His wife passed away a decade ago. His leg, or lack thereof, the constant reminder of the time he gave up while he had her on this earth - was physically healed. As much as it was going to be anyways. So therefore he was mentally healed. As much as he thought he was going to ever be anyways.
He'd been running on autopilot. It carried him from but mostly to the emergency room at PTMC. It's what made him stop at the unfamiliar sight of Gloria in his ED. This was why he didn't work the day shift. He never wanted to deal with all of the bureaucratic administrative bullshit. The only business Jack Abbot was ever interested in was the one of saving lives. Gloria hadn't even opened her mouth and Jack already knew that Robby was going to owe him one.
"Dr Abbot! Wonderful timing. I have a residency interview waiting in Robby's office for you."
Now Robby really owed him one. "Doesn't Robby usually..." Jack scratched at the back of his neck, still confused as to why Gloria had involved herself, and now him, in a residency interview, "...facilitate those?"
Gloria gave a curt nod before glancing around them, as if checking to make sure they would not be overheard. She lowered her voice as she spoke, "Yes but I specifically scheduled this one when I knew you were covering. She is the best candidate we have ever had and probably ever will. I cannot risk Robby running her off."
Right. The Adamson of it all. There was a joke in there somewhere about Jack being considered the stable one in the ED. He guessed he must be. He had become fairly good at presenting an even keeled, calm front. He still had kind of felt like a mess in every other area of his life but the ED was the one place he was the furthest from one. It's where he solved the mess instead of becoming it.
She shoved a printed resume into Jack's hands before she was off. Back up to her ivory tower. He took a look as he strode over to Robby's office. Full ride to Stanford for both her undergraduate and medical degree.
For once, he agreed with Gloria. What the hell did this candidate want to do with PTMC?
He asked her as much as he sat across the desk from her, brow furrowed in genuine curiosity. Residency interviews usually went one of two ways. The candidate was either far too cocky or so nervous they barely got a complete sentence out.
She struck the balance. She was confident. More so than some of his residents who had been out on the floor that day. She wore a dark gray wool sweater and maxi skirt set. The monochrome was only cut by the deep maroon of her belt, tights, heels, and purse. Her long hair was slicked back into a simple pony tail and her makeup was minimal, if any.
It wasn't the typical look of a medical student on a residency interview. Still completely appropriate, but far less stuffy and much more self assured.
Jack wouldn't know good style if it had slapped him in the face but he did know what hers revealed to him about herself. It was the kind of style that someone who knew who they were had. Who had spent time getting to know what they liked. Whether it was what they were reading, listening to, watching, or doing. Her style wasn’t an afterthought but she carried it with a quiet confidence that let everyone know she was not overcompensating for anything either.
It was a demeanor and style that was derivative of having a life outside of medicine - which was quite uncommon for medical students and residents alike. It was completely foreign to Jack. It intrigued him. She intrigued him.
Her body language was relaxed but respectful. One leg crossed over the other as she leaned back into the wooden chair that was probably older than she was, hands clasped in her lap. Jack doubted her heart rate had reached over 65 the whole time she had been in there.
She took a beat to answer his question which also intrigued Jack. She was not rushing to answer just to fill space. She seemed to be comfortable with the time silence gave her to craft intentional responses. Why PTMC?
A ghost of a smile that looked like it might be haunted by one appeared on her face, "My family is here."
"That's it?"
"Do you want the practiced professional answer that every other interviewer has gotten or do you want the real one?"
Jack bit back a grin at her bluntness. Ignored the stirring in his stomach that made him feel special that she may share something about herself with him that she hadn't with anyone else. He tells himself to Get. A. Grip.
"I am sure the absolute best residencies in the country are foaming at the mouth to land you and you want to come here because of your family? Give me the real reason." He let his smirk slip through as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, "I'm a captive audience after all."
The airy laugh that he got out of her almost knocked him out of his seat. What was wrong with him? He had a feeling she didn't just hand out a laugh as ethereal as that one. That she was not the kind of woman who just giggled because it was the part of the conversation where she'd been socialized to appease the man speaking that he was funny. She seemed far too smart for that. For probably everyone in the building. For him, especially.
"I have already been away in California for eight years. I could have fifty years left with my dad and my brothers and my sister in laws and my nieces and nephews or they could be gone next week," she uncrossed and recrossed her legs before continuing. Didn't rush before speaking again, "I don't want to build an unguaranteed future alone and then have no one to share it with when I get there. I wanna spend time with them now."
Jack's adam's apple bobbed in his throat. His eyes burned as he fought to hold back tears. It must have been some kind of cruel joke that right then his phantom limb pain wanted to shoot up through his thigh. Like a reminder of the time he spent wasting while he had his wife alive.
He had joined the army to become a doctor debt free. Then he had spent all of their marriage overseas, saving money for a life they never even got to spend together. He had borrowed time from the future that didn't even exist. And all he had to show for it was ironically - more money - monthly life insurance, disability, and veteran affairs checks. Oh and one and a half legs.
He blinked rapidly. He was not about to cry at work. Nevertheless while he was conducting a residency interview. He diverted the conversation away from himself, "You didn't mention your mom."
"She died. When I was a teenager, about ten years ago. After coming here actually," She coughed out a dry laugh that sounded like she dragged it up through her throat, kicking and screaming. Awfully different to the one Jack had floated out of her moments prior, "She was pregnant and they sent her away without so much as a full consultation. Just chalked her symptoms up to pregnancy and she died from an aortic dissection later that night."
Jack wanted to vomit at the almost exact recountance of how his wife had died. He was so focused on not emptying his breakfast onto Robby's desk that a tear slipped - the first in probably years.
"Oh, Dr Abbot. I didn't mean to make you emotional. I can go back to the professional answer any time you want." Another scoffed laugh, her eyes full of compassion but no tears, "Trust me - it's probably easier for both of us."
Jack really never talked about his late wife anymore. He liked to tell himself he was healed. He most definitely didn't talk about it at work. But he found himself wanting to then - with her, "No it's just - my late wife - she died the same way, about a decade ago. I was away on a stupid bachelor party trip and she didn't want to worry me so she didn't call me about it and then she, uh, never called again."
"Jesus - I am so sorry, Dr Abbot."
He noticed, appreciated, the way her head didn't tip and her eye contact didn't waver. She was not expressing her condolences out of pity or not understanding but of exactly the opposite. She knew exactly how he felt. He ignored the way his heart jumped out of his chest at the thought.
God, Robby really owed him one.
"Thank you - I am sorry about your mom. I am just impressed you still wanna work here. I could never work in the hospital that did that to my wife. The couple years after she passed - I could barely work here."
"Well, the other option was becoming one of those weirdos who swears off doctors and hospitals and science."
Jack tilted his chin at her in consideration, rubbed at the scruff there, and let out a sputtering laugh, "Are you sure that is the only other option?"
He pulled another light chuckle from her and he exhaled. Truly exhaled. For the first time in maybe ten years - like he had been underwater for so long he had forgotten what fresh air felt like.
"This is my way of letting her live on through me. To do something about what happened to her rather than using it as an excuse to sulk through life. I wanna see life as something that comes from me and not at me."
She picked at the lining of her purse that was perched in her lap. The first sign of potentially any nerves. The first time he realized that he was getting the true her. Not the front she must put up for interviews. It didn't seem much different - just a little more vulnerable.
Jack could talk. So much so he had a reputation for it in the ED. He was no stranger to being on the receiving end of a 'God do you ever shutup?' so he was a bit stunned that she had managed to shock him into silence.
He hugged his crossed arms closer to his chest as if that was even possible and just stared.
She cracked a smile, back to what was seemingly her calm and confident self, "Too esoteric for a residency interview?"
"Oh no. Not at all. I just..." Jack couldn't seem to find the right words to tell her that she had just reframed his entire outlook on his life and his grief in one sentence so he settled on, "...I uh never really thought of it that way."
"Me neither. But I have an excellent therapist."
"I will have you know, if you choose to do your residency here, I do not make it a habit of trauma dumping on my residents like I did on you today."
"I think I started that, Dr Abbot. But since I made you cry - does that mean I am in?"
That earned a genuine cackle out of Jack. A cackle. A kind of sound he wasn't even sure he was capable of making anymore but the bright, beaming smile she reciprocated made him want to do it for the rest of his life.
Maybe he owed Robby one.
Jack tried not to think about her as he got the old laptop down from his hallway closet later that night. He may never even see her again. He ignored the fact that that thought made him sick to his stomach.
Tried not to think about how Gloria had never ever personally been the residency candidate welcome committee until today while he googled 'Veteran, disabled, widower therapists near me'.
He tried not to think about how she looked the best anyone has ever looked in that emergency department as he murmured to himself, "God, that's a depressing search."
He tried not to think about how she had the most beautifully intriguing brain of anyone who had ever stepped foot into that hospital, potentially his entire life, as he booked his very first therapy appointment.
bargaining
"Remember when you told me you didn't make it a habit of trauma dumping on your residents?"
Jack didn't even have to look at her to know there was a huge smirk plastered on her face. She had been his resident for a little over a year. Although, it had taken much less time for the ribbing to start.
"Telling you about how Shen won't stop calling me 'Unc'," Jack had put air quotes around the Gen Z slang term as he continued, "is not trauma dumping."
"You seem pretty traumatized by it. You've only brought it up 85 times this shift."
"And to think - I was gonna ask you to a research breakfast after this." Jack nudged his shoulder gently with hers, tried his best to stave off the grin that played on his lips.
"And to think! You're going to anyway, old man." She nudged him right back, a little less gentle causing him to turn his shoulders and gaze towards her, feigning shock and offense.
That got the exact reaction he was fishing for - a big bright smile, loud laugh, and a second or so more of eye contact that he wouldn't have had a reason to justify otherwise.
What can he say? When it came to her - he was greedy.
"You two! I would prefer to get the hand off completed before you're both back on shift tonight. I swear you're like young and dumb medical students after shift sometimes." Dana chastised them but not without a hint of a smile.
Dana had known Jack for over ten years at this point. Seen him in a lot of different moods; but never as happy as this.
"Well, I'm young." She emphasized the 'I' with a smirk and pointed the finger that she had aimed at herself over at Jack, "He is just being dumb."
Jack barked a laugh. A sound that was no longer so foreign to him. No longer so foreign to everyone else in the ED.
He didn't miss the knowing glance Dana shot his way, a grin fighting to appear on both of their faces. He did his best to give Dana a look that said that he wasn't hopelessly infatuated with his resident. That he enjoyed spending time with each of his residents equally. He was not entirely sure he convinced Dana. He wasn't even good at convincing himself.
He could take her to breakfast if it was to help her with her research. It was most definitely not to see how many times he could pull a laugh from her. Bonus points if he got a nose scrunch or an accidental spit take of the orange juice that was already half way down her throat.
He could bring her a coffee every shift if it was to ensure his best resident was energized for her shift. It was not because of the way she looked up at him with her bright, big eyes through her lashes and said "Thank you, Dr Abbot!" like it was some sort of melody. If he started buying coffee for Dr Ellis and Dr Shen as well to make his affection less obvious - what was the difference?
He could let her do a pericardiocentesis way before anyone else her year probably should have if it was to improve her education. And because she truly was ready. He'd have bet his entire career that she was better at it than all of the surgical residents upstairs. Which meant it wasn't so totally obvious that he was staring at her in awe all of the time. Because when she was doing shit like that - everyone was. Being able to guide her hands through a procedure was just a bonus. Even if there were latex gloves between them.
He could bring extra food to shift, knowing she was going to eat half of it, if it was because he wanted to ensure his best resident was properly fueled and empowered to do her job to the best of her ability. He kept it to himself that he drove to a grocery store thirty minutes out of his way to get the specific kind of candy he knew she liked.
He could drive her home if it was to ensure his smartest resident got home safe. It was totally not because he got to spend more time with her. He definitely didn't take the long way to her apartment and he went exactly the speed limit because that was what was safe. Not because it meant extra time with her. No one else needed to know that he went at least fifteen over when she wasn't in his passenger seat.
No one also needed to know that he bought an aux cord just for her because he loved to hear what kinds of songs she liked. He definitely didn't have a playlist compiled of them all that he listened to at home now instead of his police scanner.
denial
She had been his resident for a bit over two years now and the ED was Q word tonight. No one had said it but the combined time they had all spent fucking around at the hub proved it.
Shen was on his fifth tiktok trend of the night. He thought he was being inconspicuous about the amount of time he had been spending with Javadi but his new found interest in the social media app gave him away. Jack couldn't really say anything to his new junior attending about the dangers of falling for someone that you were the superior to without blowing up his own soft spot for a certain resident.
So Shen was on his fifth tiktok trend of the night and he had roped her in.
Jack thought he knew all of her secret talents by now but he watched from behind her, amused and hands tugging at his stethoscope looped behind his neck, as Shen played various Britney Spears songs to see how quickly she could guess them.
She hadn't needed more than 3 seconds for any of them.
Then they were busy for an hour or so. A couple drunk twenty somethings with some concussions and laceration repairs - nothing too crazy. And then they were back at central. The quiet was interrupted by a gasp from Dr Shen. Which was quickly followed by Dr Ellis looking over his shoulder at his phone and then both of them dying laughing.
"I don't even want to know." Jack threw his hands up in surrender.
"Oh, yes you do! You're going viral for being hot!" Shen exclaimed.
"I don't know what viral means if it’s not to do with an infection and I already know that I’m hot thank you very much." Jack didn't even glance up from his charting as he spoke.
“For being hot and being hopelessly in love.” Ellis clarified.
That got Jack's attention. He got up, snatched Shen's phone out of his hand as he muttered, “I am not hopelessly -" he didn't even want to give the accusation a real denial to validate it, "-let me see that.” He pressed play.
It was ironic that he had been telling himself he needed to start schooling his expressions when it came to her when the same dopey smile and enamored eyes he had going in the video were on his face as he watched the video.
He knew Shen and Ellis were monitoring his reaction closely but he couldn't help but let out a laugh at the part of the video where he had guessed the song 'Lucky' before she had.
She had whipped around in the spinning chair so fast - her hair had stuck to her glossed lips, "How the hell do you know that?!" she asked surprised, a wide smile taking over her face.
Jack shuffled around in his wide stance, large hands going from the ends of his stethoscope to clasped behind his back, his chin tilted up at her as he spoke with a drawl, "I let you play your music when I drive you home, don’t I?”
In the moment, Jack had missed what was caught on camera - the knowing smirk Dr Ellis had leveled at Dr Shen off camera as she said, “Oh, I’m sure you do.”
Jack's rebuttal hadn't even had a chance to leave his mouth before Shen and Ellis were reading the comments aloud, taking turns as they went.
"WHOOOO DAT IN THE BACK!?"
"Paging Doctor biceps in the back"
"Close enough. Welcome back Lexie grey and mark sloan"
"What in the greys anatomy"
"Do the two doctor sexys know that age gap august is upon us"
"If she doesn’t wanna bite on his biceps I will"
"Does that girl know she has 30mins to claim that man before I do"
"He does not play about her!"
"A man who YEARNS is a man who EARNS"
"Dr sexy is down bad for the other doctor sexy"
"Where is this emergency room at … for research purposes"
"I want Doctor sexy to look at me like that"
"Okay, I don’t look at her like anything!" Jack hissed low in a whisper, hoping to a god he did not believe in that she was still busy with the drunk college kids and was not hearing any of this.
"Well, you definitely don’t look at me like that." Shen laughed, sucking on his Dunkin straw even though nothing had been left in his cup for hours.
"I look at you all the same." Jack deadpanned. He sat back down at his computer. An attempt to get back to charting. But not before taking a sweep of the ED and making sure she was nowhere within earshot. Not that Shen and Ellis were making it easy with their hysterics.
"Bro - if you looked at me like that I would call HR. She's just into it."
“Into what?" She asked monotonically, not even looking up from her iPad as she approached the rest of the night shift crew at the hub.
“Nothing!” Jack barely got out, grumbling and exasperatedly running a hand through his silver curls as he got up from his computer and went to chairs.
He didn't miss the raise in her brows as she looked at Shen and Ellis, silently asking 'What the hell is up with him?'.
He couldn't tell you the last time he voluntarily went out to chairs but he was hoping his fair Irish skin would be finished betraying him with the pinkness in his cheeks, ears, and neck by the time he made his way back to central.
He knew it was only a matter of time before Shen and Ellis showed her the video and he did not want to be there when they did.
So he missed the flush in her cheeks, ears, and neck that had been identical to his.
And her slightly embarrassed, definitely exaggerated, "You guys stop - he is literally our boss."
"But you're not not into it?" Ellis had pushed. If anyone was getting it out of her, it was Ellis. They had been attached at the hip since their residency began.
"It doesn't matter if I'm into it. He is our boss! He is not into it."
"God, for someone so smart you are so stupid sometimes."
Jack had waved Shen off when Shen had come out to chairs to tell him about that interaction, practically vibrating with excitement. Or maybe that was the caffeine. Jack had parroted her, tried to make a joke of it all. Said something along the lines of, "I know you guys like to pretend otherwise but I am your boss."
But once Jack was home, black out shades drawn and snug in his bed, he couldn't wipe the huge, stupid grin off of his face.
anger
Jack was not an angry man. Never had been. Very few things on this earth made him genuinely angry - one of them being the annual hospital gala. Every year they were trotted out as show ponies to raise money that the ED would never even see. You can't save patients with empty compliments and an open bar.
He had managed to avoid it the past couple years - always worked instead. So when he saw he wasn't scheduled to work the night of this year's gala, he printed out the schedule and marched right over to Robby's workstation to rectify what was surely a mistake.
"Why am I not scheduled to work tomorrow? I didn't even check the schedule until now because I just assumed that my friend would do me a solid because he owes me one-"
"Because you have to go to the gala, man." Robby interrupted Jack's rambling.
"What part of 'you owe me one' did you not understand?"
"Did you happen to see who else is not scheduled?"
Neither of them had to say anything for them both to know who's name Jack was scanning that piece of paper for.
Robby clapped him on the back, satisfied with a smile on his face as he walked away, "Go home and rest, Romeo. You got a big date tomorrow night - you’re welcome!"
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
So again, Jack was not an angry man. Never had been. But he had decided to add a new line item to the short list of things that made his blood absolutely boil. The thing being every single young, conventionally attractive, rich, tall surgeon working in his hospital hitting on his resident at this stupid fucking gala.
They hadn't even made it to dinner yet and he was sure she'd been approached over ten times. Jack had to step away after the most recent one - under the guise of getting a drink.
Jack unfortunately was very familiar with this particular suitor of hers. She was well into her last year of her residency and it had not been an uncommon occurrence for Dr Harvard from cardio thoracic surgery to make any and every excuse to come down and consult when she was on shift.
Jack made a conscious effort to forget his name. Shen and Ellis loved to remind him of it.
They'd tease him about it. They'd say that there was a plus side to it all. They never had to wait long on a cardiac surgery consultation anymore. But selfishly, Jack would wait fucking years if it meant he was chatting her ear off instead of Mr Harvard.
Jack wasn't naive. She was practically glowing. She always was. She always looked beautiful. Before tonight, he basically only ever saw her with no makeup on, hair a mess, wearing hospital issued scrubs and he still thought she was the most gorgeous person alive.
But tonight. Tonight, Jack was surprised he did not end up as a patient in his ED the first moment he had laid eyes on her. Her hair was carefully curled, framing her perfect face that was painted with just the right amount of makeup. Her lashes were more prominent than usual, her cheeks more flushed and her lips a bit more pink and a lot more glossy.
And then her dress. That damn dress. It was vintage because of course it was. Of course, she found time to vintage shop on top of the grueling hours she put in at the ED. Even in her last year of residency, she had never lost sight of being her own person both in and outside of work.
The dress reminded Jack of something from the prohibition era - celebratory. He was trying not to be so obvious in his celebration of how the structured seams of the powder blue silk created a corset shape that wasn't too tight for a work function but definitely was tight enough to have his imagination wandering.
With delicate lace panels towards the bottom of her dress and the swooping off the shoulder neckline with draped cap sleeves - Jack was being a sap but she looked like she had stepped out of a romance movie. Or off of a runway.
It was the kind of dress that reminded him of when they first met. He loved getting glimpses of her like this. Of who she was outside of the ED.
She had said she found the dress at a second hand shop on consignment. After that he had spent most of their evening dreaming about what it would be like to hold her hand and watch her shop.
Get to see the process of how she selected what she liked. Get to bring her hand up to his lips and kiss it - knowing that he was one of those things that she liked. Maybe even loved. And of course, buy everything her gaze lingered on even when she insisted not to. Especially then.
So Jack was not naive. He knew she was absolutely, positively stunning. He knew even beyond that - she was kind and funny and fucking whip smart. Smarter than anyone he had ever met and in so many different ways. If he could move into her brain - he would. So he was not naive enough to think other men wouldn't flirt with her. They would be fools not to. He just wished he could be the reason they wouldn't.
He sipped his old fashioned and did his best to pretend like he was looking anywhere but at her and Mr Harvard. He can't imagine that he was very successful. A ding from his phone took him out of his misery.
From Shen: Yo - i know you hate that gala shit. Kinda bogus robby made you go. Thought you guys were friends. Anyway, can you come help? Ellis has got a hot date. Or so she says
Jack had never been more thankful to receive a weird text from Shen in his life. He replied with a quick 'On my way' before taking one last glance over at her.
He sighed at the sight of her digging through her purse for something. He couldn’t see her expression but he sure could see Mr Harvard's. Dude couldn’t wipe the grin off of his face. Jack wished he could do it for him.
Okay chill, he reminded himself. As much as he wanted to, he figured it would be rude to interrupt her to say goodbye. She probably didn’t want her old attending cock blocking her anyways.
Jack set his half finished drink on the bar counter along with a $20 tip and turned on his good heel. He had his hands on the cold metal of the event venue's door when he heard his favorite voice behind him.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Jack turned to see her and the sight made him melt. Arms crossed over her chest, brow furrowed, and lips in a stern line that was slowly slipping into a pout.
"Shen and Ellis need a cover."
"And when were you planning on telling me?" Her hands moved to her hips. Jack's hands flexed at his sides. All he wanted to do was kiss the sass out of her. But he couldn't. She was still his resident. And probably not even interested in him.
"You seemed busy. We haven’t even eaten dinner yet." Jack's response earned an eye roll out of her.
Before he could even blink, her arm threaded under his own - grabbing his bicep, "I'm coming with you."
Who was Jack to argue with that?
"How'd you get out of your conversation with Mr Harvard?"
Another dramatic eye roll. He loved it. Then the prettiest little smile he had ever seen.
"Told him my mean, scary boss said we had to leave."
He couldn't decide his opinion regarding the short walk to his SUV in handicapped parking. One part of him was thankful. He wouldn't be shocked if he had burnt holes in his suit jacket from the way his skin had heated up under her feather light touch. The blush was sure to creep up into his cheeks any moment now.
On the other hand, he could walk for miles if it meant she was touching him the whole way. She stopped at his passenger car door and turned to look at him.
"Mean, scary boss huh?" was all Jack could get out while he was under her gaze. It sounded like he had dragged his words through gravel on their way out. But with the way her eyes still shone in the moonlight and the fact that they were solely trained on his own - he was lucky he managed to get any words out at all.
"The scariest." she winked. She fucking winked. Jack had never been more thankful that he had metal for a leg because if he didn't - his legs were sure to have wobbled out from beneath him right then.
His hands were stuffed into his slack pockets. He didn't trust himself for them to be anywhere else. Her hands had given him a moment of reprieve. No longer lightly squeezing his bicep. But now they trailed up his chest, stopping to pretend to fix his tie even though Jack knew it was perfect. Military habit. Didn't matter - she could do whatever the hell she wanted if it involved touching him.
His breath hitched at her touch. He hoped she didn't notice.
"He cleans up nice though - makes up for all the mean and scary."
"Did your mean, scary boss mention you look beautiful tonight." Jack kept his hands in his pockets but took an experimental step forward. Was this really happening? Was she really hitting on him?
It was almost as if she had heard his inner monologue. Wanted to make her intentions clear as she looped her arms around Jack's neck and absentmindedly threaded her fingers through the curls at the nape there.
Ever since she had started fiddling with his suit, her eyes had dropped to anywhere but his face. Typical Jack would have dipped his head, forced eye contact but Jack right now was just trying to stand up right.
Her gaze snapped to him and this time he hadn't even tried to hide the palpitation in his heart or his breathing, "No." was all she said. Barely a whisper but Jack heard her loud and clear.
His hands immediately fell to her hips. He filed away the way she seemed to sink into his grip. Exhaled a little. Like it was muscle memory from a past life.
Her fingers circled their way higher up onto his head, fully tugging on his curls and lightly scratching at his scalp. Jack had to bite back a groan as he squeezed at her hips and pressed her fully back onto his unopened car door.
"Jack." She murmured out low somewhere between a moan and an airy breath, head tilted back in pleasure at the pressure of his fingers on her hips. Jack was fucked now that he knew what his name sounded like falling off her lips without inhibition.
The expanse of her neck now available to him was like a siren song. The past four years had felt like a siren song and he couldn't help himself any longer. One of his hands found the back of her head, gently cradling it back up for her to look at him. His other hand rubbed at her jaw in sweeping strokes of his thumb.
Neither of them could rip their gaze from the others' lips - their panting chests just a mere centimeter apart. He was finally going to do it. He was finally going to kiss her.
Until he wasn't.
Until a loud bang of the door opening broke them apart. A slew of hospital administrators spilled out behind it looking for their next smoke break. Had Jack mentioned that he fucking hated the annual hospital gala?
They flew off each other at what would have been a rather impressive speed if it hadn't felt so agonizing. What was Jack thinking? That he could make out with his resident against his car like they were a horny teenage couple while all of the people in the building a few feet away from them could have her fired for it in a heartbeat? He had to be better. At least until her residency was over with.
He had to get it together - for the both of them it seemed like. Jack cleared his throat and ran a hand over his stubble to hide the smile threatening to take over his face at the realization that she had wanted to kiss him. The way she had said his name with so much...want. Need, even. Maybe this thing wasn't so one sided after all.
He got out of his own head just in time to stop her closing of the passenger door. He wrapped his hand around the top of the door, held it open and waited for her to look up at him after she had buckled up. But the buckle clicked and her gaze stayed trained on her lap.
"Hey." He whispered softly. They both knew the eye contact he was seeking. She slowly turned her head in his direction, gazing up at where he was standing in front of her.
"You look absolutely breathtaking. You always do."
She sucked in a breath and then there she was - big bright smile, shoulders no longer slumped, no more fiddling with her purse strings just to avoid the space between them. She was back to herself.
"Just for that I'll order pizza to the hospital." His favorite.
"Thank you." He probably should have shut the door by now. Should have probably already been on their way to the hospital. But he couldn't stop fucking staring at her. What's new?
"Don't thank me. I still have your card in my DoorDash account." She giggled and all Jack could get out was good before he shut her door.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
They ate their pizza in their gown and tux at the hub with Ellis and Shen.
Ellis raised the polaroid camera that Dana kept at the hub desk and signaled for them to get together for a photo. Jack hooked two fingers under her rolling stool and tugged her over into his side.
"Woah! Old man still has moves!"
Jack ignored Shen as he wrapped his arm over her collarbone from behind her, pulling her closer. Her head instinctively leaned toward his and her fingers delicately held his wrist as they smiled for Ellis's camera.
Jack didn't miss the look Ellis had given her. Maybe he was delusional or maybe she had gotten her best friend Ellis's advice on making a move on her attending at the gala and now Ellis was checking in on the results.
Jack also didn't miss the way her cheeks heated up and the subtle shake of her head at Ellis. As if to signal that they would talk about it later. Probably, when Jack was out of earshot.
Shen tried to get them to pose like they were going to prom. When they both refused citing unprofessionalism, Shen threw a bit of a hissy fit. Mumbling something along the lines of "Oh, now we are being professional!"
Ellis settled on writing ‘Gala Girlies' as the caption for their polaroid before taping it onto the hub counter with the rest of the pictures that had accumulated over the years. This one was definitely Jack's new favorite.
He knew exactly what Robby was going to say when he saw it tomorrow morning, “You owe me one, brother."
He was so fucked.
acceptance
Jack was bored. He never thought he'd say that but this hospital without her was straight up boring with a capital B. He worked here without her for ten years and now - the ten days of PTO she had taken before her first day as a junior attending - felt like the longest of his life. And he was only on day 6.
He wasn't even supposed to be there right now. He had come in after a Tactical EMS job gone bad. His buddy had already gone up to surgery. Before Jack could leave, Robby had roped Jack into joining him on the new day shift attending, Dr Al-Hashimi's, welcome tour.
He was waiting on a text from her. She was spending the day with her family and then she and Jack were supposed to go watch the fireworks together - alone. It was the Fourth of July after all. He had it all planned. He had practiced how he was going to profess his feelings to her in the mirror like a dork more times than he cared to admit. He had long accepted that he was in love with his resident. Now his colleague. He could work with that.
He checked his phone again. No luck. He ignored Robby's inquisitive glance. Jack had never been so interested in his phone like he had been today.
They stood at the hub as Robby droned on and on about day shift procedures that Jack was so thankful not to have to know too much about. Jack just admired the polaroids on the desk in front of them. He was still plotting a way to inconspicuously steal the one of him and her from the gala for his wallet but it had become a fan favorite in the past few months.
Dr Al-Hashimi directed her next question to Jack, pulling him out of his thoughts. She held up his second favorite polaroid with a raised brow, "Am I going to have the pleasure of meeting..." Dr Al-Hashimi squinted to read the writing below the picture, "...Abbot's Angels?"
Jack couldn't help but laugh. The photo had been taken over a year ago. Shen had begged him to take it. Handed the camera over to Jack as he maneuvered himself between the two girls. Both her and Ellis's backs to Shen. All three of them holding up finger guns to their lips with faux serious expressions.
As if her ears were ringing, Dr Ellis appeared behind Jack at the hub. Clapping him on the shoulder and extending a hand out to greet Dr Al-Hashimi, "Don't bring it up to him. He is going through withdrawals because his favorite is still out on PTO."
"Parker - I do not have favorites. You guys aren't even my residents anymore." Jack muttered in defense as he checked his phone again.
Dr Al-Hashimi clocked him, "Dr Abbot - I am good to go here and I am sure I will be seeing you. You should go. It's your day off and a holiday. I am sure you have plans."
"Yeah, what are your plans, Dr Abbot?" Ellis teased. She must have known her best friend's plans were with him for the night. Ellis was enjoying herself. Jack shot her a glare.
"I think his plans just showed up!" Robby clapped his hands together, sputtered out a laugh at the coincidence.
"Brother - I am not taking another case! I am leav-" Jack looked up from unscrewing his water bottle to follow Robby's gaze.
He spotted her mid sip and he genuinely choked on his water in a way he thought only happened in cartoons. He was ready to send Ellis out to chairs when she patted his back like she was burping a baby and suggested that there was a cooling room in North 5 if he needed it.
She was simply glowing. Wavy hair, bright eyes, sun kissed skin donning a short jean skirt and a white halter tank top that accentuated the tan lines over her collarbones left by her bikini.
"Well if it isn’t the prodigal princess of the pitt herself!" Robby goaded, grabbing a clip board and rounding the hub.
The man she was pushing in the wheelchair piped up at that, "You guys actually call her that? Seriously? I thought she was making that up. Please stop - her ego is big enough as it is."
"What do you got?" Robby asked. Jack was still staring. Who the fuck was this guy?
"Idiot male. 37 years old. Broke his ankle trying to relive his glory days coaching youth soccer practice," She was leaned over, pushing the wheelchair with all her might, "and could stand to lose a few pounds."
That pulls an almost relieved huff from Jack. Whoever this guy was - she must've not been that fond of him.
"Hey -" the man reached behind him and tugged on her hair "-my arms still work!"
Oh hell no, Jack thought. Ellis must have noticed he was about to step in and she stopped him before he could, "At ease, soldier. That is her brother."
"Well your brain clearly doesn't" she whacked him right upside the head.
Her brother imitated her, high pitched while she made a show of dramatically handing over his wheelchair to Robby so he could take him away for X-rays.
She thanked Robby as she made her way over to the hub, introducing herself to Dr Al-Hashimi and grabbing the bag of candy that Jack was offering out to her.
She looked him up and down and nodded her head at his camouflage pants, "Really? What is with the GI Jack get up? I thought you were gonna get a hobby.”
"And I thought you said you were gonna stop stealing my food."
"And I thought you said you were gonna stop buying t-shirts one size too small."
"From Walmart." Dr Ellis added.
"You guys, I told you - I do not shop at Walmart."
She giggled and gently nudged her shoulder into Ellis's, "Oh yeah Parker, how could we forget? He shops at Costco!"
"They send good coupons in the mail!" Jack defended himself
"Bro - you're a disabled, widowed veteran who makes more than half a million dollars a year. I think you can afford real clothes." Ellis deadpanned.
“Any other comments from the fashion police about my outfit?”
“Don’t threaten us with a good time.”
Jack cocked his head towards her, smirk widening. He couldn't hide how happy he was to see her. It had been a long couple of days, "And to think I was just starting to miss you."
"Just starting to!?" She raised her eyebrows in challenge, feigning offense while her eyes practically sparkled up at him. He could feel the weight of Ellis's knowing smile on them. He didn't care.
He was debating how obvious it would be for him to pull her into a hug until Dana beat him to it.
"Dr Al, you have just met one of our finest," Dana squeezed her harder, "Except you probably won't see her much because Abbot is always hogging her on nights."
She was released from Dana's grip just enough to clap a light hand on Jack's shoulder, giving him a squeeze, "He needs someone to keep him sharp in his old age."
Jack grimaced the second her hand had made contact with his shoulder and dread washed over her face. Dana fully released her now. Letting her turn all of her attention onto Jack.
“Jack…”
“I’m fine.” He avoided her probing stare and that was exactly how she knew he was not fine.
“Really?” She asked - not buying what he was selling.
“Yes!" She applied light pressure on his shoulder again and he wriggled out of her grasp with a sharp and hissed, "- ah!”
“The room right there is open. Go patch him up.” Dana pointed to the room across the hall. Shooing them in there before Jack had a chance to protest.
Jack sat on the bed as she shut the door and pulled the curtain. Her back was still turned to him as she said, "Take off your shirt."
"At least let me take you to dinner first." Jack tried to pull a laugh from her. It didn't go over well.
"Jack." She warned. Now turned toward him with her arms crossed, “What happened?”
“I was intubating in open fire and a bullet grazed my vest. I’m fine.” He shrugged as he pulled off his shirt. As if what he just said was a completely normal and frequent occurrence.
“You were shot!?” She hurried over to him, standing in between his legs as he sat on the bed.
“Shot…at."
She tilted her head at him in annoyance. Pausing her opening of the various utensils she was preparing to clean his wound.
“What?” He asked.
“Can’t you just take up tennis or golf or literally anything else? Like a normal person?”
“What fun would that be?” Jack insisted upon keeping it light. She shouldn't ever have to worry about him. That was his job.
She lathered some kind of ointment onto his open wound that was on the front of his chest, right above his collar bone. Jack was too distracted by how close they were to care and see what kind.
“There is nothing fun about me coming to work one day and finding out you’re dead because you wanted an adrenaline rush.”
“That isn’t gonna happen.”
“You don’t know that. You think you’re invincible and you’re not.”
“Is that an old joke?”
“Jack-“ her voice cracked and Jack was immediately on his feet, cupping her face in his hands.
“Woah, woah honey okay - I thought we were kidding. I’m fine.” He cooed, one hand stroked her cheek bone making sure not one tear fell while the other steadied her at her hip as she stood between his legs.
“Look at me." He tilted his chin down while he tilted hers up, holding her gaze with his own, "I’m fine. And I’m not going anywhere."
“I won’t survive you dying, Jack. I can't.” Her voice sounded wrecked as her chin wobbled. Jack felt horribly responsible. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Naturally, like they had been in this position a million times before. He murmured into the side of her hair, “Okay forget the SWAT thing. Although, you should’ve seen me earlier in my full uniform I looked pretty sick”
Jack huffed a sigh of relief as he felt her laugh vibrate through him. He pulled her back with his hands on her shoulders to get another good look at her, "There's my girl."
She wiped a sniffle with the back of her hand and lightly pushed him back down to a seat. His hands never left her. Just slid down her body until he rested them on the outsides of her upper thighs - a safe distance away from the hem of her jean skirt.
She worked in silence for a moment until Jack piped back up, “I’ll pick up tennis or golf like a normal person. I promise.”
“You don’t have to do that, Jack. I just want you to have a little more regard for your life okay? Can you please just do that for me?”
“I can’t think of anything I wouldn’t do for you.” Jack didn't even think that was an exaggeration.
“Except for wearing the correct size shirt.”
He teasingly pinched her leg and she swatted at his good shoulder, laughing. She was done helping him but they hadn't moved. Neither of them really wanted to.
“That’s for you too. Don’t think I don’t see you staring at my biceps.”
Her eyebrows rose in faux surprise as she dragged a hand down his freckled arm.
“Oh you wanna talk about staring? I must have picked that up from someone.”
“This is a teaching hospital.”
“Could’ve mistaken it for a staring one.”
“Come on - you’re always performing medical miracles while looking like that. I can’t help it. Cut a guy some slack.” Jack's hands felt like they were on fire, practically kneading her thighs. God, she really had to wear this skirt today of all days.
“You’re a flirt, you know that?”
“Only with you.”
They had about a second to jump apart at the sound of a knock on the door before the curtain was pulled back to reveal Dr Al-Hashimi.
Jack rubbed at the back of his neck. Both him and her were looking anywhere but each other. Jack wasn't planning on getting excited but he was thankful he had placed his shirt over his lap to cover himself now that they were no longer alone.
Dr Al-Hashimi cleared her throat, obviously picking up on the fact that she had interrupted something, "Sorry to uh, interrupt. But my number, Dr Abbot. Like we discussed. For that date.”
Dr Al-Hashimi handed Jack a piece of paper and then turned to her, "You have a visitor from cardio thoracic surgery outside."
Jack groaned. Could Mr Harvard have any worse timing? She shot Jack a glare and stepped outside. Jack could see the shadow of Mr Harvard who he knew was down here pretending he'd have something to do with her brother's ankle surgery just to flirt.
He caught the end of her dismissing Mr Harvard's valiant attempt at being her knight in shining armor. Jack smiled to himself as he made his way back to the hub to catch up with her. He was explaining a procedure to Whitaker as he walked, "You're gonna have to start with your finger. And then slowly over a few minutes as the wetness gathers, go deeper. All the way to the back of the knuckle."
Whitaker nodded in understanding and was on his merry way. She turned right on Jack the second he was in her vicinity.
"What the hell is your problem?!"
"Problem?" Jack asked, genuinely perplexed.
Her voice pitched down, she whispered, "Why do you have to say everything so unnecessarily slutty? You wanna ask Whitaker out too!?"
Now that - Jack was not expecting. He quirked his eyebrow up in surprise. Also in confusion.
"Ask Whitaker out? What are you-"
He was cut off by a little girl screaming her name and running right into her arms, "Look! Look! Your work is on my new soccer jersey!"
The girl couldn't be older than five. Jack recognized the little girl as her niece from photos she had shown him. He noticed who must have been her sister in law a few feet away, talking to Robby presumably about discharge instructions for her brother as he awaited surgery that he would probably have next week once the swelling went down.
"What are you talking about? Lemme see that." She plucked the jersey from her niece and examined the PTMC logo on it.
Jack knew his cheeks were ruby red. He could see the gears in her head putting it all together as she stared at the small jersey with the ironed on PTMC ED patch. A couple weeks ago, she had told him offhandedly that her niece's soccer league was going to get cancelled since they had no sponsor. So Jack called up the park district and paid for it himself. Under the guise it was the PTMC ED. It was no big deal. If her niece was happy, she was happy.
She put her niece down next to her on the ground as her eyes looked up to Jack, softening, "We don't have the budget for this."
"I know. But I do."
She opened her mouth to say something but her niece cut her off, climbing into her dad's lap on his wheelchair as he, her sister in law, and Robby joined them at the hub, "Auntie, is this Dr Sexy?"
Jack's lips immediatley preened, quirking up into an amused smirk, Dr Ellis and Robby doubled over in laughter.
"No baby - this is Dr Abbot." She tried to recover, her eyes blown wide, mouth agape and her cheeks beet red. She couldn't even look at Jack.
"But you always call him Dr Sexy when you are talking to mommy. What does sexy mean?"
"OKAY-" she said loudly, still looking anywhere but at Jack. She turned her gaze on her brother as she clapped her hands together, "-it is time for you all to leave."
"Only if Dr Sexy walks us out." Her brother teased.
She groaned, putting her head in her hands as Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She hid in the crook of his neck, "I am getting a new job."
"Oh no you're not."
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack met her at her car after he helped her family to theirs. “Dr Sexy, huh?”
“Shut up. I'm trying to be annoyed with you and you’re making it damn hard”
“Why are you annoyed with me?” Jack steadied himself with a wide stance, crossed his arms over his chest as she turned to look at him, leaning against her car door.
“Seriously?"
Jack just raised his eyebrows back at her in question.
She mirrored his stance, crossed arms over chest, "So you go on dates now?”
“What are you talking about? Is this about tonight? If you don't want to go anymore we don't have to-”
She imitated him and Dr Al-Hashimi from earlier, "Sorry to uh, interrupt. But my number, Dr Abbot. Like we discussed. For that date.” She emphasized the word.
Jack rubbed his hand over his face, stopping at his scruff and trying to mask the smirk that was threatening to take over his face, “Are you…jealous?”
She scoffed, trying to sound nonchalant but Jack knew her too well for that, “Me? Jealous? No, Jack I just think it’s wildly inappropriate. This is our workplace.”
“Well that’s a damn shame because I didn’t ask Dr Al on a date. I’m setting her up on one. With my army buddy actually."
Her lips formed a barely there oh, "Well…now I just feel like a bitch."
Jack laughed and stepped closer, shaking his head in refute to her statement. He let his hands find purchase on her car, caging her in.
His voice came out far more groveled than expected, "But I’ve been wanting to ask you on a date for going on, oh I don’t know almost five years now, but if you think it’s so wildly inappropri-"
“I don’t!”
“You dont? But I thought-“
He earned himself an eyeroll and a stern, “Jack.”
“You just said-" He couldn't help the huge grin spreading across his face.
“I know what I said.”
“So - let me get this straight - it’s only wildly inappropriate if it’s a date with anyone but you? Is that stated somewhere in the HR handbook or-”
"God, do you ever shutup?" And then her lips were on his.
His whole body felt like it was on fire. Her hands on each side of his face, his squeezing at her hips and pressing her up against the car. Just like that night at the gala. Except this time he actually got to kiss her. He was kissing her.
His head spun at the way her fingers circled around to the nape of his neck, tugging at his curls. He cradled her jaw in one strong hand and grabbed her waist with the other, hand pushing up the white tank she had on to make contact with her bare skin. They couldn't possible get any closer but it still didn't feel close enough.
Jack didn't want to ever stop the exploration of his hands along her body. He grabbed at the flesh on the outside of her upper thigh, hiking it up slightly around his hips. She ground herself down onto his bulge and the gasp she let out was heavenly. Jack took the chance to swipe his tongue into her mouth, as she ground down again, slower this time. Jack couldn't keep his moan from tumbling out.
He pulled back ever so slightly, their lips still practically touching as their chests heaved, "Baby, where are your keys?"
"My keys? That is what you care about right now?" She went to grind on him again but Jack's hands grabbed her hips, halting her.
"If you keep doing that I am going to come in my pants in the hospital parking garage and I would much rather come somewhere else in the comfort of my own home. I've been thinking about this for a long time. I want to take my time with you."
"How long?" She asked as she slipped her keys into Jack's front pocket.
"Inappropriatley long. Now get in the car so Dr Sexy can drive us home."
"I am never gonna live that down, am I?"
"Absolutely not."
"I hate you."
Jack grabbed her chin and peppered her face with kisses, ending with one on her lips as she giggled. Kissing her hard because he could do that now, "Somehow, I am not convinced."
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack's left hand flexed hard on her steering wheel. His right hand preoccupied with a steady grip on her upper thigh. Her left hand played with his curls as he drove.
"What are you thinking about?"
"How after the gala last year I went home and touched myself. Imagined my fingers were yours." Jack choked on nothing at her words.
"Jesus Christ - I am trying not to cause a mass casualty event, honey. Can you please just wait till we get home."
She groaned his name in frustration and squeezed his fingers between her thighs, trying to find friction anyway she could.
"You're that needy?"
"Yes, Jack."
"Show me then." His voice was gritty and low as he knocked her knees apart. He batted down the sun visor on her side, sliding the mirror cover up and aiming it perfectly to reflect her lap.
She whined at the loss of contact as both of his hands now gripped the steering wheel. Her eyes screwed shut and her chest lifted, breathing heavy. The way her hard nipples were peaking through her tank top was enough to make Jack scared he was going to crash the car.
"Show me how you touch yourself when you think about me. You think you can handle that for me, baby?"
His words seemed to hit her all at once. Demanding in the way it was when he was ordering people around the ED. The tone went straight to her core as she hiked her jean skirt up over her hips and slid her small lacy black thong down her legs. She stuffed it in one of the pockets of Jack's camo pants, lightly squeezing his bulge as she did. All Jack could murmur out was a hissed fuck as she angled her center to the mirror above her, giving him a perfect view of her absolutely soaked core.
"I asked you a question."
"Yes, yes I can handle it. I promise." She rushed her words out in one run on sentence, out of breath as her chest heaved.
"Good girl, baby. Show me how you touch yourself."
She nodded as she began to rub her clit, her voice shakey as she spoke, "I start like this and I think about everything you said to me that day. When you tell me good job after a prodecure or how you order everyone around or how-"
A tumbled moan falls from her lips, cutting herself off.
"Do you play with these pretty tits?" Jack reached over and gripped the nape of her neck, tugging at the string of her halter top and letting it fall. He pulled it down, her tits spilling out as he tweaked a nipple, kneading it after with his palm.
He thought she squeaked out a soft uh huh with a nod that trailed into a moan as her right hand slipped two fingers into her center. The sound was obscene as she pushed in and out, her head falling back and her chest pushing forward into Jack's hand.
"Jack!" She was getting louder now, the pace of her fingers moving quicker. The tone of her voice filled with unabashed need.
"What else, baby?"
All she could do was babble in response. Jack's hand fell from her nipples to her pussy, giving it a slap before grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at herself in the mirror, "Do you see how pretty your pussy is? What was that you said earlier? That I say everything so slutty? Look who's the slut now."
They both saw the way her pussy contracted around her two fingers at his words. The way her already dripping core somehow managed to get even more wet at the filth he was spilling.
"Oh you like when I am a little mean, don't you?"
She could barely nod, her chest hitting her chin as her breathing became more rapid the closer she inched towards her finish line.
"You wanna come for me?"
"Please." She panted. Jack smirked to himself as he grabbed her wrist, pulled her hand from her center before she could even think about finishing, and pressed her fingers into his mouth - licking them clean.
Her head lolled against the seat, she groaned his name. A mix of frustration and want as she dazedly stared at him.
"I've waited almost five years to taste you, honey. You can wait five more minutes till we are home, yeah?"
She huffed out an, "I hate you."
"Somehow, I am not convinced." He chuckled as he placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
Jack held her hand gently as he tugged her into his house. She was practically bouncing on her heels behind him. "I'm gonna shower first and then-"
"Like hell you are." She snipped. Now she was pulling him. Through his foyer and straight to his couch where she perched herself on his lap, bracketing his hips with her thighs and grinding down on his bulge that was dying to spring out of his pants.
He pushed her skirt back up her hips and rubbed her upper thighs as she rocked her bare pussy down on him, her hands steadying herself on his neck as she leaned into press her mouth to his.
Jack's chest was heaving, "Baby, I'm all sweaty and gross from TEMS."
"I couldn't care less, Jack. You might be patient enough to wait five years but I sure as hell am not. Please touch me."
"Like this?" His fingers rubbed her clit, her head falling back in relief at him finally touching her where she needed him most.
"God, you were dripping all over your car and now you're soaking my couch? Who's got you so worked up?" She gasped as Jack entered two thick fingers in her, kissing up her neck as he did. Nipping at her jaw line as he pulled her tank top down so he could swirl his mouth around one of her sensitive nipples.
She pulled his shirt off over his head, flashing him a mischevious smirk before, "Dr Harvard from cardiac surgery."
Jack's fingers stopped immediatley. She whined and writhed in his lap at the loss of contact. Jack wrapped his other hand around her neck, squeezing slightly, "I thought you were gonna be good for me?"
"I will, I will. I am." She begged. Jack didn't know what he did in a past life to get her begging like this in his lap but he was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Atta girl." He cooed, adding a third finger and plunging back into her tight core, "I am gonna ask you again - what's got you so worked up?"
"You, Jack! Your voice and your arms and your curls and these stupid fucking pants."
"Oh my girl likes my uniform, yeah? Is that what had you so bratty today? Want me to fuck you in it?"
"Please." she huffed. Sweat beading at the top of her forehead as she began to rock her hips, riding his fingers.
"Come for me first."
"Yeah, thats it." Jack hissed, trying hard not to imagine what it would feel like to have his cock where his fingers were. That would surely lead to an early curtain call, "That's it. My good girl."
"Fuck, Jack" She let out a shakey laugh as she came down from her orgasm, riding it out on Jack's fingers as she threaded her fingers in his hair.
"The uniform really does it for you, huh?"
She kissed him hard, "You do it for me. The uniform is just a bonus."
Jack readjusted her in his lap, pushing her legs open further over the expanse of his thick thighs. She whined at the stretch, "Come here, baby. you're doing so good for me. Wanna take my time with you."
"You can take your time with me later. I need you to fuck me now."
"Yeah? That needy, huh?"
"Yes, Jack please." She murmured as she undid the belt on his camo pants.
"You're the boss." Jack winked. He may have been her boss at work. She may have liked him bossing her around in bed. But she was the boss in every other sense of the word.
"Funny."
"Glad you think so." Jack hissed as she wrapped her hand around his hard length, preening with pre cum at the tip. She pushed his pants and his boxers down in one go, his erection immediatley slapping up against his stomach.
Jack's head fell back onto the couch as he let out a moan, her fingers rubbing the precum from his tip down his shaft and back up again. She spit into her hand and repeated the same movement. Jack thought he might come right then and there.
"Wanna ride you, please. I'm clean and on birth control. Need to feel you."
Jack couldn’t even get words out. He was too busy trying not to come from a handjob like a horned up teenager, "Same. Mm clean, too" He managed to get out, eyes fluttering shut as another wave of pleasure wracked his body, "Fuck, baby."
She sunk down on him in an instant, relishing the stretch and sending them both into a fit of whimpered moans. Jack used one hand on her hip to guide her motions, the other rubbing up and down her back, eventually landing in her hair as he tugged her forward into a blistering kiss. Now that he knew what her lips felt like he was never gonna go long without kissing them.
"Fuck!" She rocked down hard on him again, "You feel fucking phenomenal. So tight, So. Perfect." He emphasized his praise with kisses, "Taking me so well. Like you were fucking made for me."
He took the hand from her hair and placed it on her clit, rubbing it as she started to rock quicker. He could tell she was close again. He was in danger of spilling over at any second, "You have no business being so good at this. Fuck, I'm not gonna last long baby. Fuck, look at you." Jack brought the hand from her hip up to her mouth, pushing his thumb into her mouth, moaning as she immediatley began to suck on it.
"All these years. Had a feeling you'd get off on praise. Knew you'd wanna be so good for me. Knew you'd be such a good slut just for me, yeah?"
"Yeah, please. Just for you, I promise." Jack didn't know how he had managed to keep himself from finishing with the way she was riding him. She steadied herself on his shoulders, brought herself all the way up and then slowly rocked herself back down, taking all of him and making sure he felt every fucking inch of her velvety walls.
"If you keep doing that I am not gonna last long." He managed to grunt out.
"Then don't. Come in me, please. Want you to fill me up."
Those words alone did it for Jack as he spilled his warm release into her, continuing to rub her clit. "Give me another one baby. I know you can do it. You can do anything. You're fucking brilliant. Your brilliant fucking brain. C'mon, I feel you clenching. Let go. Come on my cock, please."
She tugged hard on his hair, mixing her own release with his as she came. Panting into Jack's mouth as he whispered, "Good girl."
Jack cradled her cheek as she rode out her orgasm on his cock, whispering praise as she did. He swiped two fingers through the mix of their arousals and brought them to her mouth.
Jacks eyes watched, mesmerized, blown out with arousal as she sucked on his fingers, released them with a pop and then, "The second I saw you in that uniform I wanted to drop to my knees in the middle of the hub and suck the soul out of you."
She wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her bare chest over his and nuzzling into his neck, peppering kisses there as he scratched her back. His laugh vibrated through her, "Jesus Christ - you can't say shit like that when I'm still inside of you."
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
He eventually gently cleaned her up. Once she agreed to finally get off of him. He had to bribe her with kisses. He didn't mind one bit. He dragged her to the shower which lead to him having to clean her up again. Again, he didn't mind one bit.
He was at the stove now. Donning only a pair of gray sweatpants as he cooked dinner and watched her pad around his kitchen in only his tshirt and some basketball shorts with probably the dopiest smile of all time on his face.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, tucking herself into his side. He used his free hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer, pressing kisses into her hair. She behaved for a moment until he felt a pair of soft lips pressing kisses across the side of his chest that was accessible to her.
He turned the burner down, dropped the spoon he had been using to stir the pasta on the counter and then grabbed her hips, trapping her against his kitchen island, "You're going to make me burn dinner."
She put her finger to her lips, pretended to think about what he had to say and then with a quick kiss to his lips she muttered against them, "Mmmm, don't care!"
He dug into his pocket, unlocked his phone and put it in her hands, "Put on music. It is already hooked up to the speaker system,"
He picked her up by her hips, causing the cutest squeal he had ever heard, and plopped her down onto his counter. He rubbed a gentle thumb against her cheek, the other against her hip as he stood between her legs, "You need to eat, baby."
She grumbled a fine. She knew when it came to taking care of her - Jack would not budge. She scrolled through his Spotify - she wanted to find something both of them would like but first she was gonna stalk what he already listened to. Of course her curiosity was gonna get the better of her.
A quiet gasp fell from her lips - causing Jack to look over from his spot in front of the stove, "What?"
She turned his phone screen to him, already spotting the flush creeping up on his chest. He recognized the playlist almost immediatley. Made up of all the songs she had played while he drove her home these past couple years - simply titled with her name. There was hundreds of songs on there.
"Did you make this? Do you listen to it?"
Jack figured now was as good a time as ever to lay out all his cards onto the table. Even if he was so embarrassed he couldn't even look up from the dinner he was cooking. He spoke fast, "Would you be entirely creeped out if I told you I replaced the police scanner with it?"
"Would you be entirely creeped out if I told you I am so beyond in love with you?"
Jack's head snapped up from the dinner. He'd never moved so quickly in his life. He was back to standing in between her legs, holding her face - just staring at her with a huge smile. The same expression was being mirrored back to him. It made his heart soar.
"You do? I mean, you are?"
She laughed, "Where have you been the past couple years?”
"Waiting for you to realize that I've been hopelessly in love with you."
"Are we the dumbest smart people alive?"
"Potentially. But doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Only you. Only us." He kissed her now. Slotted his lips over hers like the perfect final piece of a puzzle. His stomach fluttered at the sensation of her fingers finding their home in his curls. He couldn't believe that this was real. That she loved him. He already knew that the astronomical amount he loved her was very, very real.
"God, I love you." Kiss, "So much." Another kiss.
"Say it again." Jack whispered against her lips, smiling like a little kid.
"I love you, Jack."
He pulled back just a bit. Just enough to murmur how much he loved her and get a good look at her face, "Remember when you were so jealous earlier?" He teased.
"I was not-" She began to deny it but Jack leveled a look at her, "I hate you!" she giggled, swatting at his shoulder that was not bandaged up.
"Somehow, I am not convinced." He preened.
"Mmmm, good." She was kissing him again. He could do this forever. He will do this forever - if he has anything to say about it.
The ding of her phone was what made him pull away. But not by much. They both looked at the cause of the disruption, Jack planting kisses up and down her neck, jaw, and chest as she unlocked her phone.
From Robby: Doing scheduling. Can you pick up a shift next Tuesday night please? Shen needs off. You'll get to see your doctor sexy🤪
They both let out a cackle. Jack took her phone and took a selfie with his middle finger up. He sent it to Robby along with a message that read, 'Stop texting my girlfriend.'
"Girlfriend, huh?"
Jack rubbed up and down her thighs as he spoke, "Figured you might think I was insane if I said wife after just one day but trust me that is part of the plan."
"What else is in the plan?”
“Maybe a kid or two? Or four? Or zero. Really as many or as little as you’ll give me. I’m just happy to be here.”
She chuckled, kissed him while lovingly stroking his face, “I like that plan.”
“Yeah?” He asked, brimming with hope.
She nodded as her phone went off again, a message from Robby flashing across the screen. Jack kissed each of her cheeks, her forehead, and then her lips before reading it out loud - sending them both into a fit of giggles.
From Robby: You owe me one, man.
Boy, did he.
hope this double reblogged because GAAAWWWDDDD im feral over this!
