Hii, i love your fanfic. I just want to request jack abbot having his pregnant wife comes to er because shes craving the hospital food, wants to add something that his wife is pregnant with twins so she look really pregnant
💞Tags/Warnings💞: Fluff, slight age-gap, pouty!Reader x AttentiveHusband!Jack Abbot
💞Plot💞: When Y/N shows up in the ER at 1am, she causes a bit of a stir. But it’s a complete misunderstanding..
💞Characters💞: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader
💞Title💞: Momma Abbot
💞A/N💞: Love a good “pregnancy AU” 🤭 Hope you enjoy!
((Requests are ALWAYS open))
Masterlist
“Alright!” Jack claps his hands once, getting up from the bed to put the lotion away. “Feet are rubbed, favorite show is on,” He says slowly, going through the checklist in his head as Y/N rubs her stomach lazily, eyeing her dork of a husband.
“Night is approaching…” Jack continues, voice going softer as he walks back over to the bed.
“Mm.. The peanuts want something sweet.” Y/N announces as her husband effortlessly moves the bedsheets on her to tuck her in. It was rapidly approaching 9pm, and Jack had a deal going with Robby. He’d be able to come in at 9:30pm instead of 7pm every night, as long as he wasn’t a minute late.
“Oh yeah?” He smirks a bit. “Let me ask them what they want..” He says and playfully leans over to her stomach, placing his ear against her six month belly.
“Yeah? Huh..” He says quietly as if his kids are talking to him. Y/N stiffens a giggle. “Okay, I’ll tell her.” He whispers to her stomach before looking up at her. “They say they’re okay with ice cream.” He bargains. She snorts.
“That’s not what they’re telling me..” She jokes back. “They’re saying they really want those.. Chocolate chip cookies? From the hospital cafeteria..” She says hopefully. Jack groans at that jokingly.
“I will… Snag a couple while I’m on shift.” He assures as he climbs into bed to hold her. He wanted to come in later because he always wanted to be around to hold Y/N till she fell asleep.
“Promise?” Y/N whispers as she snuggles into his toned chest. He chuckles quietly.
“You will wake up to those cookies, Darlin. Swear on a stack of bibles…” He states gently before kissing her temple.
*
*
*
“Alright, night crawlers!” Jack begins as he steps out of a trauma room. “Give me some..” He proudly celebrates at the most recent save. Shen and Mateo are fast to high five him, riding the high as well.
“Tonight’s moving smooth.” Mateo sighs as if relieved.
“Like butter, my main man.” Shen brags playfully. “Real quiet-“ Jack is quick to slingshot a glove at Shen, hitting him on the shoulder.
“We’re not jinxing this. I’d like to be home on time to wake my wife up..” Jack says firmly as Shen stiffens a laugh, throwing his hands up in surrender.
“Got it, got it. No one mention anything.” Shen teases as he walks off to check on other patients with Mateo following in tow.
Jack sighs heavily, moving to lean against the nurses station. “Still standing, solider?” Lena Handzo teases as she looks him up and down from over her reading glasses. Wordlessly, Jack puts up a thumb. Lena chuckles at that.
Jack looks up and eyes the clock on the wall. 1:15am. “This is great practice for when the twins show up.” Jack notes playfully after a moment, and Lena shakes her head in playful disbelief.
“I still can’t believe that happened. What are the chances?!” She laughs.
“I’m just that good..” Jack smirks proudly, making Lena swat at him lightly with her clipboard. Jack laughs before he spots the new fourth-year emergency medicine resident from the corner of his eye.
“Dr. Henderson. Going on break?” He calls to the calm, cool, and collected young man.
“That’s the plan. 15.” Crus assures with a short nod, making Jack give him a halfhearted salut back as a goodbye.
As Crus walks out of the ED, he spots a woman waddling down the long hallway, one hand on her stomach while the other is firmly against the wall. She stops moving after a few more steps, breathing deeply through her nose before moving some more. “Shoot.” He says to himself before he rushes over.
“Ma’am! Hold on now!” He calls, making the woman stop. She turns to face him, leaning her back against the hallway wall, both hands now going under her stomach that looks about eight months along. She’s panting softly, looking exhausted.
“I’ve got you, ma’am.” He assures fast and she looks up at him in confusion.
“Wha..?” She asks, completely lost as she still tries to get her second wind. He moves to grab a wheelchair that was left astray beside a couple of vending machines.
“Let’s get you to a room.” He says already motioning for her to sit down.
“I.. No, I… Cafe.” The woman tries as Crus quickly ushers her into the seat anyways. She can’t move away from him because honestly the wheelchair looks inviting after all the walking she’s done.
“Let’s get you checked.” He says, thinking this is the night he delivers his first ‘ER Baby’.
“Hey! Wait!” The woman finally manages to let out between more even breaths as he pushes her forward and into the ER, away from the cafeteria doors that were so close…
“Got a could be Active Labor..” He calls out, making the woman’s eyes widen.
“What?!” She says as she holds on to her stomach now. Lena looks over along with Dr. Parker Ellis, both women paling at the sight of the woman in the chair.
“Oh… Uh…” Lena pauses slightly, thinking tonight’s the night. “Y/N, honey, you okay? Room 3.” She orders as she rushes over to help.
“Oh shit.” Ellis mutters quietly, running to find Abbot.
“Hey! Wait! I’m okay!” Y/N rushes out as they get her into the room.
Jack stands in the break room, somewhat overhearing the commotion, but shrugging it off because his coffee was almost fully brewed anyways. Shen is walking past, and curiosity gets the better of him.
“Shen!” He calls out. The other man stops his movements, nodding for Jack to continue as he steps into the break room doorway.
“What’s going on down the hall?” Jack asks.
“Uh.. I think Crus found some lady in active labor in the hallway?” Shen says. “She walked herself all the way here, is what I’m hearing.” He continues, giving a look to show that’s the most badass thing he’s ever heard. Jack pauses in surprise, a bit impressed too.
“Now who the hell lets a pregnant woman travel Pittsburgh all alone at night?” Jack shakes his head in judgment. Shen shrugs, stepping out of the room just as Ellis runs in.
“Abbot.” She says, eyes showing panic. Jack straightens up at that.
Without another word shared, Jack follows Ellis towards room 3. He’s quick to put on gloves, preparing his mental for whatever awaited him beyond that threshold. Walking into the room though, his shoulders slump at what’s in front of him.
Y/N.
“Huh. Apparently I let a pregnant woman travel Pittsburgh all alone at night…” He mutters to himself, walking in fully as Lena and Crus stand aside now, having been assured by Y/N that she was not about to pop any time soon.
“Hi, honey…” Y/N sighs.
“Honey?” Crus asks as he looks between Y/N and Jack.
“Dr. Henderson, meet.. My beautiful wife.” Jack says gently as he smiles at a bashful Y/N.
“Oh. Congratulations, Dr. Abbot.” Crus chuckles a bit as Lena crosses her arms while giving Y/N a playful glare over the scare she’d caused.
“I didn’t know you were in labor..” Jack continues softly as Y/N smiles sheepishly.
“Neither did I..” She jokes quietly.
“I may have been… A bit overzealous in my actions.” Crus admits softly. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Abbot.” He adds politely. Y/N smiles warmly at the resident.
“Don’t be. At least now I know the response time is good here.” She teases a bit as she rubs her stomach.
“Very assuring.” Jack nods before crossing his arms at his wife. “What are you doing here?” He asks as if that’s the golden question. Y/N smiles innocently.
“The cookies.” She says and Jack shuts his eyes to keep from laughing at the situation.
“Did.. Did she just say cookies?” Ellis asks slowly, eyeing the room to see if everyone heard the same thing. Jack pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head as Lena smiles while watching the couple.
“Let’s give them some space…” Lena whispers to Crus and Ellis. They all step out and only then does Jack shut the hospital room door to give them some much needed quiet and privacy.
“You showed up here at one in the morning for cookies!?” He asks finally.
“Hey! I tried just sleeping and waiting till the morning, but the peanuts! They wouldn’t let me get comfy!” She says back in a tone that resinates a ‘I’m just as mad as you are!’ vibe.
“You walked all the way here?” Jack asks, tone quiet, but Y/N knows that’s a falsehood. He’s getting mad.
Y/N knew her husband. That man took nothing, but her safety and health, seriously. He got shot at? It happens. Didn’t eat all day long because he was too busy? Oh well. But have Y/N stub a toe or, god forbid, accidentally get a cut? Oh, it was the end of his world.
“It’s a nice night. Plus we live close.” She defends quietly, knowing she’s messed up.
“Y/N!” Jack begins.
“Hey!” She quickly states. “Okay, I didn’t really think it through. I… Thought the walking and the fresh air would do me some good. But…” She sighs.
Might as well admit to everything..
“I forgot my maternity support belt..” She mutters. No wonder Crus thought she was in labor, Y/N had walked four blocks with no support for her stomach. She’d been out of breath and exhausted by the time she got here..
“Oh, I’m gonna have you locked to our damn bed…” Jack says quietly mostly to himself as he rubs his face yet again, pacing a bit.
“Okay, okay. It was stupid. But I just.. I really couldn’t sleep…” Y/N pouts up at her husband, giving her best puppy dog look. Jack slows his pacing, sighing deeply as he slowly moves closer to her bed side. “I’m okay now…” She points out softly as she grabs his hand with both of hers, slightly twirling his gold band like she always does.
Jack curses quietly. When she pulled out that pout, he couldn’t be mad for long.
“You know you nearly gave everybody on this floor a heart attack?” Jack mutters after a moment of just watching her hands on his. Y/N smiles at the calmness before she shrugs sheepishly.
“Hey. If anything else, I’m the victim in all this..” She points out softly.
“You?!” Jack laughs in disbelief.
“I was promised something..” She defends innocently as Jack raises an eyebrow at his wife’s logic.
“Oh?” He asks in humor. Y/N nods, standing by her statement.
“I wasn’t even gonna come in here! I was gonna…” She pauses, shifting a bit in the hospital bed. “Bribe the cafeteria staff myself.” She admits finally.
Jack lets out a deep breath. This night just keeps getting better for him. “You would’ve never known..” she shrugs, sticking to the notion that she had a great plan.
“Y/N…” Jack sighs as he shakes his head. “What am I gonna do with you, hm?” He asks quietly after a moment of looking at her softly. She blushes at the tone of his warm voice.
“Take responsibility?” She offers gently.
“Responsibility?!” Jack scoffs playfully. “Of what?” He challenges as she sits up more, wordlessly motioning towards her stomach.
“You’re kidding. Me?!” Jack jokingly bickers.
“Yes, you! You with all your little sweet talk.” Y/N fusses playfully.
“‘Oh, Y/N let’s just see what happens, let’s just go with the flow. We’re on our anniversary vacation’…” She mocks his ‘bedroom voice’, making Jack smirk at the memories.
“Okay…” He mutters playfully as if not buying it. His arms cross over his chest as he watches his wife with humor in his adoring eyes.
“I was an innocent passenger in your evil plan…” She states bluntly. Jack laughs at the accusation, grabbing at the edge of her bed to lean over more.
“Oh, baby, you were a willing participant in it..” He corrects quietly, close to her ear. It makes her shiver slightly. His usual sandalwood scent from his aftershave invades her nostrils as she eyes the way his arms flex.
“Same thing…” She mumbles shyly now as he pulls back to eye her, their faces inches apart. She sighs softly as she really looks at him.
“I’m sorry.” She finally says, letting the jokes and taunts fall to the wayside. She had a moment of pregnancy brain, really. Thinking she could walk about without a care.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve made sure those damn cookies were in your hands the second you asked for them.” He says gently, making Y/N smile. She grabs his face in both hands, kissing him sweetly. He melts into the affection almost instantly.
They’re pulled apart by a knock on the hospital door. Turning their attention towards it, Lena walks in with a little hospital tray. “Somebody ordered a snack?” She asks softly and Y/N gasps happily, quickly sitting up more and lightly pushing Jack out of the way. He takes no offense to it, chuckling as he sees how excited his wife gets.
“You’re lucky I know people.” Lena jokes as she hands over the tray.
“Ugh! Thank you, Lena!” Y/N groans happily as she digs in without hesitation.
“Whatever Momma Abbot wants..” Lena declares lightheartedly with a simple shrug before leaving the room again so they can be alone.
“Mm… So warm…” Y/N mumbles as she takes a bigger bite of the cookie. She breaks off a piece to feed to Jack who gratefully opens his mouth for the small chunk. He kisses her thumb as she pulls her hand away, making her smile.
“Good?” Y/N asks as Jack nods in agreement. “I told you! Best cookies in Pittsburgh..” She says as Jack chuckles while shaking his head in amusement.
“I’m glad you’re having fun..” Jack begins as Y/N does a happy little dance in the hospital bed at the great cookies in front of her. “Because you’re staying here till I’m done with my shift.” He continues, making Y/N pause her movements.
“What?!” She complains.
“Yup. Then I’m getting your butt back in bed when we get home..” Jack says simply. Y/N pouts a bit, opening her mouth to debate him on that only to have him place another cookie in her mouth. She gives him a dirty look, but begrudgingly enjoys the cookie.
“Fine..” She mumbles between chewing before eyeing the cookie in her hand. “Mm.. Baby?” She asks innocently. Jack hums. “You know what would go great with these cookies?” She asks hopefully. Jack smirks knowingly.
“Peanut butter?” He guesses tenderly and she giggles giddily, nodding fast. “On it.” He assures.
“Mm… You’re so good to me…” Y/N states in mock awe, sighing dreamily with a hand on her chest as Jack chuckles.
can be read alone or part as a series. PART ONE HERE. FLUFF!!!!!! jack crying. preg! reader. jack will love you and the baby 4ever. thank you to @you-go-too-slow-for-me for the idea of jack staying up and researching baby info lol.
“we’re having a baby?” his voice is barely above a whisper.
you nod again, already crying yourself.
he cups your face with both hands before resting his forehead against yours. “we’re having a baby,” he repeats, sounding completely awestruck.
after that moment of telling jack you are pregnant, life becomes one long planning session. your calendar fills with prenatal appointments. jack somehow finds every highly-rated obstetrician within fifty miles.
he starts reading pregnancy books during his lunch breaks. you catch him researching car seat safety at two in the morning. “jack.”
he doesn’t even look up from his laptop. “mhm?”
“i’m only eight weeks pregnant.” you tell him softly.
“i know.”
“why are you reading about toddler nutrition? you have over 80 items in the amazon basket already..”
“…planning ahead.”
you laugh. “you’re impossible.”
“i’m prepared.” he counter argues.
one evening, you’re both curled up on the couch, surrounded by baby name books.
jack has a notebook. of course he has a notebook. he’s ranking names. with categories.
“you made a spreadsheet.”
he doesn’t even look guilty. “there are a lot of options.”
you lean over his shoulder. “…you gave names numerical scores.”
“it’s objective.”
“love, you cannot objectively score a baby name.”
he circles one anyway. “i disagree.”
you steal his pen. he steals it back.
an hour later you’ve made absolutely no progress.
“do you want a boy or a girl?” you ask quietly.
jack pauses. he sets the notebook down. “healthy.”
“that’s not what i asked.”
he smiles softly. “i know.”
you wait. he sighs.
“…i’ll be happy with either.”
“jack.”
he looks away for a second before admitting, almost sheepishly “…i’ve always pictured a little girl.”
your heart melts. “a daddy’s girl?”
he smiles. “maybe.”
you reach over and lace your fingers through his. “i’ve always pictured you as a girl dad.”
he laughs quietly. “yeah?” he squeezes your hand. “i really don’t care.” his thumb brushes across your knuckles. “boy or girl… as long as they’re healthy.” he looks at you. “and as long as you’re okay.”
the first ultrasound comes quicker than either of you expects. you’re lying on the examination table while jack sits beside you, one hand wrapped tightly around yours.
for the first time since finding out, he looks nervous. really nervous. not doctor nervous. dad nervous.
the sonographer smiles. “ready?”
you both nod. cool gel spreads across your stomach. the room falls quiet. the screen flickers.
then— there.
tiny. so impossibly tiny. your baby.
you gasp. jack forgets to breathe.
“there’s your little one,” the sonographer says warmly.
you can feel jack’s grip tighten around your hand. he’s staring at the monitor like the rest of the world has ceased to exist. then the room fills with a sound. fast. steady. perfect.
your baby’s heartbeat.
for a second, neither of you says anything.
jack’s head drops. you glance over. he’s crying. completely, openly crying. his shoulders shake once as he laughs through it.
“…that’s…” he can’t finish the sentence.
you’ve never seen him speechless before.not once.
the sonographer quietly continues taking measurements, giving the two of you the space to take it all in.
jack finally leans over and presses a trembling kiss against your forehead. “thank you,” he whispers.
your eyes fill again. “for what?”
he rests one hand gently over yours on your stomach. “for giving me this.” his voice cracks. “i already love them.”
another heartbeat echoes through the room. fast. strong. real.
jack stares at the screen with the softest expression you’ve ever seen. then he looks at you.
“i’m going to love this baby for the rest of my life.” his hand finds yours again. “and i’m going to love you for even longer.”
you laugh through your tears. “that’s… literally impossible.”
he smiles, brushing his thumb across your knuckles. “then i’ll just have to spend every day proving it.”
and somewhere on the monitor, your tiny little baby gives the smallest wiggle. jack’s eyes immediately snap back to the screen. “…did you see that?”
you laugh. “i think they’re saying hi.”
he grins, tears still shining in his eyes. "hi, baby.” his voice is impossibly gentle. “daddy’s here.”
summary: once dating life is off the table, you still desperately want a child with someone. you decide to turn to your friend for help.
content: friends to lovers, pregnancy, probably medical inaccuracies, pet names, domestic, work romance, care taking, fluff, praise, comfort, no use of y/n, night shift and a little of day shift
word count: 5k
author’s note: i’m posting this draft as a come back post after my absence. i know it’s shitty, don’t hate me!!
take a look at my masterlist and join my taglist here!
offer
“and why not you?” you proposed to jack, making him almost spill his beer out of his mouth.
“me?” he repeated to make sure he didn’t hallucinate what he just heard.
you were looking through profiles of sperm donors the hospital gave you, so you invited your friend to help you choose the father of your future child. it felt like it was too important to do it alone.
“i really thought i’d be okay with a stranger, but i can’t do it. what if he’s a horrible person and gives the genes to my kid?”
he chuckled at the crazy scenario before thinking about what you just said. “i’m not sure that i’m up for it, honestly.”
“okay, but can you think about it? we get along really well, and you’d have some sort of legacy.”
“i’ll think about it, but if we do that, i have a condition.”
you furrowed your brows, intrigued to learn what it was.
“i want to be a dad, not a sperm bank.”
“so we would coparent?”
“yes, we could share custody,” he suggested, being a little too obvious about the fact that he’d like it.
you paused for a moment before continuing. “i have an oil change to do on my car monday. you’ll give me a ride to work, and we’ll talk about it.”
he nodded in agreement to your plan. he’d think about if he really wanted a child with someone who wasn’t his deceased wife, and you’d think about if you wanted to coparent.
──୨୧──
jack and you met when you transferred to ptmc after moving to pittsburgh. it was closer to your family, and you needed their support after a long relationship that disgusted you from the dating life forever.
there was a spot for a nighttime attending in pediatrics that waited for you. you felt honored to be chosen, and you took your job very seriously.
one night, you got called to the emergency department. you hated going there in person. it was lacking the colors of your floor, and it looked way too crowded.
however, you had to put your feelings aside and focus on the child who needed urgent help. he thankfully got stabilized after intense minutes of work on him.
you were always feeling down when you had to perform those big surgeries on tiny humans who didn’t ask for any of that. it was probably noticeable because dr abbot came your way to praise your skills. he was wondering who you were.
“are you new?”
“yes, i just moved back here after a long time away. everything changed so much.”
“i know some nice bars if you need a friend to visit the new spots with,” he proposed with a smile. one of his fingers had a wedding band that encouraged you to believe he didn’t mean more than what he said.
“i’d love that,” you accepted, returning the grin he gave you.
since then, jack and you have become good friends. you invited him over when you had a bad shift, and he did the same.
──୨୧──
it was 6 p.m., and instead of finishing your day of work like most people, you were just starting it.
you received a text from your friend, informing you that he’ll arrive soon. you decided to go breath the air of spring and come outside directly. you needed to find a way to distract yourself and calm your stress. you haven't really talked to him since this last conversation about having his kids.
he parked his car in front of you, and you got in. instead of an awkward moment, he directly started talking like he had rehearsed this moment.
“i thought about it a lot, and i want you to carry our child. i always wanted to have kids, and my life feels pretty empty right now; i could use the space with a little one. if you’re still up for it, of course.”
“yes, i looked into it. we would need a lawyer and a lot of conversations about how we organize our coparenting, but i could work. you’re a great friend, and you’d make an even better father.”
“you’ll be a good mother too. i’ll talk to the hospital’s attorney to get a recommendation for a good lawyer.”
“okay, we’ll have to put in the contract that i want the nursery at my place during the first months.”
“your place is it,” he happily agreed.
reveal
you really wanted it to work on the first try, especially knowing that jack insisted on paying for the whole thing.
you tracked your menstrual cycle very closely and got inseminated with his sperm. he was there for every single appointment with professionals. no matter how tired he was, he’d come to support you.
you officially finished the whole process, and you had to take a test. you went to jack’s place to do it after work.
“okay, it says i need to wait two minutes before looking at it,” you said, reading the instructions to make sure you weren’t missing any step.
“so we wait.”
“i’m really scared it won’t work,” you admitted to him in a small voice.
“worst case scenario, we just do it another time. don’t sweat about it. everything will be okay.”
you flinched when the alarm on your phone announced the end of the wait. you turned the test to reveal two lines.
jack immediately hugged you tightly.
you cried tears of joy. you weren’t in a relationship, but you felt like you were supported enough to go through it all.
first trimester
jack didn’t tell anyone about your plan. the only person who knew was robby. he found the plan admirable. maybe that he would’ve loved to have children in another life.
your breast were so sore all the time that you had a hard time wearing a bra. that’s when dana became the second person in the emergency department to know.
“first trimester?” she asked while looking at the paperwork she needed to complete.
“how did you know?”
“enlarged breasts and practically no bump. i had the same with my first, but the second gave me a bump as soon as i got pregnant," she began, remembering the cherished moment. “who’s the lucky guy?”
“it’s jack. we did this thing called iui. we want to coparent together.”
she looked quite surprised at the news but quickly transformed her open mouth into a grin. “well, i’m glad if it works out!”
“what do you mean by that?”
“pregnancy is a long and intimate process. i’m just saying that feelings could get tangled in there.”
“they won't; dating is out of the window for both of us. i’m not putting myself through that ever again.”
“do what your heart feels like, sweetheart,” she smiled, quietly returning to her paperwork.
you nodded and tried to find jack. he called you to know if you could take someone in pediatrics, but something came up, and he hung up before having the chance to present the case.
he was always coming with you to the doctor appointments you planned every week and checked on you over texts once in a while. other than that, he let you space. it’s not like you were dating or anything.
“hey, you came down? i could’ve called you back.”
“well, you weren’t, so i came,” you dryly replied. “sorry, i’ve been told i’m on edge.”
“it’s common; don’t worry about it,” he immediately reassured before logging on to a computer.
it was a 9-year-old girl, with severe asthma exacerbation. they gave her oxygen, albuterol, and prednisone to stabilize her enough, but she’d need to stay in peds one to three days for monitoring, treatments, and iv meds.
while you read, a nurse opened a tupperware with her lunch, and you got nauseous with the strong smell.
“yeah, we’ll take her,” you mumbled while urgently going to the nearest bathroom.
second trimester
the second trimester came with some perks. you could finally discover the gender of the baby, and your nausea stopped.
every single ultrasound was filled with excitement at the possibility of knowing if it was a girl or a boy.
“i hope it’ll show for this one. some can tell at 18 weeks, and i’m at 20. it’s not fair!” you complained while you rested a hand on your bump that started showing.
“the baby wasn’t positioned well,” he reminded you with one arm on the steering wheel as he drove to the hospital.
the ob-gyn greeted you with a smile. you were a little nervous, so jack couldn’t stop touching you. he had his hands on your nearest shoulder while you lay on the chair with your shirt up. they went to your forearm and your hands too when the doctor took a little too much time talking about how normal it is to not know the gender yet.
“today is the day!” the ob-gyn announced with a smile on her face.
jack looked at the screen with furrowed brows. your face lit up when you saw it. “it’s a girl!” you exclaimed with joy.
he hugged you tightly while peppering kisses on the top of your head.
“we’re having a girl,” he whispered to you with the biggest grin he could physically make.
you left the department together and went to the peds to see your coworkers and friends to tell them the good news. the father of your baby girl stayed behind with a smile plastered on his face. for the biggest flirt of the hospital, jack wasn’t looking at your coworkers much. he mostly looked at you while the girls of your department jumped in excitement.
“oh my god, she will be so cute!” one said while two others were touching your belly.
“i know!” you responded and reached out for jack’s hand to get him closer. “i’m really hungry, so we will go, but thank you for being here.”
they all agreed to let you go and you went to the pitt in the elevator.
“i need a cheeseburger,” you thought out loud with a hand rubbing your belly.
“i’ll get it for you. do you want to go to a restaurant?”
“yes, but i want to go see dana and robby first.”
“don’t overwork yourself, mama. do you feel like seeing them?”
“yes, i want to. we’re having a little girl!”
as the doors of the elevator opened, you both noticed that the er was almost empty.
“what happened?” you asked in surprise at the rare sight.
“i have no idea; it’s either a good or a bad sign.”
dana saw the two of you and yelled at robby to come. the two men dapped up while the nurse leaned on the wall.
“so… do you have good news?”
“we’re having a baby girl!” you happily cheered.
“that’s amazing!” robby said before looking at his friend, who only had you and the baby in his vision.
jack concluded the conversation quickly to get you the cheeseburger you were craving.
he stopped at a fast food place you liked, and you let out a yawn. “can you go in the drive-through? i’m tired.”
“no problemo!” he answered like it was the last of his worries.
he ordered what you wanted and parked in the parking lot for the two of you to eat comfortably.
“so, how is the second trimester treating you?” he wondered after swallowing a bite of burger.
“i’m living my best life. the bump is cute, i don’t get nauseous anymore, and i get horny all of the time.”
he froze at the last part but gathered himself in no time. “well, it’s a common symptom…”
“makes you understand why it’s a thing you do as a couple. i literally cried myself to sleep last night because of how lonely i felt.”
“you feel lonely?”
“yeah, my feelings are all over the place. that’s an annoying part.”
“they’re heightened, not different,” he said before taking fries from his meal. “call me if you need someone. i’m always there, you know?”
third trimester
the final weeks before giving birth were the worst. you were feeling enormous, you were exhausted all the time, and everything was hurting.
jack tried to be more present by texting more, but he was afraid of being overbearing. he never imagined having his first child with someone he wasn’t dating. there was no textbook on how to behave with a friend who was also carrying the daughter he had dearly wanted.
from time to time, he’d come to your place after a shift to help you out with anything you needed.
tonight, he could feel you weren’t feeling well at the hospital, so he invited himself to your place by pretending that he had more decorations to do in the nursery.
you accepted, too exhausted to refuse free labor from him. you could take a nice shower while he prepares a good meal like he usually does.
you got out of the steamy bathroom in your pastel pajama set to eat, but jack’s gaze lowered on your breast. you immediately knew what it meant, and you whined.
“i’ll get you another shirt.”
he headed off right away while you whined. he continued talking from your bedroom as he looked through your drawer to find something new for you. “the hot shower might have stimulated the fluid to leak. is there blood?” he asked with a new pajama shirt in hand.
you stretched out your top’s collar to check the milk leaking out. “nothing bloody, doctor,” you announced before taking the shirt he held. “you know you’ll have to bring some clothes over so you can stay with me when she’s a newborn.”
he nodded, and you simply turned around to change. it’s been a long day; he probably saw many naked women in his life, and you were very close to crashing out over all the discomfort your body was experiencing. once you were completely topless, you felt his gaze piercing through you. even if you focused on the task at hand, it made you feel good in a way to be looked at like this when you felt like a whale.
you looked behind to confirm what you thought. his eyes were on your back.
“why are you staring?” you asked with your new pajama shirt on.
“i can’t look at the woman carrying my baby? harsh, mama,” he teased while fidgeting with his ring.
“you weren’t looking; you were staring. it’s different.”
“you have a nice back,” he finally admitted before placing his hands behind him and straightening his back slightly.
you probably shouldn’t have noticed that, but you saw him assume the same position he just made when he was ordering risky procedures in the er. it was a pose that gave him a certain confidence, maybe.
“shut up, i feel like i’m a whale,” you corrected, showing your swollen hands.
“you’re not; you're beautiful, okay?”
you paused at the compliment. it was known that jack was a flirt. you should’ve joked it off with a quick remark, but you were too stunned to think of one. that’s when you realized that you didn’t need one. he wasn’t trying to make you laugh or even flirt. he just told you because he felt like it.
“can you stay the night?” you blurted out like a teenage girl with a crush.
he answered in a heartbeat. “yes, of course.”
you nodded and went into the kitchen to wash the dishes. whatever could help you escape this awful tension building between the two of you was worth it. however, he placed himself beside you with a towel to help you dry.
you gave him a wet glass, and your fingers almost touched. it’s not like you never touched him; you always did. this time just felt different. maybe it had been different for a while, actually, but you truly felt it at this instant.
his touch got you distracted, or perhaps he was the one who was because a plate fell and broke on the floor as you gave it to him.
he didn’t flinch, too used to the constant, sudden movements and noises of the emergency department. he was calm and unfazed.
“we’re down to three plates,” he stated with a small smirk before picking you up like you weighed nothing and dropping you outside of the kitchen. “i’ll pick it up- fuck, are you okay?”
you suddenly started to cry like a baby. he was so perfect and fatherly. it was so dumb to sob over that when so many women had to deal with the opposite.
you mumbled something he couldn’t really understand, so he just hugged you and rocked you gently to calm you down. “okay, shhh… take deep breaths for me.”
you did so, and he accompanied you by breathing slowly. after the third time, the only traces of your outburst were the tears on your cheeks and your clogged nose.
“i’m too emotional,” you joked off, wiping your tears with your hands at the same time.
“be kind to yourself. you’re going through so much. do you know how tough you are? you’re growing a human inside of you,” he noticed you looking down while he praised you, so it fueled him to continue. “you’re doing all of this alone, and i’m pretending to be useful by doing stupid chores and attending appointments. you’re the real superwoman here. i’m so proud of everything you’re doing.”
“don’t make me cry more!”
he chuckled and kissed your forehead. you leaned into his touch with your heavy eyelids closing for a moment too long.
it was no surprise that you went to bed while he cleaned up. he usually slept on the couch when he was at your house, but tonight he wanted to be with you.
he knocked on your door, unsure if you were sleeping. after all, insomnia was a common symptom during pregnancy.
“come in,” you mumbled with your eyes wide open in the dark.
“hey… i just wanted to know if you were fine. how’s your sleep?”
“bad. i can’t sleep at all.”
“do you know santos in the ed? she forced me to listen to sleepmaxxing content when she learned i was a swat physician in my free time.”
“she’s on the night shift?”
he shook his head. “no, you probably haven’t worked with her, but the point is that i know some tricks to make you fall asleep.”
he put on some white noise on your phone, closed the blackout curtains to let no light in, and adjusted the thermostat to a colder setting.
“is there something about not being alone in bed in sleepmaxxing?”
“could be; i didn’t watch all of the videos she sent,” he replied while approaching your bed. “would you like it if i joined?”
“yes.”
he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his prosthetic before getting in and enveloping you in his arms.
you whined and mumbled something about him needing to be closer to you.
“don’t know if you noticed, but there's a baby between us.”
you rolled your eyes, which made him smile, and turned around so he could be closer to your whole backside in a spooning position.
he couldn’t notice the blush rising on your face, and you couldn’t notice his.
labor
you insisted on continuing to work through your third trimester. you felt useless at home anyway.
you got called in the emergency department again. once you came in, jack rushed to you.
“why are you here?” he asked, positioning himself in front of you to block your way.
“i got called in.”
“i called your department, not you. it’s too dangerous for you to come down here when we’re too busy.”
“don’t tell me what to do!”
“i will because one of my nurses got physically assaulted ttoday, and i’m not letting that happen again. especially not to you.”
“i’m already here; can you just give me the case?” you sighed with a hand rubbing your belly.
“it’s john’s case. he’s in trauma 2.”
you walked there, but you felt followed, so you turned around. “jack, i’m a big girl.”
“john probably needs my help; i should assist.”
you walked in and smiled at the other attending. “hi, mama,” shen greeted you when he saw you. “…and dada… you guys joined us when we stabilized him!”
“great, i’ll have to walk the stairs again. call me when he can be admitted in peds.”
jack took your shoulders from behind you to keep you in place. “take the elevator,” he ordered, leaving no room for discussion.
shen put his hands up. “okay! i’m going to leave the couple’s fight.”
“we’re not a couple!” you both yelled at him, projecting your anger onto the poor guy.
some nurses looked in your direction, but you ignored them.
“we’re like siblings,” you corrected, which earned you a disappointed look from jack.
what was he disappointed about?
john looked at your belly before raising his eyes back at you. “totally not incestuous. maybe consider some other labels,” he recommended before heading out of the room.
“oh, we didn’t do it-” you tried to say before he could leave butt got cut off by some contractions.
the two attendings locked eyes with each other as they noticed it.
“fuck, are you in labor?” jack asked while touching your belly.
“no, it’s braxton-hicks contractions. i had that for my whole third trimester.”
“really sounds like something you should’ve told me.”
“oh, did you want to know in detail my constipation issues too, while we’re at it?” you asked in a passive-aggressive tone before that john gave you an office chair for you to sit on.
“yeah, i could’ve helped, actually,” he replied, a little on edge at the attitude you’ve been giving him for days since you shared a bed.
“ok, well, it’s done now. i need to go pee.”
you made your way between the two men and went to the bathroom.
as you sat on the toilet, you had another light contraction before feeling liquid leak out of you.
it wasn’t the moment. you weren’t ready. it was too early for that. you wiped and washed your hands before going to see jack.
he was still in trauma 2, but the patient who was stabilized some minutes ago had doctors all around him.
“what’s happening?” you asked as you walked in.
“8-year-old male, bike vs car, was stable, now hypotensive, tachycardic, worsening abdominal distention, dropping gcs. we started fluids, and blood is coming,” shen explained to you quickly. “he’s in decompensated shock. keep transfusing and call the or. he’ll be clear to go.”
jack looked at nazely, who nodded and called the other department.
you weren’t focused at all because another contraction just hit you. you sat down on the chair john previously gave you. nobody cared; they were all up on the little boy.
“how much is in?” shen asked a nurse.
“first unit just started.”
“good, activate massive transfusion. get plasma and platelets ready,” you ordered, breathing slowly to avoid looking too pained.
no one looked back, way too concentrated on the patient. you looked at the clock on the wall to calculate your contractions. they were becoming way too close, but it wasn’t the moment at all.
lena opened the glass door and announced that the or was open. at this brief loss of focus, jack’s eyes drifted to you.
“fuck…”
john’s eyes widened at the sight. he quickly assigned an intern to stay with the kid upstairs before going in your direction.
“my water broke in the bathroom. my contractions are less than four minutes apart,” you blurted out, stressing the two men even more.
your contraction ended for a small moment, giving you enough attention span to listen to what jack had to say.
“okay, we need to deliver the baby now," dr abbot announced while shen came back with a wheelchair.
“i can’t have the baby now. it’s too early,” you complained as jack pushed your wheelchair to a room.
“active labor, where is she going, lena?” shen yelled to the charge nurse.
“north 5, i’m calling the ob.”
you lay in the bed, and nurses and doctors filled the room while john took charge. “emergency delivery. get me a delivery kit, a warm blanket, and someone to call for neonatal support.”
a nurse quickly undressed you and checked your vagina’s opening. “she’s crowning.”
john gently pushed jack to go to your side and support you. “okay, mama, i’ll deliver your baby.”
“no, not you,” you cried out, too exhausted to care about his feelings. “i want a woman doctor.”
“ellis, you’re up. i’ll be supervising.”
“jack, i need you,” you whined, taking his hand and holding it hard, earning a small groan from him even if he didn’t want to complain.
“okay, mama, the head is showing. when you feel a contraction, you push,” parker instructed, placing your legs in a better position.
john took a look. “control the head and check for cord.”
when you felt the contraction, you gently pushed to avoid any tears from your vagina.
“okay, don’t push too much,” jack cooed, keeping a hand on the top of your hair.
“i know, fucking dumbass!” you screamed while the whole team tried to keep a straight face at their boss getting harshly humbled.
“head’s out, no cord. we’re pushing on to the next contraction.”
you were sobbing between the contractions. “i didn’t want it to happen like that!”
“i know, but you’re doing great,” jack reassured, standing close.
“you’re so useless! you’re just standing there!”
“you’re right…”
“fuck you, i hate you!” you screamed out when another contraction came in.
“and i love you. can you push for me?”
“no, you can’t say that now. you can’t!”
“i’m here for you; squeeze my hand as hard as you can and give me another push.”
you pushed once more, and the baby came out. they dried her and did a quick check. jack gently removed your bra and lifted your shirt for them to place the baby on your skin. nurses covered her in blankets as she started sucking for milk.
“time of birth is 6:12 a.m.," shen stated after looking at his watch.
“you did amazing; i’m so proud of you,” jack whispered while smiling.
postpartum
abbot had never cared for you as much as in this stage. he insisted that you stay in bed while he did all the annoying things you didn’t want to do.
“jack, i can go,” you mumbled when the baby started to cry in the middle of the night.
“i got it; just continue sleeping,” he reassured from the hallway.
you felt so bad. he was sleeping on the couch, changing diapers, and barely getting any sleep.
“okay, but come here after.”
he accepted, and once he was in the nursery, he almost immediately stopped the noises the newborn made. you worked with kids all the time, yet you couldn’t make your own child stop crying like he could.
it sometimes made you jealous to see how quickly he could calm her, as if you knew her less than he did.
jack stopped at the door of your bedroom. he didn’t want to intrude on your space, especially when your relationship was so unclear.
“do you mind sleeping with me? i feel bad that you sleep on the couch.”
“your couch is fine. don’t worry about me; i’m a grown-up. how are you feeling, mama?”
“if i wasn’t feeling well, i would’ve told you before. please, take care of yourself instead and sleep in a proper bed.”
he offered you a lazy and tired smile before sitting on the edge of the bed. he removed his prosthetic and lay down so you could cover him with your warm blanket.
“you should probably use crutches during the night. you’d avoid putting on and removing your fake leg.”
“nah, i’m a new dad, not a grandpa,” he joked, letting go a small chuckle from you.
he turned to you, and that’s when you saw the full exhaustion on him. “sleep tight, okay?”
“yeah, you too…”
──୨୧──
the early morning was visible through the window when you opened your eyes. the baby was crying again. you tried to get up, but you felt two large arms around you. he was spooning you in a tight embrace, as if he were scared to let you go.
“jack…” you muttered to wake him as gently as possible.
“go back to sleep. i want to stay with you,” he whispered with his eyes still closed.
“the baby’s crying…”
“she always is… give it five minutes. i want to sleep more with you,” he admitted, wrapping his arms tighter around your chest.
if you weren’t fully awake before, you were now.
“jack what did you say?” you asked, already getting tired of the sounds your baby makes and sitting up on the bed.
he finally opened his eyelids and rubbed them in a fast motion to talk to you in a decided tone.
“go feed her, but i don’t want us to sleep in this bed as exhausted parents anymore.”
“what?” you asked with your mouth open in shock.
you mentally slapped yourself. did he have to spell it out for you to understand? he couldn’t be more straightforward, yet you had no idea how to answer or even take that.
“i want to go on a date with you or anything that will make us more than friends in your eyes. i know you don’t want it, but just give me a chance. i want to give it a try.”
his eyes were begging you to accept. he really wanted you to agree to this. anything you’d want to take from him to finally upgrade the friend status he’s been stuck with for years. it was all he ever desired before, but now he wanted something more.
he needed his daughter to believe in soulmates and in love. he wanted her to smile when she saw both of her parents at her recitals or be embarrassed when they kissed too long.
you must’ve thought the same because you nodded. “okay, let’s give it a shot… let’s go on a date.”
꒰ ⟡ 𝒎𝒅𝒏𝒊 ⸝ 𝒄𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝒘𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗏𝖾 , 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝖺𝗍 . . heavy fauxcest . established relationship . daddy ᵎᵎ jack abbot . female ᵎᵎ reader . use of dad , daddy , dada . use of little one , baby , daughter . doctor patient roleplay . medplay . fingering . biting . unprotected piv penetration . male ﹠ female orgasms . all characters are 𝟤𝟣 years or older ﹠ consenting adults . .
꒰ ⟡ 𝒔𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 : dadbf jack plays out a scene as soon as he gets off nightshift ᵎ 𝟥.𝟪k words .
꒰ ⟡ 𝒏𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 : basically just more fauxcest smut ᵎ title is inspired from unfit by kmfdm ❤︎
You weren’t used to hospitals — and in all aspects of whom you cultivated a relationship with, the mere fact of your unfamiliarity with the PMTC was a bit obscene. Yet, when you received a message that Jack needed you, post-haste and post-night shift, you appealed, allured into his own audacious fantasy. Preceding the glow of dawn, you were beckoned and discreetly tucked away in a vacant exam room, now awaiting and alone. You had slipped into the provided hospital gown, with pebbled nipples straining against the thin and nearly transparent cotton. The stale air of the space was suffused with the scent of antiseptic and your own arousal, and the fluorescents above your head furiously blared in a sneer, striking down bright upon the tile. You presume it’s been slow before the daybreak, or else Jack would not have withheld enough energy to sneak you in for the sake of play. Still, your gut swirls with lingering reluctance and lust, and you fidget your fingers until Jack finally knocks upon the door. He peeks inside with a soft grin before proceeding into the rest of the room, locking the handle behind him.
Despite it not entirely fitting the role, you couldn’t help but break into a full smile at the sight of him, your Dad. It had been a bleak shift for him — it nearly always was when you were what awaited him at home. He looked nearly deluded with exhaustion, and tinged with desperation for you, his sweet girl.
Jack sighs happily, as if he’s already sated with the glimmer of your teeth and your honeyed little hum of, “hi dad…” Your socked feet are hung off the table, kicking up like a joy-strewn puppy attempting to behave and not yet pounce on him. Jack is immediately permitted to swallow his groan, his cock already starting its swell in the groin of his black scrubs.
“Hey, sugar,” he smiles back, the creases by his mouth gleaming in the white-hot lighting. He steps close and slips right into the scene, his brows furrowing in faux concern about what’s ‘written’ on the chart before he meets your eyes again.
“See here you’re having some pain in your privates?” His finger taps at the folder twice before gently setting it down on the counter. “Mind if the doctor takes a look?” You nod, shifting your thighs together and suckling on your bottom lip, succumbing to his request and spreading them.
Jack is unable to suppress his smirk, tugging up the scrub fabric on his thighs to properly sit on the stool in an examination. Your slick imbues freshly through your underwear, and he nearly shivers with anticipation before exhaling slowly. His thick palms press at your knees, shoving them more apart, and you hike the hospital gown up enough to expose the sliver of skin just above your waistband.
You’re irrevocably swollen – Jack can already tell from how see-through your panties are; the translucence from the seeping slick now outlines your tender, tumid folds, and he begins to trace them with the lightest touch, noting the contour of your puffy pussy lips and how your pleading clit is nudging through the thin fabric. Another groan is subdued in his throat when he conceals his desire within his ‘Doctor Dad’ facade, and he slowly peels the sticky fabric off of your cunt. Strings of your arousal break with distance, and you begin to leak on the paper beneath you. You’re so reddened, and Jack bites back a beratement – he can already tell that you’ve been rubbing the night away while he’s been working – although for now, he feigns indifference.
“Okay, baby, I see you’re having some swelling and tenderness. I’ll need to check everything carefully.” You nod, listening to his clinical request as you watch your Dad snap on sterilizing gloves, whimpering when his thick digits flex beneath the material. “I’m going to press gently to access the inflammation. Tell me if it hurts too much, alright?”
His hand rubs at your inner thigh in a poor play of professional detachment. “Deep breath for me now.”
Your hips twitch involuntarily with your stifled breath, and Jack just drinks in each little reaction of your body. His eyes are dimming now, the hazel spurred within them now staining with something darker. Something languorous.
A blue-veiled index finger begins to prod the swell of your slick pussy, and immediately, you squirm and choke down whines of pleasure. His lips quirk up when a fat drool glistens out of your cunt.
“That’s it. Just relax for me, little one... Know it must feel strange with Dad touchin’ you like this…” Jack chuckles, and it’s playfully light, as if he’s mending a scraped knee or bandaging a papercut, rather than probing himself at your drippy little pussy. You try, and wholly fail, to not rut on his hand when he firmly presses his thumb on your pulsing, gooey bud – you cant your hips up eagerly in an involuntary response.
His brows raise in that subtle, parental admonishment, clicking his tongue to talk. “Tch. Baby... I need you to stay still so I can get a good look.” The sensation on your clit slows to a soft and deliberate taunt, a testament to the former pressure he’d just tormented your body with.
“‘m sorry, dad.” You mumble, biting hard onto your lip. He retracts unreservedly then, adjusting his gloves in the respectable role of your current physician.
It’s impossible for Jack to remain stoic when his own face is flush with want. His groin aches, and his cock is evidently bobbing through the strained material of his scrubs. He finds himself leaning in between your quivering thighs, attempting a steadying breath. The role is crumbling; he can’t help it — he’s more Dad than Doctor when his face dips in, his nose brushing the inside of your thigh to inhale the scent. Your skin is sugared from body lotion, warm and salted from the night, and infused with the sweet aroma of what drips out of your swollen little pussy. He sighs, sitting up to conjure up some composure, and slips a gloved hand against your cunt.
“Okay, sugarplum. You’re definitely inflamed.” He nods once to himself before parting your inner folds to expose the glistening that clings to them. He can see your hole undulate at his touch, clenching on nothing before more translucent want weeps out of you.
“Does it hurt when I do this?” He asks, playing into the part of what’s purely diagnostic. He applies the pressure of his two digits right against where your entrance quivers to be filled, and instantly, your throat cracks out a whine. Jack ignores it, pressing more pronouncedly onto your hole. “What about here, honey?” He ponders out loud, before shoving his gloved index finger past the ring of muscle, pushing all the way inside you, scraping walls with an audible squelch. You let out a pitched gasp, nearly a moan, and much too loud for the exam room. He prods into the tender flesh of your tightening cunt, and the pressure has your back already arching and eyes clenching shut. The paper crinkles under your writhing body as you ineptly simulate the ingenuousness you’re supposed to exude.
“ahh–! dad.. dad, that.. feels rea- really funny,” you whine out, whilst your doctor remains neutral. He’s too fucking good at this, feigning it all in this fantasy of provoking pleasure in a poorly oblivious and inexperienced ‘patient.’ You want to kick his ribs, jam your heel in an effort to bare his skin and rip off those godforsaken black scrubs, to just have his swelling dick deep inside you already. But you don’t. You just worry at your lip, peering down at your Dad’s forehead lines and how they scrunch in his rapt perusal of your pussy. You stare at the silvered curls that streak against your thighs, softly sweeping over your skin and leaving you to shiver in their wake.
“Funny, huh? Hmmm…” His voice is heavier now, and the breaths that exude from his lungs are hot and curling over your clit in a whisper of sensation. Your hole flutters in a relentless, sloppy throb.
“Does it feel funny when I do this?" His finger inside mushes itself right inside that soft, sponged spot inside, and this time, you do react, in a roused, surprised moan. Your hips buck, and you shudder, half slouched on the wall against the exam table. Jack’s mouth is only mere inches from your warmth now, and it takes everything in him not to salivate and suck on your turgid, needy bud. You smell like sweet musk, heat and heaven, and he parts his lips to aspirate the flavor, swallowing it thickly before forcing out another fallacious assessment with a frown.
“Oh. That doesn’t feel any better, does it, pumpkin?” He sighs, his brows furrowing in a contrived look of bewilderment – he acts as if you’re in physical, unexplainable pain, rather than sensitivity from hammering arousal and your need for release. But Jack can’t quite angle his wrist right with enough success to ram in relentless thrusts, and he pulls out and away as a result. You whine with sheer impotence and anguish.
“Let’s try something else. Lay back, honey. Let Dad take another look.”
You’re too distraught with the discomfort to discern Jack’s feverish desire. This innocent doctor-patient act you both are playing at has his fat dick pulsing, his breaths too fast, and he has to force himself to maintain configuration. Maybe he’ll just cum contactless. It already feels like he will. He’s dribbling precum already, and his hips twitch every so often to spurt and slicken his boxers. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. He’s not sure that they’ll ever be a last – his kid tests him and his virility more often than he should allow.
Jack’s teeth spear into his bottom lip, watching you obey doctor’s orders so willingly. You reposition yourself to properly lie vertically on the table, your tiny cunt smearing on the paper sheet as Jack rounds the side on the stool. Your knees are bent past the edge, feet hung once again, before he’s racking a leg over his shoulder to properly spread and palm your heat. His free hand presses on the plush of your inner thigh to keep you splintered open for when he plunges his thick digits back in. And he does, immediately. Before you can seal your legs shut again. Two fingers pry against sloppy petals, and then penetrate inside of you once more. The friction of his finger pads grind incessantly against the sweet spot where you throb, and it draws out a long, tormented moan from you.
“Ah..” He smiles in faux guile at the diagnostic discovery, “I think I know what the problem is – My baby’s pussy is empty. Poor little cunt.. that’s why you’re all puffy, isn’t it, honey?”
You whimper and nod discordantly, babbling out a, “yes, doctor,” that makes Jack’s hips twitch as the knot in his gut stutters a sharp spike of arousal down through his spine.
“That’s right. Doctor Dad's gonna fix you right up.” Jack promises, but the pressure of his digits inside remains too slow.
You still gush, squelching out when you push your cunt up on his knuckles, moaning an implore of, “dada– please dada, more…”
Jack groans gutterrally at your prattish want, pressing kisses to the side of your knee that’s slung over him. “Yeah. That’s right baby, it’s Dada. And Dada’s just trying to make you feel better. Although…” He fucks his fingers deeper against your fleshy, inner walls, just to accentuate his unsound words, “I’ve never had a patient react quite like this before.”
“s’ ‘cause ‘m your daughter,” you murmur back, and your shameless, immediate claim nearly makes him cum untouched in his scrubs.
“Fuck… Yeah. I know.” Jack grits out with fierce need, his breath ragged, and his grasp on your thigh grows white-knuckle taut for a moment before relaxing again. “Can’t let my baby hurt, though.”
You’re a prowess for fucking ruining him. You always do. And in reply, he mars you with two fingers deep within the confines of your body. His exhale is dizzy, his eyes hazed, and he heeds all he can muster to subsist through the scene.
Your squishy pussy slips out more arousal, puddling up the paper below the cleft of your ass. When Jack speaks again, it's only hushed in condescension – all saccharine and succulent, just to make you snivel.
“Ohh, look at you. Baby’s getting allll fussy, over just a little checkup, huh? Just so runny down here...” The words melt off his tongue and settle hot in your spine. Jack fucks his fingers harder, before popping them halfway out, just to see your poor, inflamed little pussy flow out arousal. “Aw. Look at her. Makin’ a little river for Dad.”
You start thrashing when he doesn’t press himself back in, beginning to purposefully and petulantly whine aloud. Jack watches as you attempt to toss – your thighs only tremble in his asundering grip, but the calf crutched over his shoulder shudders against his jaw, shoving flush with his face in defiance. His teeth sink in before his mind can interject. And it works. It does halt your twisting muscles.
You gasp, pacified immediately from the pain as you’re left panting. Jack doesn’t shred through skin – it's only just enough to stifle your squirms, leaving your lower leg indented with a bite pooling with saliva. His laugh is bitter, bred straight from tutelarous, torturous depths, sated from your stasis and sweet, shuddering cunt. It’s an unbidden break in the role, clearly, but he’s able to curb it and recompose himself. He kisses the faceted mark before a grin furls onto his lips.
“Poor little one. Can’t even stay still for her exam.”
You don’t respond; you can’t, really. You just turn your head away as a pout blooms on your face in a biddable, silent plea. Jack clears his throat, pinching at your inner thigh with his free hand.
“I see. That’s not what a good little baby does, you know… You have to try to hold steady for the doctor, or I’m not going to be able to make you stop hurting… Do you understand that, sweetheart? Can you listen? Stay still for Dad?”
Your mouth stays silent in an attempt to concentrate on remaining stationary, but your pussy whines in squelches when he twists his wrist, angling it a little deeper once again. It’s not until you experience the icy sensation of metal, softly pressed against your pleading clit, that a sound, a gasp, is wrung high and raw from your throat.
“Such a reactive little patient.” Jack’s smirks, positioning the stethoscope more firmly as your pulse hammers through your wet, wanting flesh. “Making such a mess of my equipment, baby… but Daddy has to listen; your rhythm is accelerated.”
You mewl, unmoving, even as his fingers frot knuckle-deep inside, gently swirling the diaphragm through the slick that’s soaked and sticky on your bulb of nerves.
“Babycunt’s all throbby… She’s beating so hard.”
Jack sighs with furrowed brows and faux apprehension; Your ‘ailment’ is not yet cured by the remedy of his hands. Of course, Jack also knows that he hasn’t given you enough pressure or pace to cum – the torment of your pleasure is a part of the appeal and the scene. And so his digits pause inside you once more and press hard into your plush spot while you fight the need to writhe. “Such excessive sensitivity. I think… I think you need a different course of treatment, little one.”
He sighs before he stops all the stimulation of your pussy. Fingers force themselves out of your stretched, seeping hole; the stethoscope is withdrawn and whisked away, and you cry in helplessness and denial.
Jack stands with a groan, his good knee popping at the joint while his prosthetic adjusts to position. He grins as you weep, watching you grind on the paper, mindless and crying. His hands slip beneath the hospital gown, below your arms, as he hikes you higher off the table, hips raised in the air for him to properly scale himself against your lain form.
His girthy thighs ascend from his scrubs as he sheds them off just enough to expose his hardened, seeking cock. A fat dribble of precum weeps out when it’s exposed to air, and Jack grunts, squeezing his length while his other hand parts your thighs, exposing your already clenching pussy.
“Dad’s gonna give you the right medicine now, okay, baby?” Jack doesn’t wait for you to respond – you only convey yourself with a baby whine, anyway. He just drags your hips to his, notching his puffy, pleading tip against your slit.
“Shh… shh, honey.” He rasps in a whisper, entirely enthralled by the way your eager cunt is already attempting to clench on his cockhead. “S’just a special treatment, okay? Take it like a good baby.”
The first push makes you cry out, your hole so hot and puffy, stretching out on his fat dick while he just coos to you. “Fuck… there she is. Jus’ a little stretch — you’re okay, you got it.”
He slots the thick, aching length of him further inside your plush, clamping walls, even as you whimper softly. “Gonna get you all better, kid.”
With a squelching thrust, more of your slick sputters out of your creamy cunt, suckling your Dad further inside. Jack grunts, his hands pressing to your hips, holding you still as he pumps himself deeper, prodding into the walls of your warmth. His lips are parted, eyes closed and biceps tense as he holds back the sharp curls of heat that spike in his groin. His baby just feels so good. Pulsing and squeezing him, and he bucks up once more, pulling your pelvis tight against his. His swollen cockhead buries itself right against the spongy spot inside you, your palpitating, quivering pussy beating right through the veins that bulge through his dick. You watch Jack bite his bottom lip, his mouth dipping into those familiar lines around the silver bristles when he frowns in pleasure – entirely enraptured in the way you ripple around him. A hand of his shoots down to steel himself, pinching at the base of his cock to calm the orgasm that simmers inside his gut.
You listen to your Dad pant, before he’s giving an exploratory roll into the tightening clutch of his baby, kissing up at your cervix, and making you gasp out with the full sensation.
His thumb finally makes contact with your sticky, exposed bundle of nerves, which is already engorged from so much friction and firmed up with blood flow. Jack rubs it in lavishing glides, in tandem with each shivering thrust that he makes inside you, and the heat in your belly sunders. Your orgasm hits in a hot, dizzying surge of seeping arousal. You gush from around him with a gasp, your body nearly convulsing with the clench of your pussy. Your puffy walls writhe against the thick ridges of him, cumming on your Dad’s length in extended whimpers of ravishing pleasure.
“Oh, looook at you.” Jack chuckles gruffly, “Cumming so sweetly for the doctor.” You can hear the infantilizing tone of his voice, and it only makes your cunt shudder harder in a constricting hold on him. “Mmh– I know… Didn’t know a checkup would feel this good, did you, honey?”
You respond with a shake of your head, or more of a jerky sway, accompanied by a dazed look in your eye when you look up at your Dad. He moans above you, at the scent and sight of him sinking himself further in and out of your pussy, watching his baby’s cunt swallow the slick, thick base of him.
“That’s it– fuck. Dad’s just gotta fill you with your medicine, baby.” Jack slots himself entirely inside, for the final time, flush with your hips, slumped and bent over your body to press against your chest. He feels the throbbing, sticky sheath of you on the swell of his cock, gripped and twitching tight. His free hand clasps, clenched on the side of the exam table as he ruts needily inside your tender, twitching little cunt before stilling. Jack cums with a sharp, hoarse groan, flooding you in scorched surges of warmth. His orgasm nearly feels endless as he seeps into you, filling his baby, and fucking himself deeper when spurt after spurt shoots through his slit and thickly stuffs your puffy hole. He doesn’t stop; not until there’s a foamed ring of your cum and his semen coating the base of his cock where the silver hair curls and prickles at his groin.
The exam room is silent except for shared pants and pulses. Jack peers down at you only after the post-sex moments stretch long, and he’s purely endeared by how thoroughly and undoubtedly wrecked you are – cheeks seeped wet, lips parted and glistening saliva down your chin. You’re fiercely clamped on his now slackening cock as if he belongs confined inside of you – and yet, you both are eerily cognizant that the truth is that he does; You’re inexorably, and painfully, aware of your dependence on each other, on the bond that blooms with such inexplicable love. And, of course, the ‘treatment’ of having your Dad spill into your cunt until you’re both trembling and sticky with sweat and cum.
Your eyes tiredly meet his own – dizzy, dreary, and splashed dark with devotion for his daughter. His lungs stutter with his breaths, but Jack smiles with surfeit, still half bowed over you, chest to chest and snuggling his face into your neck. Your senses are fully saturated with only him. The scent of his cum, his sweat, accompanied by the airy, florality of Hibiclens wash and the bergamot of his cologne that seems to curl itself through it all.
“thanks f’curing me, dad.. feels so good now.” You declare ditzily, grinning against his mussed tresses, and Jack huffs a spent, sated laugh in response.
“Mm. Course, baby. You’re always such a sweet, little patient for me,” He slurs back, pressing kisses over your collarbone where the gown has dipped down enough for exposure. Your hand slips into his silver, sweat-damp hair, feeling the curls as he sighs into the sensation, subtly grinding his softening, tender length still inside, just to keep you closer.
You’ll be sore and sticky – and he’ll certainly have to sterilize the room after such an intense exam. But for now, Jack is able to savor this; The besotted touches and shivers from him hauled in your warmth. The afterglowed, winsome whispers under the white fluorescent lights, the flush of your cheeks and the flutters of your lashes – all prior to the sunrise, and another precious, sweet-natured day of loving you.
Jack Abbot absolutely coddles his kids. It’s just that he never thought he’d get the opportunity to be a dad. He’s lost so much in his life, his leg, his first wife, his sense of self prior to being discharged from the military.
The thought of possibly losing his children haunts him. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost Reader or their kids.
Life is finally giving him some kindness and he’s terrified of facing more loss.
When Reader admits to him that she wants kids in the future, Jack Abbot decides he better shape up because he very much intends on being the guy who’s gonna father those kids. He refuses to let anyone else get that privilege. He decides to do what it takes to be the man Reader builds her ideal life with.
If she wants marriage and kids, then Jack Abbot is making it happen.
The second Reader gets pregnant its automatic overprotective energy bouncing off of Abbot.
The man hovers over Reader to the point that it’s almost suffocating. If they work together he’s constantly looming around in the background as much as their working environment will allow.
If they don’t work together then the man is constantly blowing up Reader’s phone with texts and panicking if she doesn’t reply in a sensible timeframe or at the very least let him know she’s sleeping and can’t reply.
The second his kids are born he’s a helicopter parent. He’s strapped those kids to him with one of those baby slings. He’s scooping the kid up anytime they let out a peep.
He’s constantly glued to his kids. When they start crawling and walking he’s always close by…in case they need Dad…he just wants them to know he’s near, if they need him.
He loves bedtime because bedtime means cuddle with Dad for a story. Weekends that he’s off work are cuddle with dad and watch morning cartoons time.
If the kids are sick then it’s absolutely time to snuggle with dad in the recliner. Abbot doesn’t care if the kid is puking and feverish, his little one is staying with him.
The man folds when the kids have a must sleep with mom and dad phase.
When they go to sleepovers at friend’s houses Reader has to reassure Abbot that their kids will be fine.
Abbot is so pouting the summer his kids go to a sleep away camp even if it’s only a couple of weeks.
He dreads the day his kids decide they’re too old to want to snuggle with dad and think Dad’s hugs are cringy.
He’s gonna mope so much when the kids go though their teenage dad is lame phase.
He’s absolutely gonna be the parent who constantly tells his kids “you’ll always be my babies.”
BABY LOGIC
jack abbot x f! reader | 1.5k
fluff, suggestive themes, no use of y/n
ft baby abbot and robby
Jack had always thought your daughter would grow up to be a genius. You were an emergency medicine resident, he was an attending, the knowledge transfer was bound to happen. That’s what anyone would’ve thought. But, boy was he wrong.
His adorable little pocket sunshine of a daughter is currently nibbling on his scrub top. Jack wants to chastise her, tell her it carries the worst of the hospital in it, but she’s six months old and incapable of comprehension.
What she was trying to reach? Milk. Your little one does not understand biology. That he can let it slide, no half-year old kid would know it. But shouldn’t she know by now that only her mom will be able to feed her?
How many times in the middle of the night has Jack woken up to find her screaming her ears off, only to wake you up and deposit the bundle of sweetness into your lap with a kiss to your forehead and an apology in his mouth?
Gladly Jack would feed her if he were able to produce milk. But humans and other mammals alike, males are not genetically evolved to nourish their offspring. Because if he could, he would.
“Bug, there’s nothing here,” he tries telling her. Which does nothing good, except earn a chuckle Jack knew very personally. The voice and its owner — a perpetual pain in his butt since the first year of med school — make themselves known with another chuckle. To which Jack can only groan, “what’re you doin’ here?”
“Here to see my goddaughter.” Robby and his insane timing. Why must he choose this specific moment to display his affection? Of every low point Jack has quietly accumulated throughout his life, Robby has been there. It is impossible to figure out how Robby knows these embarrassing moments and decides to pop up, but he always does.
The statistical probability of this is insulting. Of all the rooms in this hospital, of all the moments in a day, Robby walks in for the exact one where Jack is being actively suckled at by his infant daughter. He could’ve walked in when Jack was skillfully changing her diaper — wait that’s not better. Thing is it’s unfair, with drool on his shirt and a six-month-old clamped to his pec, is when Robby decides to be a present and loving godfather.
“How did you know I was here?” Jack prods, all the while trying to keep your baby from latching onto his nipples through his shirt, it not being much of a barrier at all.
Robby completely ignores Jack’s question — like he usually does, like that one time when Jack asked him, directly, in plain English, whether he'd eaten the rest of his leftovers from the fridge, and Robby held eye contact with him for four full seconds and then asked if Jack had seen the new attending in neuro — and nods towards the baby, “she good?”
“Yeah, she’s — she’s just —” Jack cannot bring himself to say out loud that his daughter is gnawing at his muscles in hopes of quenching her thirst. Some things you just don't say. Some things you carry alone.
“God. Is she trying to — feed from you?” Robby throws his head back in a bashful laugh. Jack feels his hands itch to put him in a chokehold, the only thing keeping him away from doing that being his current object of affection, his lovely daughter. The laugh alone tells him this is a story that'll be recounted many years to come. Told at every bar they ever drink at, Christmas, at the next three people's weddings, at Jack's funeral probably, Robby having outlived the former purely out of spite. “Told you to go easy on the weights,” Robby continues, pushing past Jack’s glares. But the latter can only seem so intimidating with little sunshine on his arms, babbling with spit oozing from the corner of her mouth.
“You know what, why don’t you take her?” Jack practically shoves the baby into Robby’s arms, the latter immediately straightening up to hold her without missing a beat.
As Jack sorts out the spit situation, little bug has found residence in Robby’s chest, pawing at his scrub — worse condition than Jack's — as she tries to figure out a way to milk. So, the shape and geography of the area wasn’t the problem; your daughter is. If she’s that hungry, shouldn’t she latch onto the bottle? Apparently bottles are beneath her, as she pays them no mind, only snuggling deeper into Robby’s embrace now.
"See, it's not just me."
Like always, Robby ignores Jack's tantrums and rocks her, swaying from left to right as he eyes Jack, who now seems very victorious about establishing the fact that his daughter needs to be latched no matter the anatomy and physiology, and maybe is a little dumber than he’d thought. That is a terrible thing to think about a baby — much more, to think about his own baby — but that’s where Jacks head is at.
Thank god you decided to walk in that exact moment, confusion painting your face as you raise one eyebrow at the situation. Like a sunflower finding sun, your baby slots herself against Robby, straining her neck to find you, her own North Star. “What’s going on here?”
Jack has never felt luckier. That’s an overstatement, he knows. He’s felt lucky everyday since you came into his life, but particularly now with you glancing up at him with smile laced lips, and soft sighs from working for four hours straight without feeding.
“Our beloved daughter missed you, is all.” Missed you and your boobs, and tried to burrow into mine and Robby's, is what he doesn't say. Like she was summoned, your baby raises her arms from Robby’s hold, babbling a string of bah-bah-bah, exact to her social development, the little genius she apparently is, now that she has you in her sights.
The same child who spent twenty minutes trying to nurse from two men with no relevant equipment is now performing perfect developmental milestones on cue. Fine. She'll be fine.
Walking closer to both men, your own arms open, reaching in the air, a laugh bubbling up from your throat, the soft kind, the honest kind, the full kind. Jack sees your body sense little bug, smell, sound, and everything heightened. Coupled with the laughter, your letdown reflex makes itself known as two perfect patches of wetness coat your blouse, the warmth of it you register almost immediately, eyes darting between both Jack and Robby, a little insecure, a little flustered.
While Jack has seen you in everything and nothing, Robby hasn’t — of course, why would he? — and a redness climbs up his face, tinging his ears pink, as he tries to divert his gaze from your chest to the baby in his arms, who is now oblivious and content now that she has you within grasp.
Jack watches this unfold in real time. Robby, undone by a biological reflex. The ears going first, embarrassment creeping up from behind him, working its way forward.
Robby hands her over to you, immediately taking a step back, putting distance between you both as he rubs the nape of his neck with his hand, stuttering, “uhmm — I think— I should go.”
Not waiting for a response, Robby walks past you both, still completely red. Jack had never thought a biological response would petrify his friend, what with the countless number of bizarre things they've collectively and individually witnessed during their careers. A man who has genuinely seen everything emergency medicine has to throw at a person, walking very quickly away from a breastfeeding-adjacent situation like it might follow him into the hall.
Little bug throws her arms over your face, trying to grab your attention from her godfather.
“Poor Robby.” You mutter as you start feeding your daughter.
“He’ll live,” Jack replies instantly, though he knows the image of Robby's ears going full red while he stared intensely at the crown of the baby's head will sustain him through at least two more shifts. Maybe three.
When your baby is almost done, Jack takes that opportunity to ask you one thing that's been plaguing his mind forever. Forever would be a stretch, let's say almost six months. Six months of being in the general vicinity of a thing and very much not included in it. Watching his daughter treat this like the most obvious arrangement in the world, and Jack, who understands the oxytocin, the prolactin, the whole cascade, understanding perfectly well why, and still experiencing what he can only describe, clinically, as being left out. “You know, now that she's old enough to start complimentary feeds…” He looks at you expectantly.
“Mhmm?”
“It’s only fair I get a taste… since she's this addicted.”
A swat lands on his arm before he can close his mouth. But your face tells him a different story. And he knows exactly what it means.
Jack Abbot x fem!reader (little bit of Robby x reader)—in which, Robby doesn't want anything to do with you and his child, but Jack is always here for you, for your kid. He steps up for you.
TW: Robby's an asshole, pregnancy, slow-burn . Jack is a great partner. ANGST
A/N: Credit for the idea belongs to @lunarayletters, my mutual, actually!!!!!
The results of the test stare up at you, the 35 mIU/mL swimming before your eyes, the meaning making your head spin with the implications. You had suspected that you were pregnant, but it’s one thing to suspect it and another to see the results staring you in the face, unmistakable in black and white fresh from the lab.
“Fuck,” you whisper, the paper crumpling just slightly in your hand as the tears well up. You’re both happy and distraught because yes, you want to be a mother, but there are so many conflicting variables and things to consider and things to plan.
And it doesn’t help that this has been the actual shift from Hell, crash carts being called left and right, two Code Hulu-Hoops, three peds traumas and a computer crash that set everything back for two hours.
You know that you’re overwhelmed and tired and that it’s not helping the reveal of this news, of this fact, but your stomach still dropped when you saw the results, when you saw that what you’d been afraid of for the past two days was true.
You’d started to wonder when you began to get sick in the mornings, when the smell of baking cookies made you sick to your stomach when normally it made you relaxed and when the taste of strawberries made you nauseous too.
You’d just hoped you were wrong.
“Hey, hey,” calls out Robby, the main reason you feel sick looking at the results. “Been missing my favourite nurse out here.” His words are light, but his tone is pointed, angry. You know he wants you back out on the floor, smiling and treating patients, being that beaming ray of moonlight, soft and steady and not blinding like Jack called you back when you started here.
“Yeah, sorry,” you whisper, swallowing once, the movement difficult, throat thick, a spiked ball resting in your lungs, pricking you with every breath you draw in. “Just got side-tracked, I’ll be right out.” You lick your lips once, teeth sinking into the flesh of your bottom lip as you crumple the test results in your hand, pulling your locker open and setting it inside, hoping to delay the inevitable.
Telling Robby.
“You okay?” he asks and you can hear the subtle change in his tone, the change from anger to irritated concern. Sometimes, you wonder why you’re with him at all when he’s like this, when everything is wrong with the world, but nothing with him. Where the failings are everyone else and never him. But then you see him on good days, you see him with the peds cases and the babies that get delivered and you see the good. You see the man who asked you out, a bashful, boyish smile on his face.
“Fine,” you say, turning from your locker to him, taking in the deeply etched lines of stress on his brow, the new grey hairs in his beard, the exhaustion in his mahogany eyes. “Just got…just got a little distracted. All good now.” You force a smile, one that feels fake and tired and a little like a plastic, Barbie doll smile, one that isn’t you at all.
And you walk towards him, slipping by him, your shoulder brushing against his belly in the door, your body positioning itself closer to him automatically, without your conscious awareness and you can feel his hand close around your wrist, his hand broad and warm, calloused fingers just gently scraping against your skin.
“We on for tonight?” he whispers, his breath skating along your neck, gentle and heated, awareness of his closeness heating you even as the number 35 spins behind your eyes.
“Yeah,” you whisper, glancing over at him, unable to suppress the feeling of happiness you have over the results. Yes, it’s a lot. It’s stressful and it’s a big change and this has been a shit shift, but you’re happy knowing that you’ll get to be a mother. That you’ll get to hold a child of your own, protect them and give them everything you never had—that unconditional love and acceptance and guidance and support. “We have to talk.”
And then you push past him, heading over to the station where Dana stands, iPad resting on her lower stomach, eyebrows arched and lips downturned just slightly in her worried frown.
“You okay, hon?” she asks you when you’re close enough that she doesn’t have to yell and you nod once, a fast, jerky motion because you feel like a walking paradox. You’re happy and you’re sad, you’re calm and you’re anxious, you’re crying and yet you’re fucking smiling.
“Just surprised,” you tell her, looking around at the centre of the Pitt, at the way everyone moves around like worker bees, centred around the hive of the station. “Didn’t expect it. Kinda scared me…but…I’m happy. I’m excited.”
“That’s how it should be, sweetie,” Dana says, her hand coming to rest on your bicep, moving in a circular motion, her touch soothing. “You tell Robby, yet?” You sigh and shake your head, looking down at your hands, the two of them interlaced, white-knuckling the other.
“I’m gonna talk to him tonight…be bad to talk about it now, today of all days,” you tell her, that small sardonic smile curling on your lips as you catch a glimpse of him, black scrubs and green sweater sleeves, heading into a trauma room, face drawn tight and pinched.
“He’ll be happy, I’m sure,” Dana says, but as you get pulled away, back into the hustle, into the chaos of the ED, all you can think about, the thought lingering in the back of your mind is that Dana didn’t sound sure of it.
She sounded like she was trying to convince you.
Convince herself.
“God,” Robby groans as he settles his body onto your sofa, his eyes closing as his hands come up to his face, scrubbing down as he leans his head back against the headrest, feet propping up on the footstool. “That shift was hell.”
“Yeah, it really was,” you reply, sliding on your socked feet across the linoleum floor of your house to the kitchen, the fridge where you know you still have pizza left over from the takeout you had with Trinity and Dennis last night. You’re too tired to cook, to do anything other than eat cold pizza, your mind not on proper nutrition, not yet.
Not today.
Not when you have to tell Robby that you’re pregnant with his kid and suffer through the coin flip of his emotions—50% chance that he’ll be happy and a 50% that he’ll be angry and react in a way you don’t want to see.
Maybe more 70% on that one.
“You know what would make us feel better?” you hear Robby say, his voice not that far from you, meaning he’s gotten up from the couch, come closer to you. Meaning if you turn around now, you’ll see him. You’ll see those eyes of his, the ones that are a tempest, that can be beautiful and happy and full of warmth, full of love in one moment and then full of irritation and anger and hate in the next.
You realized throughout your shift, that it’s never been your child that’s scared you but rather the fear of seeing the way Robby looks at you change. And not in the good way.
“Robby—” you start, but he cuts you off as you turn around, his eyebrows rising, lips curling up into a smile, one suggestive and yet sweet.
“A nice long shower, together,” he says and you can feel the thickness once again in your throat when you look up at him and see the way he’s looking at you, with such warmth and desire.
“Michael,” you say and already you can see the change in him, the stiffening of his body, the questioning look in his eyes. “We have to talk.”
“About what?” he asks you, taking a step closer, his eyes narrowing in worry, not anger or irritation or suspicion. Not yet at least. Not ever, you hope.
“About this,” you tell him, drawing the test results, the crumpled ball of printer paper from your pocket, smoothing it out as you hand it to him, the paper riddled with creases and wrinkles but the result of 35 still clear. Still bright and black, stark against the white grain of the paper, the meaning obvious.
“You’re…” he pauses, his hand stilling, forearm muscles tensing as he takes the paper from your grip, his fingers curling around it exactly as yours had, the paper changing from his grip. “You’re pregnant?” he asks, his voice high-pitched, slightly strangled and breathy on the last word as if the entire idea has robbed him of the ability to breathe.
“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to line your eyes, hopeful tears. Happy tears. “I’m pregnant.”
He looks up at you then, his expression having dropped, closed off, become unreadable, stoic in a way, his warm eyes now gone cold. “Is it mine?”
“Is it…is it…” you pause, drawing in a breath, chest constricting, body tensing, your veins on fire as if you’ve been shot with epi, which in a way you have. “Is it yours?! What the fuck are you saying, Michael?! Are you accusing me of cheating on you?! I fucking love you and I would never fucking cheat! You know this, you asshole! You fucking asshole!” You can feel the tears falling down your cheeks now, the salt water born of your body searing your skin, sucking moisture out and drying it.
But he is unmoved, simply sighing and running a hand through his hair as he looks down at the paper in his hand. Your hands are curling into fists, the urge to hit something, hit him welling in you because you can’t understand how he can stand there and accuse you of cheating. Something he knows you would never do, something he knows tore apart your family.
“You’re obviously early on…” he muses, one hand rubbing at his beard incessantly as he sets the paper down on your kitchen island, gaze flicking up to you once before looking away. “The medication would be safe in this case. We can get Abbot to sign off on the or—”
“You expect me to get rid of it?” you whisper, your voice cracking, heart slamming against your chest in a way that hurts so much, in a way that tells you it isn’t your physical heart at all. It’s just you.
You hurt this bad.
“You want it?” he asks you, looking up again, his face twisting and shifting and changing into the expression he has in the ED when people annoy him, when the world is wrong and he’s the only thing right.
“Yes, Robby, I want to have my baby. Our baby. I love you and…yeah, I’ve always wanted to be a mother. I toldyou that,” you cry, hands uncurling, slamming down on the island, the noise echoing through the room, skin against granite, the sting reverberating through you.
“Did you stop taking your pill? Did you do this on purpose?” he asks you and it hurts more because of the carefully neutral tone he has, the clinical voice. The doctor voice.
“What the fuck?! What the fuck is wrong with you, Michael?!” you yell, the sound of pulsing and pounding echoing through your head, your blood the sound as it rushes to your head, body feeling weak, but anger too high to ignore. “You think I’m fucking baby-trapping you?!”
“I don’t fucking know!” he yells, his face twisting in anger, in hate, something you never wanted to see on his face. “All I know is that we practice safe sex. So, how the hell did you get knocked-up?!”
“Safe sex, my ass! You’re the one who said ‘oh you’re on the pill. It’s fine if I don’t pull out. It’s 99 percent effective’ Guess we found the other one percent, Michael!” You watch as his hands fly up to his head, fingers digging into the short strands of his dark and greying hair, pulling just a little.
“Fuuck!” he cries, ripping his hands through his hair, letting the hover behind his head, biceps flexing as he closes his eyes, shaking his head. “I can’t fucking do this! I want nothing to do with this! You…”
“Me what?! You have words, Michael. Fucking use them!”
“YOU DO THIS ON YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN!” he yells, his words echoing around the room with the force of a gunshot, like a bomb, the shrapnel from the explosion targeted at you, at your heart. You can feel his words in every inch of your body, each part seemingly erupting with pain, but you don’t even think of yourself.
You think of your baby.
Of how the stress isn’t good for them. For you, for their growth.
“Fine,” you whisper, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, tears continuing to fall down your cheeks, but they feel like nothing, like you’ve just always existed in this state of silent crying, of wet necklines on your scrubs. “Then get the fuck out.”
“What?” He looks at you now, properly but he still doesn’t change, doesn’t move, instead his face locking back down into the neutral, into the carefully bland Dr. Robby everyone knows.
“I do this and I’m on my own, right?” you ask and he nods and you look up at the ceiling, at the white plaster, hand done in the sixties and look back down at him. “Then get the fuck out of my house, Michael. You want nothing to do with this? Then you’ll have nothing to do with this Micheal. Now get the fuck out of my house.”
And even though it’s what you wanted, when he leaves, closing the door behind him, it still hurts. It hurts even when you wish it didn’t. It hurts because you wish he had stayed and asked to talk about it, that he would change his mind when faced with the prospect of losing you.
It hurts because you wanted to be wanted. You wanted to be something he couldn’t actually lose. You wanted to be someone he would fight for.
You wanted to be someone he thought was worth fighting for.
And you sink to your knees, the cold pizza still in the fridge now forgotten, your back against the cool metal of your fridge door. You sink to the ground, shifting until your ass is on the ground, your head in between your knees and you let out every swear word, every curse word, everything you have inside. You let it all out, your breath hitching and voice cracking and giving and heart breaking, mind tearing.
You let it all out because you have to figure out how to move on. How to shove past being alone, being without him.
You let it all out for you. Because you can’t carry this pain with you when you move on.
But most of all, you let it out for your child. Because they need you, all of you, not a shell still holding onto the pain of losing and being lost.
They need you and you have to give them that.
But for right now, it’s okay to just cry.
And you do.
Hi Dana,
Sorry for letting you know this way, but I’ve been promoted up to Charge Nurse in Orthopedics. I sent in for a transfer and they promoted me instead.
I start on Monday and as such, my shifts in the Pitt for the rest of this week will be covered by Matteo. He agreed, you’ll find it on the schedule. It’s best if I focus on getting ready for the changeover.
I’m sorry, Dana. I can’t continue to work in the environment of the Pitt, especially not when I’m expecting. I wish things could have been different. I wish he could have been different.
Thanks for everything.
Your chest feels hollow, scraped clean and made concave, as if your heart has been carved from your chest, only a little seed left behind. Only a little bit still there still beating, held together by hope.
That small little bit of hope that you carry inside of you. The hope that this will get better, that you’ll stop hurting after a while, that eventually it will be okay.
Because you have to hurt to heal.
Or at least that’s what you tell yourself as you cry into your pillow, missing the feeling of his body beside yours, his arms around you.
That’s what you tell yourself, you have to hurt to heal. If it hurts that means it was real. That’s what you tell yourself because otherwise what’s the point of the hurting? What’s the point in this hollow existence if it won’t get better.
You know it will. You know it will get better because it has to. You have too. But not for you, you have a child to worry about, one to raise and care for and love in a way that is unconditional. You have to be ready.
And you will.
You have to hurt to heal and you are hurting so you’re healing.
The world seems brighter again, like the colour is back and the sounds are sounds and light is light. You no longer feel like you’re living in a vacuum, the one thing nature abhors.
You no longer feel hollow, you just feel incomplete. Just a little cracked.
Work helps. The showing up day after day, organizing everyone else, shifting things and fixing problems, there for patients and doctors.
New people help. The new drama and issues and stories help distract you, pull you into a new world, new universe.
One where it’s like Robby never existed at all except for the child growing within you.
So, what can you say about today? The world seems brighter and you don’t feel hollow.
It’s a start.
Jack loved you first, by all accounts in the ED, you should have been with Jack—except that it was Robby who asked you out, who took that step. You said yes because he asked and Jack never did.
Jack loved you first and loves you still. He loves the way you laugh, just a tad too loud, just a tad too long, just a tad too hard. He loves the way you smile at everyone as if smiles take no effort to give out, as if it isn’t giving away a piece of yourself to others.
He loves the way you don’t put up with other people’s bullshit, the way you put them in their place in the most respectful way until respectful doesn’t work.
He loves the way you talk, the way you sigh and the way you roll your eyes. He loves the way you get excited about the things you love, lighting up and going on long tangents, only returning to the world when you realize that you’ve gotten carried away.
He loves you. Everything about you, everything you think is good about yourself and everything you think is bad because to him, everything about you is good and perfect.
He loves you and he loved you first, but he had to watch as Robby swooped in, winning you over and now he’s watching his friend, the man who a little part of him hates for winning your heart, fuck it all up.
“What the fuck is up with you, brother?” he asks Robby now, leaning on the nurse’s station with one elbow, his body facing Robby who’s looking down at the iPad in his hand, glasses sitting low on his nose.
“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Robby replies, tone distracted as he taps on the screen, doing something and pretending that he doesn’t know. Pretending that he doesn’t realize that everyone in the entire ED knows something happened between you and him. Because you, the ED’s Moonlight, aren’t here anymore.
“Where’s Moonlight?” Jack doesn’t leave any room in his tone for interpretation, there is nothing leading or suggesting, it’s straight and clear and to the point—where the fuck is the woman who loves you? What the fuck did you do to her? Because Jack is under no illusions that you did anything; he knows Robby.
He knows he runs when things get real.
“She, uh…she got promoted. Charge nurse up on Ortho last I heard,” Robby says, looking up, peering at Jack over the top of his black-frame glasses, the glasses you picked out for him, saying they would bring his youth back.
“That’s not what I meant, Robby,” he replies, lifting himself off of the nurse’s station, arms crossing, biceps flexing but not in a display of his toughness, rather because his leg hurts, the time on his feet, on the prosthetic wears at his skin, never enough time for it to really heal in-between shifts. “What happened?”
“None of your business, Jack,” Robby says, but Jack isn’t giving up that easily. He can’t. Not when this about you, about your heart.
“It is my fucking business, Robby, cause I love her too,” Jack hisses, reaching for Robby’s sleeve and pulling him into an empty patient room, closing the door behind them and standing in front of it, preventing Robby from leaving. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Me?! I didn’t do anything,” Robby says but all Jack does is raise his eyebrows, waiting. And it works. “She’s pregnant and I told her I couldn’t deal with it, suggested we could take care of it, she said no. I told her I wanted nothing to do with it and she told me to get the fuck out.”
“She’s pregnant and you left her?!” Jack cries, the feeling inside of him so foreign and so strange that he doesn’t entirely understand it, only that he doesn’t like it, doesn’t like the man before him, wants to put him through a fucking wall actually.
“I cannot deal with a kid right now, Jack,” Robby yells, his hand flying out to hit the wall, the bang in the room echoing and strong but Jack doesn’t fucking care, simply walks up to Robby and jabs his finger into his chest.
“Listen here, Robby,” he whispers, finger frozen dug into Robby’s chest, “you’re a piece of shit. You grew up without a mother and now you want your child to grow up without a father. That’s not gonna happen. I’m not gonna make you do anything, but I will be there and you and me,” he pulls his finger back, using it to gesture between them, “are done.” And he turns to go, to walk away and leave Robby behind, leave him to deal with his shit alone and simply find you.
Find you and hold you and let you cry, scream and hit him. Anything to make you feel better.
Anything to make you okay.
“Our friendship is over because of her?” Robby cries and Jack can hear the incredulity in his tone, can hear the disbelief and in response, all he does is hold up the middle finger, saying, “all of this is because you’re incapable of being a man worthy of someone else.”
And he leaves, but not to work, not to care for his patients. No, he leaves for you.
He leaves so that you know you don’t have to go it alone.
He’s here. He’s always here for you.
“Camille,” you call out, spinning around, looking for the new nurse, the one just finished her undergrad, eager and peppy and getting totally slaughtered by Park.
“Yeah?” she calls out and you can hear the worry in her tone, the worry that she’s doing yet another thing wrong—although you did tear into Park for disciplining one of your staff, not his.
“Can you check on the patient in Room 5, please?” you ask her, watching as her face brightens, the girl young and kind, good with the patients simply nervous around the doctor who isn’t nicknamed the Shark for nothing.
“Nice to see you running things,” calls a voice that makes you stop, the world freezing for a moment as you turn around, the sight of Jack strange to you, but not unwelcome.
“Hey, Jack,” you say, stepping out from behind the desk to lean your hip against it, crossing your arms over your chest, a layer of defence, of separation between you and him. “What’s up?”
“I know,” he says and you want to ask him what he knows but you can see in his face that he knows about your child, about your baby, about Robby’s baby. And the break-up. Robby’s side of the story.
“Well, what do you want to say? You here to defend him? Or are you here to encourage me to get rid of them?” You clench your teeth together, grinding them as you raise your eyebrows at him, waiting. Challenging.
And he does what you don’t expect. He steps towards you, his hands coming to rest on your biceps, a steady grip, a soothing grip.
“I’m here to say that he’s an asshole and as the shared friend, in the break-up someone has to get me and I chose you,” he says and the simplicity, the matter-of-factness of his tone takes you by surprise while also not because this is Jack. Jack Abbot, the doctor who on your first shift nicknamed you Moonlight and has refused to call you anything else since then.
Jack Abbot who chose you.
“You just want your cool uncle title, right?” you ask him, unable to prevent the fond smile that curls across your lips as he smirks at you, shrugging before growing serious.
“I chose you because I don’t want you doing this alone. I’m always here for you, Moonlight. You just gotta tell me and I’ll be there. Day or night, hell or high water, okay?” And all you can do is nod, your throat thick.
But he knows, he understands and then he salutes you, disappearing back to the Pitt, to his job and his patients, leaving you sitting with the knowledge that you don’t have to be alone.
You don’t have to do everything yourself.
It’s a few weeks later when you call Jack for the first time, a part of you still hesitant to believe him and his words, sweet as they may be. A part of you that still fears he really chose Robby; he just didn’t want you grieving them both. A part of you that thinks it was a symbolic offer only.
“Jack,” you say when he picks up, “I need your help.”
“What’s wrong, Moonlight? What is it? What do you need? Where are you?” You can feel the smile rising and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “And I can hear that eye roll, Moonie.”
“I need your help with the nursery. It’s kind of hard to paint when you have a baby bump.”
“Two minutes, Moonie,” he says, his words sending a strange feeling coursing through your veins. “I’ll be there in two minutes.”
Jack didn’t lie. He was there in two minutes, arriving as fast as he could, bursting into your apartment, using his spare key that you gave him from your vacation when you needed him to take care for your orchid, carrying a bag of painting supplies.
“Just tell me what to do,” he said and so you did. And he listened to what you wanted, helping you paint, the day filled with laughter and joking and flicking paint at one another, the creation exactly as you always thought it would be one day.
Happy.
You just didn’t imagine it would be Jack.
“I should head out,” he had said at the end of the day, the sky dark and the room painted, a mural of the moon on one wall that he insisted you add because you’re Moonlight, after all.
“You know,” you had replied, “the guest room’s yours if you want it.” He had frozen in his movements for a moment before turning to you, a question in those blue eyes of his.
“You sure?” You had nodded, shrugging, your hands settling on your bump, the baby finally old enough to start showing, your favourite thing to do being rubbing it as if you’re holding and soothing them already.
“Yeah. I still have stuff for you in there from when you took care of my orchid and I did buy more of that cream for your prosthetic. Just in case…so, uh, yeah…it’s yours if you want to stay.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
“Would I have offered if I didn’t? After all, I’m eating for two and I’m a horrible cook and I mean, guess who isn’t?” you had said, the words so normal and so you that Jack had started to laugh and then he’d nodded.
“Guess I’ll stay then,” he’d said. “Anything you and the little star want in the morning?” You had scrunched your face, thinking hard about it, glancing down at your bump, rubbing it as you thought.
“Nothing specific,” you had said, a grin stretching across your face, “but nothing with chocolate. The little star, here, isn’t craving it, surprisingly.”
“Alright then,” he’d said. “Nothing with chocolate.”
And that’s how it began. It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t flashy or showy—it was just there. Steady and calm.
Present in a way that Robby never was.
“Jack,” you whisper, the words carrying across the living room to where he’s dozing in the recliner, The Proposalplaying on your TV. “Jack!” you hiss a little louder, watching as he jolts fast, hands white-knuckling the armrests of his chair, looking over at you and relaxing when he sees that you’re fine.
“What’s wrong, Moonlight?” he asks you and you push past that feeling that spreads through at the nickname, at the tender way he says it, the care.
The love.
“You know you can take your leg off, right?” you ask him and you watch as he freezes again, seeming to do that a lot around you. “I’m under no illusion that you have two full legs, nor do I think less of you.”
“It’s okay,” he says and you shrug, nodding beside his chair where a set of crutches and a knee scooter sit beside it.
“Okay,” you say, voice soft. “But I have supports for you if you want to take it off.” And you say nothing else, simply standing as carefully as you can, the five-month bump no small thing now, heavy and awkward but precious all the same. Your baby has fun pressing on your bladder and you make your way to the bathroom to relieve the pressure and when you come back, you find Jack sitting in the recliner, the leg rest up, his prosthetic leaning against the side of the couch.
And that gives you a better feeling than any of the nicknames in the world.
Morning sickness was only supposed to last for the first trimester, but here you are, second trimester with the bump to prove it, still hurtling out of your bed, the taste and burn of bile welling in your throat, running for your bathroom.
You reach the sink, the only place that’s easy for you to reach, now unable to bend down and throw up into the toilet, just in time, your hands straying to your hair as you gag, eyes watering, bile rising.
“Hey,” you hear Jack whisper, his approach something you hadn’t even heard, his hands replacing yours as he holds your hair back, yours instead gripping the counter as you throw up bile, the awful taste and burn in the back of your throat, in your sinuses, your body rebelling against you.
“It’s okay,” he whispers as you hurl, the force so much that it comes out of your nose, your eyes streaming, the baby kicking against you as if they know you’re sick, in pain and they don’t like it.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he assures you as you gasp, the gagging rising again. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m always here for you.”
Jack is the one who is there for every appointment, holding your hand, who answers yes when the doctors ask if he’s the father. He’s the one you find hunched over a crib one day, assembling it on the floor, squinting at instructions and cursing the tiny writing, his leg not far from him, a chair just across from him for you.
Jack is the one who is there for everything. He’s there when you’re sick in the middle of the night, in the morning. He’s there when you have cravings, when you worry, when you want to pick names.
He’s the one whose there, always.
And gradually, you begin to think of him as the father, as the one because he may not be the sperm donor, but he’s the one whose here.
He’s the one who stayed.
Jack is the one who chose your baby.
Who chose you.
And that means something to you.
“Jack,” you whisper across the living room, your voice carrying to him and he looks over at you, eyes sleepy but filled with love.
“Yeah, Moonie?” he asks you, screwing his prosthetic back on, still finding it the easiest to move around with, to help you with.
“I love you,” you whisper and swallow hard, still unsure why you said it, but really it’s been eight months of him. Of him stepping up to be the father for your child, being the partner for you.
“Thank god,” he breathes out, standing and walking to you, his hands looping under your armpits, helping guide you to your feet, your eight-month bump heavy and exhausting, but perfect all the same. “I’ve loved you since I met you.”
“Really?” you ask him, watching as he smiles in the dark, teeth glinting just lightly with the glow of the streetlamps outside your window.
“Really,” he answers and then he kisses you, one soft and sweet and gentle. One that tastes of hope and love and second chances and family chosen.
One that speaks of the love that lives between you. One that is quiet and steady and present in a way that nothing has been before.
For either of you.
When you went into labour, it scared Jack like nothing ever had before. It terrified him like nothing ever had. The call he got as you drove yourself to the hospital, having timed your contractions, assuring him that you were fine. That it was all fine.
That didn’t stop him from being scared, being terrified. He had just gotten you, only had a month of being someone you loved out loud rather than in silence and he couldn’t lose you.
He had run out of the ED so fast, up to the maternity ward, watching as you walked up, breathing hard, checking in. He had been there as you went into labour, your hand squeezing his so hard, one knuckle dislocated but he never even felt it because he was so in awe in you.
He stayed for the whole thing, cut the cord on the beautiful baby boy, the two of you had agreed to name Andrew Flynn Abbot, a ring on your finger from the night before when he asked you if you would not only be his wife, but make him a father.
He was there for everything, for the birth and the signing of the birth certificate and the travelling home, his stuff moved in a month ago, his clothes hanging in your closet, his things in your house—now his too.
He was there for everything. Every little bit because he loved you first.
And he loves you always.
“You know,” Jack says now, his fingers interlaced with yours as you lie with your head on his chest, curled up in bed, “I have to thank Robby.”
“For what?” you ask him, not judging, just happy, at peace, curled in bed beside your husband, five year old son asleep in bed.
“For giving me my son, my wife,” he whispers and in response you press a kiss to his cheek.
“He didn’t,” you whisper, “that was all you. You stepped up, Jackie and you didn’t have too.”
“Yeah, I did. You’re everything sweetheart. I’m always here for you.” And it’s true. He always is, always was.
Hi!! How about nurse!reader who just returned from maternity leave, and jack can’t keep his eyes off her new mom body
** I got a bit lost in the sauce and accidentally made her a resident...oops! So sorry, but hope you still enjoy!
Mommy Makeover
Jack Abbot x f!young wife!reader
Warnings: suggestive talk!, Jack being an obsessed husband, fluff, illusions of sex, but not explicitly stated, italics, and a whole lot of foul language...lmk if I'm missing anything!
Starting your first night shift back from maternity leave was truly spiritual warfare. You didn’t know what you were thinking leaving your new baby in your mom’s hands. Not that she was a bad sitter, she’s watched your siblings children a billion times and you truly trusted her with your life. Literally.
She was still your emergency contact even after you had been married to your husband, Jack, for two years.
You just couldn’t bear the thought going from spending every waking moment with her since she was born, bonding, the barely coherent newborn smiles, the newborn scent, and changing her diapers, to working the night shift again, 30 min from her, til sun up.
You came to the conclusion you not only have severe attachment issues for your husband but now your daughter together. That was a given.
“She’s back!” Dana called from the nurses station. Wide smile on her face.
“Whoop whoop!” Pearla and Princess shouted alongside her. You smiled widely at them, feigning small bows and curtesys for them as you made your way to the lockers.
You smiled fondly at the kind gesture your husband had left for you when you got here. He showed up early, something about ‘charts from my GSW patient’ that needed to be updated. So your mom had dropped you off.
A small lilac sticky note, with “Welcome back, honey. Have a great day, I love you :),” written on it. You couldn’t get enough of this man.
Today is gonna be a good day. You thought to yourself, unloading your bags into your locker, preparing for your first shift.
You made your way back to the hub to prepare for rounds that started in the next 10 minutes. You couldn’t even make it to the counter before Robby snuck up on you, a hug that lifted you into the air, eliciting a small yelp. It got the attention of everyone from the day shift, their excitement to see you back, not being hidden.
“Hi! I missed you guys. I feel like I've been gone too long." You hugged the day shift, not knowing how deeply missed you were.
"Finally, Jack will be less tense." Parker came up, just now arriving for her shift. "He was going nuts." He hugged you from behind, her arms coming across your shoulders.
"He couldn't have been that bad." You gave her a look, not believing your husband had been that much of a hard ass since you've been home.
"He was. Seems like he'll have bigger problems at hand." She motioned to your whole figure. Sizing you up. "Looking good, mama." She seemed very giddy at your appearance. You knew it wasn't objectifying, I mean, she had been your best friend, so this was just purely pre-shift hyping up.
You gave her a spin, the other women at the nurses' station giving their oohs and aahs. Dana agreed, "Yeah, got that new mom bod goin'. You look fabulous."
You noticed your hips got wider, your ass got thicker, and you had more to work with when it came to your boobs. You noticed the change a few weeks after giving birth. Jack was loving it, not that he hadn't before, clearly. But he hadn't seen you in scrubs since your last shift, pregnant belly being the only thing filling your work attire.
Now your scrubs were hugging all the right places. You blushed at everyone's affection, already excited for the new day.
You had been well into your shift, falling back into place like you had never left. You had repaired lacerations from an MVC, unfortunate freak accidents, and even did a few sutures down in triage. You were feeling really good.
Now, you were charting, sitting idly in a chair next to the nurses' station. You hadn't noticed your husband a few feet away, his feet carrying him in your direction. Perhaps that's cause he was moving slowly, taking in the sight of you.
He'd obviously worked with you in some of the traumas that came in earlier in the night, his gaze lingering when you bent over to grab stuff out of the crash carts. But this time, he could appreciate what he was seeing in its fullness. Literally.
He approached you, taking in the sight before him. Your legs close together, the fullness in your thighs looking like they could break free from the scrubs, he silently and selfishly wished they did.
The way you looked so delectable doing absolutely nothing. "Hey, baby, how's your shift going?" He spoke lowly, only so you could hear. His eyes were raking over just about every inch of your figure before he finally made eye contact.
"Hi," You smiled at him. You had missed him. "It's going pretty good so far, forgot how much I missed the ED." You grabbed his forearm, his hand tucked away in his pockets as he took the space next to you.
As fast as you placed it, you removed your hand. He desperately wanted you to put your hand back, not being able to control himself.
"I might die seeing you here." He stated, eyes trained on your charting, not actually paying attention to what it says, though. He couldn't. How could he?
"What?" You looked at him, a soft chuckle escaping your full lips.
"You're literally giving me heart palpatations sitting here, looking like that, and you don't even care." His hand started from your upper back, slowly making it's way to the base of your neck while he spoke. "Forget that I have a smoke show for a wife."
"Oh, Jack. Please. You'll live. You see me every day at home." You rolled your eyes, very playfully. Hiding the blush settling in your cheeks.
A trauma rolled in, Shen calling for Jack, which seemed like a lot, and he couldn't find Ellis. "Yeah, but this," He motioned to you as he started walking away, barely able to rip his eyes off you long enough to see where he was going. "This is heavenly. Maybe I've finally died and gone to heaven."
You couldn't take him sometimes. The dramatics seemingly been increasing over the last few months.
Now, you were assisting in their trauma, standing on one side of the bed, Shen on the other. You had been called in, just to observe watching Jack do his thing. You forgot how good he looked when he was in his zone. Calm, cool, and levelheaded.
But he was pulled away for a brief conversation with the surgeon; you didn't have time to try and hear before Shen was immediately asking for your assistance to take Jack's place.
"His BP's dropping. We need to intubate so they can prep him for the OR." You grabbed the chest tube, angling yourself behind the patient's head, hoping to get the best angle you could. You slid it in, feeding it through the patient's airway, your arms coming closer together as you watched the slack descend.
Jack's conversation was over, and he was now standing a few inches to your right. He should be supervising, watching, and making sure you haven't lost your touch in the four months you had off. He was, but he was also watching the way that your arms closed in on your chest, making your boobs look insanely good.
Of course, there was no cleavage out to the naked eye, though he partly wished there was, but he had seen you naked and in any clothing that left little to the imagination enough times to know exactly what you looked like under.
He was singing your praises at your work as the patient was successfully intubated and ready for transport to the OR, and he just didn't care. Not when you're standing shoulder to shoulder now, and you look the way you do.
He was gawking at his wife, treating patients, and supervising. A lot to do at once, but Jack was a man of efficiency and skill. So who said a man can't multitask at work?
Jack was in the break room, brewing his what, fourth cup of horrible coffee when you had walked in.
A heavy sigh left your lips, you hand in your hair, taking out the ponytail you had put in, deciding to rest comfortably for your little break.
Jack just watched the way you moved. The way your legs carried that beautiful body that gave him a beautiful baby girl, the way when you huffed just seconds ago, your lips settling in their perfect shape, the way your top was literally making you look crazy angelic even though you have mystery fluids adorning the inseams.
You could be wearing a trash bag right now, and he still would be tracing your every move. He was so lost in the way you just existed in his space, in his lifetime, and he was lucky enough to be the one you went home to with, that he hadn't heard you greet him. "Hm?"
You sat perched in the chair he appeared to be sitting in before your arrival. "I said, Hey, baby." Your hair fell onto your shoulders, making you look tirelessly pretty in this godforsaken lighting.
"Hi, sweetheart." He walked over and gave you a kiss. Quick but still sweet.
"I loved your little note you left me in my locker. You're such a cute husband." You giggled as he took the seat next to you, his hand instinctively finding a place on your thigh.
You two didn't care about the closeness and the intimacy now. You two were in a private room away from patients and other coworkers, not like they care, but you and Jack refused to get another HR visit.
Not after you two so carelessly disappeared for a bit too long in one of the on-call rooms. You both definitely went over the possibility that that's how you two conceived your daughter. But you both just let it go.
"Good, I knew you would. Just needed you to start the shift off right." Jack downplayed his affection to merely acts of bare minimum service. You loved him doting on you. He's done it since you both met, you think that's why you fell inlove with him so quickly.
His little acts of affection, whether they were small gifts, little notes like the one he left you this morning, or just doing things he knows you'd appreciate without being asked to.
You kissed his cheek, laying your head on his shoulder. You figured since you had him here, what else to do than to use your husband as a pillow for your resting eyes during your small thirty-minute break.
The silence in which you both sat was completely ruined the second Shen walked in. "There's the new momma." He smiled widely. He hadn't been able to properly greet you, both of you being thrown into traumas and focused on being doctors rather than any formalities.
"Hello." You smiled, your eyes tired, half-opened, but more than welcoming to this conversation.
"You look great, are you sure you just had a baby?"
"Ugh, stop it. Thank you." You swatted a hand his way, blushing incessantly, hiding your face in Jack's neck.
"I see, you somehow get ten times prettier and Jack gets so old he forgot how razors work." He poked fun at his friend.
"Hey, watch it. It only happened once, and I was insanely hungover." He rolled his eyes, you and Shen giggling at his embarrassment.
"I think it looks great. I love the scruffy look." You grabbed his chin, your fingers dancing over the prickly hairs that grew longer by the day on your husband's face. You kissed the corner of his mouth softly.
"Clearly, last time he had it that long, you two announced your pregnancy a week later." Shen rolled his eyes, now disgusted that he remembered that piece of information. "Ew, I actually don't need to be reminded that my older attending's sex life is better than mine."
You and Jack laughed heartily at that, watching him excuse himself and get back to work.
"For the record, you did get ten times prettier. I don't know how anyone is acting normal about this." He nipped at your jaw, peppering kisses anywhere he could. He seriously had a problem.
"Maybe that's because they just see me at work, not in all the ways that make our relationship different from the ones I have with them." You gave him a pointed look, "You're also my husband, you have to say that."
"I absolutely do not. I'm just speaking the truth. Didn't know there were levels to you being so hot." You had to stop Jack from kissing you before this turned into another on-call room fiasco. You could not sleep with your husband at work on your first day back.
"Okay, cool it, Dracula. You cannot eat me alive in this break room." You tried to swat his face away. Failing miserably.
"Can't I? Show everyone why you let me put a baby in you?" You literally choked on the sip of coffee you had stolen from him. You laughed out loud, neck growing redder by the second. Now you really had to leave.
"Absolutely not, Jack. I'm going to work before you baby trap me." You already had a baby together, so there was no use in fighting it.
"I'll let you baby trap me any day. No, seriously, what's this about liking the scruff?" You got up from your seat, indulging as you actively started heading towards the door.
"I think you look very handsome with salt and pepper everywhere." You winked as you looked down. Insinuating something very inappropriate.
"Oh yeah? So does this mean if I keep it, you'll give me another one?" You sighed, not even ready for that type of commitment yet. You just had Tatum; the last thing you were thinking about was having another baby.
"Goodbye, honey." You walked out of the room, leaving Jack, not too far behind, though. But far enough, you didn't have to listen to his nonsense.
Your shift was about to be over, you were just doing a quick once-over of your charts, preparing for the swap as Jack collected your guys' things.
You had been minding your business when you heard someone talking to you. "Excuse me, ma'am. Do you happen to be seeing anyone? Cause you're like so beautiful," You rolled your eyes, already recognizing the gravel in his low voice.
You smiled at your husband. "You're so pretty, you make the angels in heaven jealous. So can I, like, get your number?" He caged you in the counter. Both his arms on either side of you.
He already had your bag and his, his jacket covering his scrub top. "Hm, I don't think so. I have a hot husband that I refuse to let look at another woman." You shrugged.
"Oh, do tell."
"Yeah, he's an army vet, turned ER doctor. He's super hot and jacked. His muscles are so sexy, it's even sexier when they're wrapped around my neck when we-" You were cut off by a now amused but very scared and embarrassed Jack. You loved making him flustered in public settings. You spent your whole MS3 year doing just that; that's why he put a ring on it. He secretly enjoyed it too.
You had been lucky that there was no one close enough to hear your hushed whispering. "Alright, I'll take the hint. Lucky guy." He wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You had discarded the tablet, now following your husband out of the ER.
"Yeah, even gave him a baby." You punched his ribs softly as you two walked to your car. His eyes were watching as he opened the door, and you got in. He truly loved the way motherhood was sitting with you.
You guys had driven to your mother's house. You picked up your baby and were finally headed home. You loved that this was your new normal. Car rides with not just you and Jack, but a little piece of both of you. The constant reminder of the love you two shared for each other.
"Isn't she so cute?" You said as you watched your baby coo at you in the back seat. You hadn't really said it for a response, just throwing it out in the open that your baby was the cutest thing you've ever seen.
Jack had been looking in the rearview, silently agreeing with you on what you had been talking about, but also just looking at you. "Yeah, she is." His eyes stayed on you. You looked up. Meeting his gaze.
"Eyes on the road, old man. We have precious cargo." You blew him a kiss before he looked away. He smiled softly to himself.
"Yes, ma'am."
He got you all home safely, of course. You expected nothing less. You settled into your quiet home, putting the baby in her nursery, before you and Jack cooked something to eat.
You ate, had conversations about your shift, the comments that you got after being back, and all he could do was watch the way your eyes lit up at the praise and how you missed being back at work. "Are you even listening?" You said, getting up and collecting the bowls from your guys' meal.
"Yeah, of course I am." He was, he really was. But he was back to watching the way you sauntered off into the kitchen, still in your scrubs, and he still had all those thoughts about how you looked unbelievable in a work uniform.
"Really? Cause you've been giving me the same look all day. Like you haven't seen me in my scrubs since I started working in the Pitt." You smiled softly. Rinse the bowls, opting to wash them later.
"There's something about the way you look right now. I'm insanely turned on." His straight face, which he maintained throughout the whole conversation, was comical.
"Jack," You perched yourself on his lap, your waist slightly brushing against the table, your legs off to one side as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You were peppering kisses all over his face.
"You're being dramatic. I look the same in my work clothes."
"Nuh uh. You look like those hot doctors I used to have in my wet dreams." He kissed your neck, finally able to do something about this image he's had of you all day.
"Oh, wow. You're insane."
"You like it." His whispers were getting lost in the trail of kisses he was leaving down to your collarbone.
"Mhm."
"You know what's even better than seeing you in your scrubs again?" His eyes met yours now. Your breath fanning his face, still dazed by the slow sleepy drunk kisses he was leaving on you seconds ago.
"What is that?" You dipped your head, matching his desire as you started kissing everywhere your lips could reach.
"The fact that I'll be taking them off you." You squealed when he lifted you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style to your shared bedroom.
"Oh? Figured you want me to keep these on since you're so hellbent on ogling me all day."
"Wait...that's an option?"
"No, Jack. Take me to bed or lose me forever." An endless stream of giggles you left in your wake as Jack quickened his speed.
