Welcome to my… third??? annual Jackolanterns in July Event! It’s about this time that i get antsy for spooky season again so I make it y’all’s problem too lol
In this challenge, your entry must include where the reader is both tricked and treated! Though not necessarily in that order. When the reader gets something clearly considered Bad then something clearly considered Good happens or vice versa! Did they get what they wished for but with unexpected consequences? Or did their bad luck surprisingly turn around? Have fun and get creative!! Would love to see some fun twists of fate and circumstances!
Dark fics will be accepted though I request you tag your warnings to be featured! I’d prefer it to be a fandom I’m a part of, but it’s not required! They don’t have to be straight up horror, though that is certainly encouraged. Other rules include:
🎃MUST be Halloweeny/Spooky themed
🎃You don’t have to be following me to participate, but you do have to be 18+ years old and have it stated in your blog description or pinned post or I won’t read your fic or accept it.
🎃Your story does not have to include smut, but I would not be mad if it did. So please, Minors, Do NOT interact.
🎃Original works only!
🎃Here come the straight up No’s (there aren’t many!) Please, no watersports/scat, OC love interests (x Reader only!), extreme depictions of torture, bestiality (monsterfucking is A-Ok!), necrophilia, or underage characters in sexual situations.
If it is part of an existing series or story, your fic must be able to be read and understood as a standalone piece. Let’s keep it to 3 entries for this event to keep it simple, huh? Word limit set at 4000 per entry, but anything over 500 words must have a read more or I won’t reblog it (but I will include it on the masterlist). I’m gonna read and reply to everything that’s within my rules and I reserve the right to not interact with any content I feel is harmful or offensive. And I’d super appreciate those participating to provide some content warnings! Also give me time 😭 If I haven’t interacted within 3 days, DM me.
I’ll be accepting entries for this event the entire length of July 2025! I will be following the tag #JackolanternsinJulyevent2025 so please put that in the first five tags of your fic and tag me! I’ll be making a masterlist of all the approved entries and post it by the first week in August!
Honestly, as a gift to myself, I’ll be extending this event through August this year!!
This year has been a lot for me so far and writing hasn’t been an escape option for me lately, but reading very much has!! Now Im not saying im fully relying on yall to support my mental wellbeing in this time but im also not not saying that 🙂
So yeah! Jackolanterns in July… into August 😂 thank you 😊
Summary: How they met and how things started out. A background to this drabble.
Wordcount: 2.1k
Warnings: age gap (reader is 28, Bucky is 48), explicit sexy times, Bucky being a hot older gentleman but not really a gentleman coz he is nasty, some feels, breeding kink, daddy kink
18+ ONLY! IF YOU ARE A MINOR, KINDLY EXIT STAGE LEFT! DO NOT INTERACT!
A/N: Kept thinking about getting p*netrated by DILF Bucky so yeah lol Title based on We Might Even Be Falling In Love by the talented Victoria Monet. Not beta'd! Enjoy~
|| MASTERLIST ||
You must have lost your damn mind.
That would be the only reason why you did the things you did last night. And why you did him. Or he did you. He most definitely did you, really well. You slink yourself out of the sheets tangled beneath your legs and roll to the floor in a soft thud. You wince as you try to move around to search for your missing clothes in the room.
You find your bra on the floor by the door and reach for them, pausing when the man on the bad shifts from lying on his back to lying on his side away from where you just slept. You feel guilty for sneaking out but you can’t face him. Not now, not this morning. Maybe not ever.
Yesterday was terrible. It was a shitty conclusion to months of preparation for a project that caused you too many sleepless nights and so much mental anguish. And then in the last minute someone else swooped in, took all the credit and left you dry. You almost climbed over the conference table and scratched at Heather’s surgically enhanced cheekbones. Good thing Tessa held your arm before you did anything dramatic, like murder the daughter of the chairman of board of your company’s biggest investor.
So, you sat there fuming, shooting daggers from your eyes as Heather smiled and thanked the marketing director for showering her with compliments. She would have gotten them without stealing your project, she was a Barnes after all. Born with a diamond encrusted spoon and now works for one of her daddy’s subsidiaries before she eventually takes her rightful place as a board member. Fuck Heather!
Poison was on your tongue and molten lava was in your veins, a combination that would be deadly to anyone around you at the moment, so you chose to keep away in case you spewed it on your co-workers. You started happy hour at four in the afternoon, parking your butt on one of the stools at Maria’s bistro. It would be two more hours before they opened for the dinner rush which meant you had plenty of time to drown that little angry demon inside you that wanted to commit felonies.
You were almost sober. You think. The steak sandwich that Carol gave you comfortably settled in your stomach, sloshing around the multiple shots of rum and two and a half cocktails. You were peacefully chewing while sitting atop the corner counters in the kitchen, enjoying the heat and the systematic activities that flurried around you.
That was until one of the servers popped into the kitchen and announced an array of orders for a VIP level table. Two words: James. Barnes.
Your eyes widen at the mention of his name. The previous cool reigniting as the incidents of today replay in your mind. You’re reminded of falling asleep on the train and waking up to missing your stop. Of the events that you missed out on because you had to chase suppliers at ridiculous hours. The countless meals you missed because you were too in the zone with work.
You pop off the counter and take cooking wine from one of the chefs, chugging it down in one go. With a deep scowl and determination, you wipe your mouth with your sleeve and march your way into the restaurant, zeroing in on your target.
You march over to the man. It was easy to pin point which one was the James Barnes. He was constantly on Page Six, photographed at events wearing Armani or Prada suits that were worth someone’s mortgage. Your step stutters as you get close enough, breath hitching at the sight of him. Who told him to be this pretty?
Cool eyes look up at you with a slightly confused arch of his left brow.
“Can I help you?”
He asks with a deep timber that makes your hair stand on its ends. You stutter again, gulping at the sudden pool that developed in your throat.
"I- I, uh-"
He tilts his head, eyes boring into you. His companion leaves at a subtle flick of his finger while you remain frozen.
"Would you like to sit down?"
No. You want to say no. But you find yourself nodding your head yes. Your body moves and settles in the seat next to him. You yelp and hold on to his arm when he slides your chair closer to him, the show of strength spreading hot on your skin. Your jaw slack as you try and remember why you were here in the first place. You stutter again when he asks you a question you could not hear. Then you see the glass of vodka on the table. You aim for the glass and down all the contents in one go.
There's a hint of mirth on James Barnes' face, sharp eyes following your every move. His tongue darts out as you moan loudly when the vodka burns at the back of your throat. He hands you a glass of water and you take it with both hands with a muttered thanks.
"Your daughter is a bitch!"
"Excuse me?"
The words escape your mouth as soon as your throat is clear, causing the man beside you to lean forward and chuckle. HIs face was closer now. Clearer. You can see the freckles on his nose and the slight graying of his beard in high definition. So close.
His arm takes position on the back of your chair. Another pull and your thighs are touching. His pants, soft and warm against your exposed skin. Your breath hitches. This was not how you wanted this confrontation to go. You clench your eyes shut and wring your hands.
"You heard me," you exhale and face him. Eyes returning to their previous ire. "She's a bitch. I don't get why she had to steal my fucking project and declare it as her own! She does not need it! She has money, your money, and a multi-million dollar corporation to inherit. I on the other hand, have bills to pay and I don't have a- a daddy like you to bail me out when my rent is due and I have to choose between getting home safe, eating a nice meal, or having a roof over my head!"
Your ears ring as you spit out your frustration. Your chest heaves as you stare at James Barnes, regret and embarrassment crawling in your veins at your little outburst. You didn't even realize your hands were fisting his shirt until he speaks and pries your hands off his clothes and holds them against his own. His palms are warm and his fingers soothing.
"I apologize for Heather's behavior. I did not raise her like that. In fact, I did not raise her at all." The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard and your shoulders relax at the way he was holding you. Your ire has gone down but not completely away. You're enamored as he speaks, eyes tracing his lips as they move. "Tell me all about your project and let me fix this."
He gives you a lopsided smirk, almost boyish even against his features. And that was when you got into the trouble you were in now.
You don't remember how but you find yourself tangled in his arms, pulling him close, and savoring how he tasted on your tongue. You were turned on beyond belief. You've never been this wet, this excited to be in the throes with someone.
He growls in your ear when you pull his hand and place it between your thighs. Patience running thin as he takes his time touching you everywhere except where you needed him to touch you most.
"Please, James-"
He hooks the gusset of your panties to the side and slides two fingers in your slit. He moans against your skin when he feels how soaked you are, pads of his fingers gliding hotly on your lips.
"It's Bucky- call me, Bucky."
"Buck-" your breath leaves you as he pushes in a finger in your soaking cunt. Your back arches and your chin tips towards the ceiling. Your hands wander, looking for something, anything to anchor yourself to.
"Fuck, you're tight." He pants, lips against your cheek as he pushes in and out slowly until he finds his rhythm. You follow it, hips dancing into his fingers for more. For relief. More. More. More. "Yes, more. I'll give you more, angel."
Three. He's three knuckles deep inside you. Your juices run down your thighs as he squeezes pleasure from you. Your blinded by searing lust that his touches manage out of you. You wanted to scream, wanted to run away from his skilled hand. And yet, and yet. Your breath hitches and you throw your head back as you gush into his palm. Undeterred by your cries, Bucky continues to pump you and hit you in that spot that pokes into you like magic. Knees shaking and blood rushing to your ears, he kisses you softly and sweetly.
"You asked for more, yes?" He's teasing you. Taunting you. But you've never been a quitter. Never one to back down. So you nod, and you get naked beneath him. And Bucky takes you, takes your breath away and makes you forget how your night started.
You couldn't even take your time to oggle him because he's pressed against you. You takes you on your back, thighs pushed up against your chest, spread open for him. He tastes you and you give it to him. HIs tongue full of praise that fills you with butterflies. You're exposed under his gaze and the way he whispers.
"Fucking beautiful. Perfect pussy," you moan as he eats you, savors every inch of you. You dare take a peek of him and you come almost immediately when he looks at you while his face is smeared with your essence. He gives you soft kisses and little bites on your shaking thighs.
The night ends with him inside you. He glides in and out, taking his fill of you until hot lightning hits him. You latch your legs behind him, crossing your ankles to keep him inside when he tells you he was going to come.
"Inside- all of it." you plead, something that you've never done before. You're scared for a second. Scared he'll reject you and push you away only to finish off on your skin. But no, Bucky smiles again. A crooked one full of mischief and satisfaction.
"You wanna be full of me, angel? Want my seed inside you, huh?" His rhythm returns into vigor. Skin slapping against skin. You babble your concessions to him as he builds you up again. "Want to make me a daddy, again? You'll make me a daddy, huh?"
You bite on his shoulder as he pushes deep inside you. You feel him, all of him. His heartbeat erratic against your skin when he paints your inside with his seed. You feel satiated, full, warm. You feel him.
There are stars behind your eyelids after you come down from the high. You dream of touches and kisses. You dream of warm blue eyes. You dream of happiness. You dream of Bucky.
Which brings you back to this morning. As heavenly as your dreams were, you could not escape the fact that last night was stupid. Yes, you had the best fucking of your life and you can still feel him throbbing inside you but you could not face him. You had to go.
"You're just gonna leave without these?" You yelp when Bucky startles you as he stands by his bedroom door, twirling your panties in his finger. He was wearing a robe with nothing underneath, morning wood visible and beautiful. You almost drool at the sight since you didn't really get to look at it last night.
"Right. I need those back. I don't like the city breeze to pass through my-" you purse your lips and stand straight.
"Give me a kiss goodbye and I'll return them."
"Just a kiss?"
He shrugs and loops the elastic around his hand before gesturing for you to come closer.
"Maybe some breakfast."
"And then I can go?"
You step closer to him. Like a moth to flame. He smirks because he knows what's going through your head.
"Only if you want,"
Bucky grabs your wrist and pulls you against him. He gives you a kiss that makes your toes tingle. You don't go and you don't get your underwear back. But you do get to memorize every bump, vein and freckle on Bucky's body. And then, when Monday comes back around, your plan to destroy Heather is set into motion.
Fic interaction is unfortunately dwindling, and I think we’re all feeling it. So this is my small attempt to help boost some engagement through the community and potentially help some writers earn new readers!
The challenge: to shine a light on as many fics as possible and show writers some love by reblogging with thoughtful comments
When: 11th - 31st July 2025
Who: all over the age of 18 are welcome, writers and/or readers alike. Not limited to any specific fandoms, let’s spread love and lanterns 🏮 far and wide!
Challenge Info:
There is no minimum or maximum number of fics to read, or words to leave in a comment. Only do what you are able to and what you feel comfortable with
Comments are the most motivating form of interaction writers can receive, so I encourage you to try your best to show writers appreciation with thoughtful reblog comments. Here are some links if you’re not sure what to comment or how to start leaving comments:
Fanfiction Comment Guide
Comment Starters
Guide to Leaving Long and Detailed Comments
No need to officially sign up, but it would be appreciated if you could let me know if you’re interested and share this post to spread the word
If you’re looking for a higher difficulty to this challenge, there are some prompts below the cut to help you spread your fic reading horizons! This part is completely optional
Please reblog the fics you read with #lantern reblog challenge and use the challenge banner below so we can spread love and lanterns 🏮 throughout the community this July!
Either throughout the challenge period or at very the end, collate all the fics you reblogged and post a Fic Rec Masterlist to help promote all those amazing fics even more! Please also tag me so I can create a Challenge Masterlist
Prompts for Challenge Hard Mode (Optional)
Read from three writers you have never read from before
Read three fics which were posted prior to 2020/give some love to older fics which may not have received a reblog comment in years
Read three fics which currently have less than 50 notes (posted more than a week ago)
Branch out and read for a fandom you have never read from before
If you traditionally read x reader stories, spread love to our writers with OCs
Help boost new writers joining our community and read a fic from a writer who has posted less than five fics total
Give your mutuals some extra love and reread your favourite fics from them
Read a long fic (10k+) or start a series you’ve been meaning to get to
Read a fic which has been sitting in your TBR list for far too long
Tagging some mutuals who might be interested in participating, but absolutely no pressure!
Summary: Ari has good plans this summer and you're in the center of it.
Wordcount: 1.9k
Warnings: NONCON!, DUBCON, age gap (reader is 20, Ari is 40s), throat fingering, oral (f receiving), squirting, wet beards
18+ ONLY, IF YOU ARE A MINOR KINDLY FUCK OFF RESPECTFULLY!
HEED THE WARNINGS! PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK!
A/N: Ari been on my mind. I just want him to put his fingers in every hole of my body. Is that too much to ask? Been screaming at @onsunnyside and she's been very encouraging about this. Ily, bb. As always, feedback is appreciated. Not beta'd! Enjoy~
|| MASTERLIST ||
“Hey, Mr. Levinson! Is Ada up yet?” your voice is a welcome sound in the early Saturday morning as Ari picks up packages and mail from his door step. You were peeking over well-trimmed flowering bushes, eyes sparkling with eagerness under the freshness of the day, bouncing on your toes. Ari couldn’t remember being that perky when he was your age. He knows it’s the innocence and naiveté from all the shit shows of the world and he couldn’t help but get hard from that thought.
“Good morning, bunny. She’s on her way back from her mom’s. Wanna wait inside?” he cocks his head toward the house and you immediately nod with a soft giggle that just goes straight to Ari’s dick. More so when you attempt to climb the fence right there to go over his side of the property. Ari drops everything in his arms and jogs up to where you struggling.
The skirt of your dress gets caught on the pointy ends of the fence and pulls down to expose your breasts. You squeal and pull the fabric until Ari wraps his arm around your waist while the other tugs the dress free. Your chest was directly on his face and the temptation to suck on your soft peaks almost over took until you spoke and he puts you back down in front of him. The tip of your shoes and his toes were touching as you pull your dress back up like you weren’t flashing anyone.
“Thank you! I used to do that easily, you know? You’d think that once I grew bigger I’d be able to just hop right over.” You giggle and make a small hopping motion that shakes your breasts. Ari’s hand reaches over and cups one of them, thumb rubbing small circles on your nipple until it pebbles. You look at him quizzically before he realizes what he was doing, clearing his throat followed by a disclaimer, “leaf stain from the bushes”, and pulling his sinning hand away while you think nothing of it, skipping towards his house. Ari adjusts himself and follows after you.
He knew you’d be over that morning, spending the whole day over at his house just like you did a hundred Sundays before. He’d planned for this for a while now as stealing touches from you weren’t enough anymore.
Ari happily takes your form in from the rim of his mug. He’s sipping it, knowing that today was going to be the start of a wonderful summer. So he lied, his daughter wasn’t coming back from staying at his ex-wife’s house. The douche she was dating was taking them to a cabin in Aspen or something and won’t be back until next week.
That would be plenty of time to mold you into craving him.
He’d spoil you and shower you in all you deserve. He knows your parents didn’t give you more than you’d needed and anything you wanted you had to work for. The thought has him fully hard now, imagining you wearing just the jewelry he’d gift you and nothing else. Once Ari makes you his, you’d never want for anything. He’ll make sure of that.
And then he’ll reward you every day. He’d pepper your face with kisses every minute and fill you up on the hour. He’d take you on every surface of the house, make you stain everything so that he’d finally have a reason to throw out all his ex’s chosen furniture—buy new ones and mark them again of you and him.
He smiles as you hum a song while inhaling the pancakes he made, the ones you liked specifically. Extra everything on top just for you. You accidentally make eye contact with him just as he rubs the front of his shorts and you gasp while your mouth is full.
You choke on your food a bit, punching your chest until it goes down, and gulping the glass of milk he’d given you.
“You okay?” He approaches with a worried expression on his face and it makes your heart flutter. You’ve always found his protective ways and attention endearing, causing tingles to bloom in the space between your legs. You sit straighter and nod at him, batting your eyelashes unconsciously.
“Yes, my throat’s just a little itchy.” You rub your neck with your fingers, hoping it would go away soon. You can’t tell him the truth: you choked because you’ve been feeling tingles whenever you looked at him. No, you couldn’t. He was your best friend’s dad and that would be wrong, right? Unfortunately, the way Ari was looking at you right at this moment was not good for your heart as it beats turn erratic and your breaths shallow.
“Is that right? Well, can’t let my favorite girl be sick now, can I?” he opens a cabinet and pulls out a jar of honey before he takes the seat beside you. His legs in the perfect height to just sit comfortable on the tall chair while yours dangled above the floor. Ari grabs the stool and pulls it back from the counter then towards him. He slots his long thick legs between yours, effectively spreading the hem of your skirt, pulling it up your thighs and exposing your cherry printed cotton panties underneath.
“Open up, bunny. Let daddy see what’s wrong.” You shake your head in defiance, too shy to have him poke around your mouth. However, the way he just called himself daddy had your special parts tingling, causing you to squirm on your seat as he pinches your chin toward him. When you shake your head again, Ari opens the jar of honey and dips two fingers inside. The sweet treat dripping off his thick digits as he directs it towards you. “Come on, sweetie. Say ahh.”
Enticed by the honey, you lean forward and open your mouth widely with an ‘ahh’ sound, doe eyes peering up at Ari beneath your lashes. The burly man feels himself tighten in his lounge shorts as you do, patience by a hair’s width at the prospect of shoving his painfully hard cock into your mouth.
“Stick your tongue out, bunny… There we go,” the second your pink tongue exits your mouth, Ari places his honey coated fingers on them, gently rubbing the bumpy surface until the amber liquid spreads all over it. He sees down your mouth and his dick twitches when he sees the inside pinkishly healthy. He hums and rubs the insides of your cheeks making your drool gather at the sides of your open lips.
As soon as the first drop of spit lands on his knee, Ari groans in delight, pushing his fingers to the back until he touches your throat. You make a gagging nose and he tuts, “Breathe through your nose, sweet girl. Let me do my work, okay?”
Your muffled okay pushes more spit onto his fingers as he thrusts them languidly in and out of you. Ari growls when you close your lips momentarily to reel in the spills, sucking on his fingers by accident. His left hand cups your jaw and pulls you right in front of his face. Your eyes widen at the sudden show of his strength and you squirm on your seat again which Ari does not fail to notice.
“That’s right, bunny. Suck on my fingers, okay? Just like that—good girl. Doin’ so good,” he pushes inside again and you gag louder. He pulls his fingers out your mouth and a torrent of your saliva escapes your lips, trickling down your chin and throat. Ari pulls your mouth wider when he pushes in three fingers and hooks them to your cheeks, massaging the walls with slow thrusts until you found yourself breathing harder.
You moan involuntarily when you suck on his thick soaked fingers, enjoying the mixture of the taste of honey and his skin. Your skin grows hotter when you stare into his effervescent blues that had thinned out as his eyes are blow with desire. You try to say his name as he pulls more spit out of your mouth. The front of your dress now soaked through, exposing your pebbled peaks as the fabric goes transparent.
Ari knees jerk you more open when you grab at his wrists, directing him inside your mouth. The noises you made plus the fact that you were now the one setting his pace almost made him bust in his shorts. He couldn’t help himself anymore and snakes his free hand under your skirt, rubbing you over your soaked panties until you gyrate yourself against him. The warmth in your core matched the hotness of your mouth and with just a couple of quick rubs you find yourself on the precipice of pleasure. When Ari pushes your button while simultaneously hitting the back of your throat, you come with a loud shout.
Ari releases your mouth and clamps his wet hand on your shoulder to anchor you to the bar stool while his other hand rubs at you methodically to prolong your pleasure. You wriggle off your seat until you throw yourself at him just to make him stop. When he finally relents, both of you are left catching your breaths loudly.
“Am—I’m not sick, right Mr. Levinson?” you pant against the skin of his shoulder as you try to regain your bearings, wiping your drool on him.
Ari sighs then grins, cupping your face with both his hands. “I’m not sure, bunny. I have to check other places to be sure. I’ll use the same method with your pretty mouth on your pretty pussy.” You swallow and try to close your legs but fail. “And then, I’ll use my tongue to double check.”
The heel of your foot digs into the muscle of Ari’s back as he draws out another orgasm from you. He had lifted you up on the breakfast counter and laid you out before him. Your breasts have been pushed out of your dress while your underwear dangles from your other ankle, wet and ruined from the magic of his touch.
Your right hand pulls on Ari’s hair as he coos at your flooded cunt. One more, bunny. Just one more. Gotta make sure you’re ready. He said that two climaxes ago when he started to scissor you open. He’s three fingers deep now with his beard soaked and stained from your juices. The sound of your pussy should be embarrassing as he pumps you with his dexterous digits.
“No more—“
You bite on your left hand’s knuckles trying to even out your breathing but it becomes an almost impossible task when your head swims in ecstasy. You feel sleepy, content, relieved—but somehow there’s a ghost of a feeling that you wanted more.
Ari kisses your inner thigh before he finally emerges from between your legs.
“So fucking sweet, bunny.” He caresses your face, leaning down to kiss you on the lips. His tongue giving you a taste of your own essence. You hum when he takes over the kiss, tongue powerful yet syrupy; domineering but patient. “Can’t wait to finally claim this pussy. My pussy.”
You smile through his kisses as he moves south again. Your mind foggy as the pleasure knocks you out. You hum and concede, your plans for the day forgotten as Ari lifts you up against him.
summary : the “right person, wrong time” kind of chaos decided it wasn’t done with him – it hadn’t really started, after all. It wanted him to feel in a way that not even Plato could immortalize the kind of punishment Zeus would strike down on him for feeling he deserved again. It was starved of a beginning, of a place in Jack’s life.
pairing : jack abbot x f!reader
words : 2.2k~
themes/warnings : MINORS DNI/DNR. Loads, and I’m talking LOADS of hurt before the comfort that follows, Age gap relationship (reader starts off in her 20s & jack in his 30s, progresses to late 20s/early 30s & jack in his 40s), implications of power imbalance, inappropriate workplace feelings, heavily implied emotional infidelity, actual infidelity (not from Jack or reader), mentions of grief/death/being widowed, religious/mythology references & allegory, mentions of mental/emotional health issues, jealousy, misunderstanding because two idiots are in love with each other, miscommunication because said idiots do not communicate with each other, mentions of therapy and medication, conflicting feelings about having/wanting children and being married, jack is so down *bad* for you like he just wants to give you the world, eventual smut maybe idk yet, Shen is a bestie ™ , reader has some specific / non North American characteristics / cultural references, but anyone is welcome to read!
p.s: if I see you reposting, stealing, feeding my FICS into AI or some other fuck shit, don’t. 👀🫵🏽
note : wow a mostly fully outlined fic is in the works. So far I’ve messily outline 5 parts. Thank you sosososososo much to @slyyywriting @celestianstars for proof reading. Also, @abbotjack you made a post asking to be emotionally endangered with anything jack related…okhereyougobyeeeeee
Jack never really had to think about the phrase “right person, wrong time”.
He thought he had “right person, right time” figured out, until life decided it wasn’t really going to be fair and vanish the floor out from under his feet.
The grief still keeps up with its daily appointments, reminding him it still exists with each prescription and psych appointment he has.
That he, after losing more than just part of his leg, now has to learn how to exist as only himself with his heart missing as well. It still is, or was, some days. He was still trying to figure that part out.
Medicine was his only purpose now. Has been for a long time. Only the chaos is different now – more controlled, predictable.
The “right person, wrong time” kind of chaos decided it wasn’t done with him – it hadn’t really started, after all. It wanted him to feel in a way that not even Plato could immortalize the kind of punishment Zeus would strike down on him for feeling he deserved again. It was starved of a beginning, of a place in Jack’s life.
His life decides he needs it now– the chaos night you start shifts with him; you transferred starting in your last year of residency, some 400 something miles east of Pittsburgh, chasing a purpose, a challenge, an ideal.
Dana loves you instantly, and much to Jack’s chagrin, you find a camaraderie in Dr. Shen in between iced coffee runs and bad jokes while charting.
Jack often sees you arrive a little while before he does, chatting it up with the nurses in the break room over the latest episode of British Bake Off, or huddling over a shared plate of pansit on the nights no one ever dares to call it the Q-word. Other nights, it’s steamy plates of your carbonara on the nights no one ever wants to label the S-word.
You’ve always offered when he walks by, but he simply shakes his head and mumbles a gentle thank you.
It fascinates him, the way you’re close with everyone. He’s close with Dana and Robby, but you are something else entirely different to him – professional, and enthusiastic to learn from anything Jack had to say keeps a safe enough distance from either of you reaching for anything more than an easy going working relationship.
The distance also exists as the ring that he wears, and so do you, in a necklace tucked under your scrubs – as the love he’s afraid will die a second death if he doesn’t hold on to the last memory he has, and the one that had just been borne to you.
He’s easily got at least a decade and change on you. It’s not appropriate, he knows. He’s pushing forty something, your attending, and you’re his newly minted resident in her twenties. Barely having started living life.
Jack thinks you’re too sweet sometimes. A lot of the time, really. It’s the way your face warms up when he looks directly at your eyes when he asks you why you make a decision or a give a dosage, or the way your nose sweats a little when he compliments you on a job well done.
Yet he admires it all the same, especially when he sees how you are with the oldest and the smallest patients.
Especially with the smallest ones that came in crying and left happy after dealing with a hair tourniquet on a nine month old’s little thumb. The parent thanks you with a watery laugh and a smile, and the baby squawks happily when you magic a small toy from the hospital’s gift shop from your scrubs pocket and pretend to make it sing.
He does not, can not, let himself dream about something far more dangerous than being shot at. It felt like a betrayal to the memory of a life and a love he barely got to live.
—
He doesn’t remember exactly when it happens or what you said, but you had opened up his chest in a pseudo emotional thoracotomy and burrowed yourself into his heart just by being you, if only to mend whatever he had left of it from the inside.
Night by night, case by case, guidance on your research in exchange for the good protein bars from Shen’s secret snack stash only you knew about.
Jack feels it ardently when you’re performing an actual thoracotomy under his guidance. Lithe fingers slicing and examining a bloodied heart.
His throat just aboutdries up when you look at him - not because it disgusts him (he’s seen far, far worse) , but seeing how you maneuvered someone’s thoracic cavity and their heart was like feeling it in his own, slowly being fixed by you, being examined for further damage that could be fixed.
“You knew exactly what you were doing,” he says after the patching up is done and he looks at you with blood smeared all over his gloved hands.
“Yeah, you think so, Doc?” You ask in a hushed tone, eyes glistening with enthusiasm and adrenaline.
His heart knows he shouldn't like it, the way it looks when you’re coming down from the high of saving a life while blood is smeared all over you.
Jack huffs out a laugh, shaking his head and looking at you with admiration and disbelief at your own fearlessness when breaking someone’s chest open, “Take the win. Besides, it was far too risky to do it by myself.”
You don’t immediate catch the way the timbre of his voice drops as he says it, but the look in his eyes gives it away mostly, and it leaves you feeling baffled by his praise for the first time.
“..what?” Your lips tug awkwardly, not knowing how to react or what to do, especially not with bloody PPE that has definitely been soaked all the way through.
—
Somehow, there’s a closeness between you that follows. Of things left unsaid yet understood. Often silently working like a well oiled machine, a singular unit perfectly in sync while caring for a patient, affirming your decisions and you wordlessly predicting what he needed in the ER.
When Robby had asked Jack who he would recommend as a fellow out of your group, he didn’t think twice when he said your name.
“She’s the smartest one out of all of us,” he’d once said to Robby while nursing a doordash order on the roof , “this hospital would be stupid not to keep her.”
He’d certainly be for not advocating for the best resident he’s had in years.
Robby had recommended Shen. Not because he didn’t like you or because he didn’t think you were capable. But reading Jack’s glowing recommendation about you only affirmed what he suspected. Time would only tell if Jack himself could see beyond his own words.
Shen stretches out a hand, blindly sipping on his coffee as Robby and Dana slip him a $50 bill each the next time they’re in front of the betting board.
—
Jack finds himself lingering, feeling a little more, without knowing how or when – only that he does, and you exist in him long after the sun has gone up and the moon has gone down.
The corners of his lips tug in a secret smile, as his nose is able to catch the whiff of your perfume and your own smell whenever he helps tie your surgical gown and you help with his.
He tries, he really does try to ignore the feeling that burrows itself deep whenever you pat his back after helping him tie on the surgical gown.
Your hands always lingered a little longer than they should, like a balm to soothe his aches, as if to tell him - “I have you. I’m here. You’re okay.”
Jack finds it easier to sleep in his bed on the days that you do, as if your touch carries him all the way to safety, away from sand & heat and the phantom burn he still felt in his leg.
On those nights, he dreams of a feeling that only wakes when he’s not.
—
The two of you never, ever fought. Disagreements? Sure. Difference of opinion only to arrive at the same answer? Definitely.
Jack knows that that’s what he likes about you since you came on several months ago. You’re definitely the favorite out of all the residents he’s taught. The prodigal resident that was never afraid to ask why decisions were being made.
It’s what makes you an excellent doctor in his eyes, noticing things that people often don’t. It was easier for him to teach a resident that was self confident but not arrogant, and unafraid to get their hands bloody.
But your fearlessness was something he didn’t like if it involved you making a decision that put you at risk.
Sure, he’d sometimes find it funny when you were the only one to vocally tell Gloria to fuck off when she knew fuck all about being on the front lines after she denied yet another increase in security (until then, no one had ever heard you drop so many f-bombs - Jack couldn’t not laugh when he was there to witness Robby’s eyebrows all but fly to his hairline when it happened). No one but Robby ever did that (less riddled with cuss words), everyone else simply ignored what she said.
Hell, you’d even ignore what Jack would say sometimes in light hearted, less life or death situations.
But this? It was never, never this – making a decision of this magnitude without consulting him on something you’d ever only seen him do once.
“You should’ve never, ever done that by yourself.” His eyes are full of bewilderment at the mess that he had walked into as the patient is rushed to OR 1 upstairs.
“Yeah, well, I did what you taught me to do – if I waited any longer for you to tell me what to do the patient would’ve fucking bled out!”
It’s the first time the two of you ever got into an argument. The two of you never, ever argued especially not in the middle of a literal bloody mess where everyone could see and hear. But your patience was worn past thin and your fucks had long flown out the window.
“I’m your attending, that’s not the kind of decision a resident gets to make on their own!”
Jack isn’t prepared for the way you all but stomp your foot on the pedal of the biohazard bin, practically shoving your bloodied scrubs and gloves into the damn thing. Nor is he prepared for the way you point at him furiously with your left hand, where he sees the thin band of silver taunting him.
He is not a religious man, but in that moment he knows he became a martyr for a love that could never be worshipped like he used to know how to do.
“You do not get to pull rank on me!” Your voice is loud, and you’re well past the point of giving a fuck after the way your life in and out of this hospital has been lately. “I may be younger than you, Dr. Abbot, but I’m not fucking stupid!”
“That was not the standard of care.” His voice drops, full of warning as he looks directly at you. For the first time in years, the tinnitus in his ears re-emerges as his eyes flit between your face and your hand. “You’re lucky that it’s something I’m not reporting.”
He regrets it the instant he sees the way the shock on your face melts into disenchantment, and the bile burns at his throat when he sees the way light leaves your eyes.
It's the first time in a long time he wished he’d rather fall on a sword, rather than ever see that look again.
The look that told him what everyone else could see between you – that you were to Jack what Psyche was to Eros.
That you cared about him and what he had to say in a way that was more than appropriate.
Your chest heaves as you look at him, eyes riddled with a rage that squeezes in his heart. His eyes zero in on the ring again as you rub your face, hair wild in all directions from the braid it was in.
“Well fuck the standard of care, and fuck you for making me feel like shit.”
The smallness and the vulnerability in your voice hits Jack squarely where it hurts, in the places where you had started to carefully stitch the broken pieces of him back together.
“Take a bre–”
The words die on his lips as you shoulder past him, shoving the door open and knob rattling as you let it go to storm your way out and past the nurses station and down the hall.
That night, a patient’s heart was saved at the expense of two.
May I ask what happened about the oversteer series that you wrote with Bucky the one about F1!au? Since i couldnt open it. Tks for answering and good day to you!
hi there! I checked and the fic is still up. maybe fumblr is glitching again. im using mobile so idk if this will work but i pasted the link below ♥️
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