#dr. jack abbott

[lovepollution]

jack abbot + emojis

[incorrect-the-pitt]

[fangirl-dot-com]

Lacy, oh, Lacy

summary: the three times jack abbot compared you to someone else vs. the one time you were exactly who he wanted but couldn't have anymore.

tags: jack abbot x reader, angst, deep insecurities, jack compares you to samira, robby, and his late-wife (I named her alice), a few scene changes but it's for the plot, trying out [name] but if I don't like it, it's back to y/n for all of you, jack is lowkey an asshole on accident (thinks he's meaning well by complimenting others, but tears you apart in the process), medical inaccuracies, hurt/no comfort (at least for jack), eventual breakup, special end scene guest star, age gape (28-32/50), heavily inspired by lacy by olivia rodrigo (which I suggest listening to while you read) and all the feels that come with that, 18+ MDNI

notes: this hurt to write, and this better hurt y'all in the best angsty way possible! just a reminder that my requests for the hatosyverse are open, and that I'm doing smutty blurbs to build my writing abilities, enjoy!

word count: 7.4k

You didn't understand how you'd been able to score Jack Abbot.

Somehow, the universe decided that you'd be his match, the one he chose to go home to at the end of a bad shift, the one who'd been able to give him the most comfort during his darkest days. You knew what you'd be getting into: the PTSD, the depression, shifts where he felt more like your boss than your partner. But you believed you could get through it; Jack was older, and you liked to think you were mature enough to handle anything thrown your way.

For almost a year, your relationship bloomed in stolen glances across the Pitt, hidden moments in supply closets, and late-night baths spent at his house trying to bury yourself next to his heart. Jack was it for you, and you let yourself dream about a future, ring on your finger, possible children running around the house you shared. The two of you rarely fought, often choosing to apologize for anything under the sun before arguments grew too large for your feelings.

Never once did Jack make you feel inadequate, even if you had voiced early on that you truly didn't understand why he picked you. Compared to his gorgeous salt-and-pepper curls and freckled skin and large stature, you felt plain. Your hair was always pulled into a slick ponytail, makeup caused acne breakouts after 12-hour shifts, and what little time you had to yourself, you spent it at home, reading a book, instead of going out with friends and colleagues. People looked at you without so much as a second glance. Jack, on the other hand, made heads turn and nurses blush if they somehow caught his attention long enough for him to send a look their way. You couldn't remember the last time you went through a shift where a female (or sometimes male) patient failed to make a comment about the sexy, silver fox doctor.

You never made it more than it was: harmless flirting from people Jack would never think about again once they got discharged.

After, you and he had gone through the HR meetings, the contract signings, and the swearing that your relationship wouldn't get in the way of saving lives or have Jack start playing favorites. To further this, around the 9-month mark of being Jack's, they plucked you from the safety of the nightshift and dropped you right into Robby's hands. But this was how it was going to be from now on; there was no point in arguing as long as you got to keep Jack.

For three months, you persevered. Finding a groove with an already well-oiled shift proved to be harder than it looked. People talked. Nurses gossiped. Doctors speculated. You, through it all, kept your chin high. Their words didn't get to dictate your relationship. During handoffs, Jack still swept you into his arms and kissed you like a man coming back from war. He still told you that dinner was in the fridge once you got home and napped. He still continued to send updates during his shift, text messages from the separate night-shift group chat made after your departure chiming loudly while you ate. And most important of all, he still loved you.

However, nothing could have prepared you for the three times you felt the most unloved. I care, I care, I care, like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time, watchin', hidden in plain sight, ooh, I try, I try, I try, but it takes over my life, I see you everywhere, the sweetest torture one could bear "Hey, Dana," you called out while swimming through the chaos only brought on by a 4th of July shift.

At her name, Dana looked up over the thin frames of her glasses, pausing momentarily to look your way before going back to her board. "Please don't tell me that the 36 hot dog guy is back."

You shook your head, hands coming to rest on top of the vinyl counter. "Not that I'm aware of."

"Thank heavens. What can I do for ya, hun?"

Leaning in, you did a quick glance around the department. "I heard Jack was here early?"

Her eyebrows almost rose to her hairline. "Yeah; he came in with one of his SWAT buddies. GSW to the man's neck, but it looks like he's going to be okay." She reached over and grabbed a tablet. "Actually, can you find Jack for me? He wanted an update ASAP."

Your fingers drummed against the counter anxiously before you took the tablet from her. "I was just about to ask if you'd seen him."

Dana glanced over your shoulder and stuck out her chin in the same direction. "Saw him duck into Room 15. Might be taking a breather; Lord knows he needs one after that raid." She gave you a knowing look, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe you're exactly what he needs."

A rush of heat flooded your face, eyes darting away from hers. "I'll see if I can find him."

You turned away before she could say anything more, hands desperately holding the tablet to your chest. Your shoes squeaked against the tile floor, steps bringing you closer to the room Jack was supposedly in. Once at the door, you raised a hand to draw the curtain away, but the sound of voices—plural—had you stopping. Saliva pooled between your teeth as you listened closely.

"—is the hospital going to pay for it?"

There was a pause before Jack clearly grumbled, "I'll pay for it."

You slowly moved to the side next to the wall where the curtain didn't completely cut the room off. Through the slot, your eyes widened at the sight of a Jack, shirt off, pale chest, wound-care swab twirling in his fingers with Samira sitting in one of the chairs. In the next beat, she stood and walked right past the curtain slot, completely oblivious that you were right behind it. She stopped near the wall and grabbed a pair of gloves before snapping them on.

His brows furrowed. "What are you doing?"

She smiled before rounding to stand behind him. "What you clearly can't."

Begrudgingly, he handed over the swab.

"Did you make a chart?" she asked while dipping the cotton end into a wound cream.

Jack crossed his arms, and his shoulders rolled and dipped. "No. This can stay off the books. Don't need the paperwork from the hospital or police department."

Samira paused. "Would you rather me go get Dr. [Name]? I'm sure she could do this much better than I could."

"No," Jack responded, shaking his head. "She'd just panic about this. There's no need to throw her off her game."

Your stomach flipped. He thought you'd panic? Sure, you'd be worried, but it wasn't like you hadn't seem him hurt before. Whatever wound he had on his back wouldn't be the worst thing he'd come home with after a SWAT shift.

"Isn't she your girlfriend?" She began dabbing at his back, the swab coming back bloodied.

"Yeah, but it's different with you. I don't have to worry about you taking your time or being indifferent about this." He winced at a deeper brush into the graze. "She's not like you, Dr. Mohan. She wears everything on her sleeve. Really, she could learn how to be more level headed like you, Dr. Mohan. I've seen the way you handle traumas. We wouldn't be so in the low if we had about 10 more of you."

He ended with a chuckle like what he just said didn't feel like a knives to your stomach.

Is that what he really thought about you? That you should be more like Samira and her ability to stay cool through anything thrown at her? With a blink, your eyes glossed over.

Jack turned his head, neck twisting to he could meet Samira's eyes. "You won't tell her about this, right? Our little secret?"

You didn't stay to hear what she said, choosing to turn around before you could watch any longer. It was incredible that you were able to stay for so long, submitting yourself to a new kind of torture. Walking back to the nurses station, your steps slowed as if molasses coated the floor, its stickiness clinging to your shoes.

At your oncoming presence, Dana looked over. "Did you find him, hun?"

You forced yourself to not look back at the closed curtain. "Yeah, but he's in the middle of something right now. I'll just catch up with him later."

The tablet gave a small thud as you placed it back into the holder, and you desperately tried to find another patient to busy yourself with, specifically one furthest from Room 15. However, before you could grab one, a hand wrapped around your elbow and tugged.

"Hey, I need you for the incoming trauma," Langdon said as he dragged you with him. "Twenty-year-old female, unconscious for an unknown matter of time."

You nodded silently, allowing him to keep walking you like a dog on a leash until he stopped in front of the ambulance bay sliding doors. Your lungs expanded in a deep, wavering breath.

Now was not the time to panic. You could do this. You could be like Samira. You could show Jack that you could handle a trauma.

During your internal pep talk, the doors slid open, giving way for the gurney and two paramedics.

"BP is 140-over-92 and climbing. No relevant medical history. She woke up once on the way over and vomited before passing out again."

You quickly followed Langdon into the first trauma room and helped transfer her over onto the bed. Immediately, numbers started being shouted while you started your initial exam.

When nothing seemed to blare any red flags, Langdon started impatient as the woman kept deteriorating. Through it all, you willed your hands to stay steady, your mind calm while you mentally went through what could be the matter. You took a step forward, body positioning near her head so you could look at her pupils one more time, and that's when you smelled it: the acrid, fruity smell puffing out of her mouth as she struggled to breath.

You jerked back quickly. "Dr. Langdon, is there a history of diabetes or hyperglycemia? Her breath smells like rotting fruit."

Langdon looked over at you before leaning toward her face. He hissed a curse before barking for a blood sugar test. Your eyes widened when the screen flashed a 450 mg/dL.

"She's experiencing diabetic ketoacidosis," you breathed.

"Let's get her on an insulin drip, now," Langdon hissed, face pinched until he looked over at you with a softer expression. "Great job catching that and staying calm." He chuckled slightly. "Never seen you like this but keep it up."

You knew his words were meant to be encouraging, but all they did was send bile up your throat. Without saying anything more, you tore off the gloves and shoved them deep into a biohazard bin. You wanted to cry, wanted to find the nearest restroom and tug at your hair.

But that's not what Samira would do your mind provided; the thought ugly and green. She'd shrug it all off and keep working like nothing was the matter.

Your teeth ground together, shoulders squaring in tandem. If everyone would rather have you calm, you'd be calm. You'd tuck your heart away rather than show it to the patients who needed someone that wore it on their sleeve. You picked up another tablet at the nurses station and got back to work.

The rest of the fourth went by in a tornado. Systems went down after a cyberattack; fireworks boomed off in the distance; you stayed busy. Each of your patients were in and out at a lightning speed, and by the start of the night shift, you were ready to go home and cry your heart out into a pillow.

You'd seen Samira every so often in between patients and a small lunch break. Like always, she smiled at you and waved and chatted when she could, but her actions made you want to wither up like a dead flower. You couldn't help but stare at her, thinking that you should be more like the woman in front of you, mind comparing your features to hers at a rapid speed you couldn't stop. She somehow looked like an angel in the middle of a place jokingly nicknamed one of the seven layers of hell, skin clear and hair somehow perfectly put in a bun. You tried your best to match her enthusiasm, but the poison had already been drank.

On the contrary, the only time you really saw Jack was at the start of handoffs. He had helped with one trauma before going to the on-call room for a needed nap, and you hadn't wanted to talk to him then, scared of how he'd act around you.

"There you are, sweetheart," you heard him say as you finished up converting with Lena about the man in Room 5. "I've been looking for you. Thought you might have left without saying goodbye."

You winced slightly. "No; I've just been busy."

Jack hummed and smiled warmly at you, but the expression was tainted by his words earlier. "I heard. Langdon's been nothing but praising you for earlier. I'm proud of you."

"Sure you are," you muttered too lowly for him to catch. Your lips thinly stretched into a smile that didn't meet your tired eyes. "Thank you, Jack," you settled on instead.

His hazel eyes scanned over your face, and his smile slightly dropped. "Are you okay, though? You look a little down."

"I'm fine," you shot out. "Today's just been long, and I'm ready to get home."

Jack nodded. "I left food in the fridge for you, so make sure you eat it after you sleep for a bit."

"Got it."

He looked at you expectantly before rolling his eyes. "Come here."

Like it had been etched into your DNA, you listened and fell into his open arms, face tucking into his chest. He squeezed you tightly before placing a kiss to your temple.

"Proud of you," he said. "You do such a good job. We need so many doctors like you, my perfect girl."

Perfect felt like a twist of the knife, because if you were so perfect, why had he told Samira that he wished you were more like her? I feel your compliments like bullets on skin. Dazzling starlet, Bardot reincarnate, well, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist? As the weeks went on, Jack's words never left your soul, the damage irreparable in everything that you did.

Second guessing yourself had been a struggle you'd dealt with since an earlier age. Normally, Jack would be able to quiet all those thoughts; he had chosen you; he loved you. But now, as you second guessed everything you did, you also second guessed everything Jack said. You picked apart every encouragement, every compliment, every sweet promise he whispered in your ear.

What he said now couldn't be taken at face value, and you wondered if that feeling would ever go away. You'd asked him about the bullet graze a few days after the 4th, acting completely oblivious to what you knew. Like you thought, Jack assured you that he got it handled and for you to not worry about it, like that did anything to settle the rolling feelings in your stomach.

You tried your best to move on, knowing you'd only bring yourself down more if you dwelled too long about really how much Jack's words had affected you while he never said anything directly to your face. The idea that he wanted you to be like someone else made your heart clench tightly to the point you often wanted to call off work, hoping that you could just wallow in self pity for hours and hours.

But the Pitt did not care for you like that; it demanded twelve hour shifts and grueling doubles. So every day, you rolled out of bed before Jack got home and pulled up your big girl pants.

You worked through it. You'd learned how to stay calm, how to not panic under duress, and it killed you to admit that you'd become a better doctor because of it. You hardly ever hiccuped during a trauma, gaining compliments from the surgeons and Robby for your techniques that were close to flawless. For the smallest second, you would preen under their words before the ugly, repulsive reminder that they might not be real swallowed you down in a nasty gulp.

"Dr. [Name] follow me please," Robby called as he brushed past the nurses station where you were currently typing away at a chart, hands clutching a chart out in front of him to read. "Quickly."

You pushed up from the desk, chair rolling far behind you from the force of your legs. Not wanting to lose him, you rounded the counter and jumped into his long stride.

"Yes, Dr. Robby?" you asked.

As far as you knew, there weren't any incoming traumas and it was too late in the day for him to have questions about your patients that were currently waiting for a room.

Robby paused in front of an empty trauma room. "Jack just let me know that he found a man in need of medical attention and is bringing him in before handoffs, and I thought you could help him out." He handed you the tablet, already ready to go with updated information.

You took a quick glance over this. "Um, Dr. Robby, it looks like he'll need a pericardiocentesis."

"It's good that you know exactly what he'll need. What's the issue?"

Your eyes looked from the screen to his brown eyes. "I've never done one before."

He simply smiled at you and patted your shoulder. "That's why Jack's going to lead you through it. I would stay, but since he's coming in early, I'm going to head out."

You tried to quirk a smile. "Got a hot date waiting for you?"

A low chuckle shook his shoulders. "You got jokes. My bike needs some repairs, and today's the only day I can get it into the shop. But I know you'll be just fine. Your improvement in traumas will only grow if you step out of your comfort zone."

The automatic sliding doors slid open, and Jack plus a nurse wheeled a man through on a gurney. Jack's eyes lit up at the sight of you, but his brows pinched when he noticed Robby's bag slung over the taller man's shoulder.

"You leaving early, brother?" Jack questioned as he stepped past the two of you.

Robby's hand gently rested on your shoulder. "Yeah, but you two will have this handled."

You inhaled deeply, the weight of his hand and words pushing down on your chest.

Robby was counting on you. Don't fuck this up. Don't panic.

With the tablet tucked under your arm, you walked into the trauma room before pulling on a pair of gloves. Jack had already cut through the man's shirt.

"I need two 18-gage needles, one 9cm and one 15cm, a guidewire, dilator, and 8Fr pigtail catheter." He looked up toward Jesse. "Let's give him 10ml lignocaine 1%."

You quickly gather what he needed and placed him on the dressing that covered the side tray.

"Okay, Dr. [Name]," Jack said, lips twitching upwards at using your official name, "I need you to place an ECG electrode on the pericardiocentesis needle with a crocodile clip and insert. Once the tip touches the myocardium, the trace should show immediate ST elevation. Once that comes up, insert the wire to aspirate the fluid."

His words tumbled through your mind much too fast to the point that you wondered if he didn't know you'd never done this before. You pursed your lips as you tried to remember everything. In the grand scheme of things, your training provided everything that needed to be done.

Yet, there was a big difference between studying and actually doing the procedure.

You kept your breath steady as you readied the needle, clamping on a clip before turning the pointed end toward the man's chest. The first part went smoothly, and the needle went right through. However, instead of the consistent beeping that should have followed if the needle was in properly, an onslaught of alarms sounded through your ears.

You had missed something.

Jack whipped his head toward you and sneered. "You went too deep. I told you that the needle needed to touch the myocardium not go all the way through. Give it here."

He didn't even wait for you to transfer the needle over, hands already grabbing at it. His head bent down so he could see what was happening. With a practiced ease, he maneuvered the needle exactly where it should have been.

"Fuck," he whispered, "Robby wouldn't have done that. I don't know why he handed this off to you if he knew the patient would need a pericardiocentesis for tamponade."

You thickly swallowed pooling saliva to clear your throat. "Sorry."

"Just—" He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. "I'll finish up here. You go home."

You jolted just a bit. Go home?

"Jack, I can still assist. You're going to need—"

"We have it covered. Catheter is in place, and you'd just be standing around. You're good."

Suddenly, a wave of anguish flowed through your body. It was happening again. Jack had just added fuel to the ever growing fire of jealousy and self-loathing. The feeling sized your chest, and you stepped back from the bed, shaky hands ripping off the nitrile gloves.

You couldn't help the stressed wheeze that pushed from your lungs.

Don't panic. Don't panic. He didn't mean it. He was just stressed. He didn't know that you'd never done that before.

Numbly, you walked back to the nurses station and sat back down in front of the computer, but your hands didn't raise to the keyboard. Your mind had already taken over, spewing rotten things about yourself that you could fix.

Be like Samira. Be like Robby. Jack won't keep wanting you if you aren't like them.

Your tongue ran across your dry lips in an attempt to wet them, but even your mouth had gone parched.

"Is charting really that bad?" you heard Dennis ask you as she sat down at a computer to your left. "You look like someone just told you they flushed your fish down the drain."

In a jerky motion, you turned towards him and did your best to compose yourself. "Oh no. I, uh, I didn't do well on a procedure with Dr. Abbot, and he asked me to leave."

Dennis at least had the decency to look sorry for you. "I bet you didn't do too bad. What was the procedure?"

"A pericardiocentesis," you said shyly.

He nodded slowly. " Shit, that's like one of the first things Robby let us do." He turned towards his own chart. "I could probably do them in my sleep by now."

Because he wasn't looking at you, Dennis missed the way your shoulders dropped and tears welled in your lash line. Jack's comment had been bad, but he just completely shattered any confidence you had left for the day.

"Right," you muttered. "Of course it'd be that easy if Robby taught you."

And you'd be right. On the night shift, patients like that rarely if not ever needed such a complex procedure. You could only think to one time that a woman came through almost needing one before they were able to use a different method to get her stable enough to be transferred to the OR.

With keys clacking loudly, you quickly finished up the chart before turning the whole thing off. You didn't even try to find Jack before you left, choosing to slip out before he even noticed you'd left without saying goodbye.

Once you were home, you stormed past the fridge and went straight to yours and Jack's shared room. Your scrubs hit the floor, and you didn't even bother to put on pajamas. The bed dipped under your weight as you pulled the duvet up over your body in a sad attempt at being comforted by its weight.

Sleep came quickly, only being interrupted by the door opening, a signal that Jack had gotten home. Blearily, you listened to him walk around the room before his edge of the bed sunk after he sat. The familiar hiss and pop of his prosthesis preceded him turning to lie down. You kept still as he scooted closer before wrapping an arm around your middle and molding your back to his chest.

"Sorry if I woke you up," he muttered sleepily. "Tried to find you before you left, but I guess I missed you. Wanted to say good job for that trauma. You helped so much."

You clamped your eyes shut, squeezing a fresh round of tears that dripped down your cheeks to puddle on your pillowcase.

After Samira, you had done your best to convince yourself it had been a slip of his tongue. But now after Robby, you weren't too sure that Jack would keep you around for much longer before finding someone better. Because there was no way you could ever amount to someone like Robby.

It was impossible. I care, I care, I care, like ribbons in your hair, my stomach's all in knots, you got the one thing that I want. Ooh, I try, I try, I try, try to rationalize people are people, but it's like you're made of angel dust. You were trying but failing to pretend Jack's words and comparisons hadn't left a giant, bleeding gap in your heart. Before everything happened, you never ever wondered if Jack loved you. Except now, you waited with bated breath for him to just drop the bucket and break up with you. You walked on eggshells around him.

Don't panic. Be put together. Keep your heart to yourself. Be calm like Samira. Don't fuck up. Know how to do your job. Be confident like Robby.

Those thought became your mantra and lifeline. No one seemed to think twice about your recent personality change. They loved the way they could count on you, the way you had an answer ready for everything. To the day and night shift, you were the epitome of composure. But behind closed doors, you were falling apart and into a pit you didn't think you'd be able to climb out of.

Jack didn't help with that either. You guessed he didn't even know what he had done to you, going on with his life like he hadn't given yours so many potholes that you couldn't continue on without falling behind. Everything you did was carefully thought out, every patient you talked to met a version of you that didn't reflect what you felt inside or outside.

You avoided mirrors the most, their reflections showing you exactly what you weren't. You weren't Samira with her lovely thick hair and clear skin. And you weren't Robby who carried years of trauma like it was apart of his body.

You were you, and you loathed it entirely.

You hated the glances you caught between Jack and Samira across the department. You hated the way they looked like they knew what the other was thinking before they spoke. You hated how you felt like on onlooker to a relationship that wasn't even happening.

You also hated the way Robby changed from a mentor to an idol. He had soon morphed into someone you wanted to so desperately be to the point you lost yourself in ambition.

And the worst part? You held nothing against them personally.

They didn't know what Jack had said. They didn't know that you were dying on the inside every time they raised you up during shifts. Bits of you crumbled away while they continued to glow.

Every morning you woke up, you wondered if the day would provide the straw that broke the camel's back with the way you felt like a stretched out rubber band waiting to fly.

A soft, savory aroma wafted through your kitchen. You absentmindedly stirred the spatula through the sauce, eyes glancing back and forth from the pan to the recipe. The instructions were written in beautiful, slanted cursive with curled letters that danced together. You'd found the card mixed in with a bunch of recipes Jack kept in his drawer. With a quick read told you that the owner of this one was his late wife, and the heart next to the title had you guessing if this was a favorite for the two of them.

Without thinking, you plucked it from the drawer and started working. After a week of back to back cases that ended in more loss than wins, a homemade meal was exactly what you and Jack needed after a day off. He was currently out getting his truck washed, and you wanted to be finished by the time he came home.

Quickly, the separate parts of the recipe—the chicken and veggies basting in the oven, the sauce on the stove top, and the wine chilling in the fridge—all came together right as Jack walked through the door.

"Hi, baby!" you called out as you pulled the pan from the oven. "Dinner's almost ready!"

You picked up on Jack's slightly clompy gate as he got farther into the house.

"Smells good," he said, walking over to stand behind you. "What did you make?"

Suddenly, you got nervous. What if it didn't taste correct? What if Jack didn't want you to make something so special between him and his wife. What if you ruined everything.

You didn't meet his eyes and poured the sauce over the top of the chicken. "Uh, a recipe from the drawer. It looked good, and we already had the ingredients."

He grabbed the card and held it up to his face, and you held your breath. When he didn't seem to get angry or sad, you counted it at a win.

"There's a bottle of white in the fridge if you want to get it out," you offered.

Jack stayed quiet. You didn't dare look even as the sound of a cork popping echoed in the room. While his immediate lack of response didn't cause concern to rise, your stomach still churned. To mirror him, you also didn't speak while you set the table.

He sat down, and so did you, your chairs facing the other like you'd done so many times in the past. Your heart pounded against your sternum as he took the first bite.

Loudly, he smacked his lips, setting his fork down at he chewed. The noise felt like nails on a chalkboard in the silence.

After a minute, he finally spoke. "Did you change anything in this?"

Your racing heart plummeted to your feet. "No. I kept it just like the card had it."

His brows furrowed. "Really? It tastes different than how I remembered it last."

You dug your nails into the fabric of the table running. "Does it not taste good?"

Jack looked up from his plate with wide, hazel eyes. "No, no, it's just different."

"But not good," you scoffed.

"I'm just trying to say that maybe you missed something. I know Alice's handwriting isn't the easiest to read."

"I know how to read cursive, Jack," you spat lowly. "I followed every single instruction on the card. It's the exact same recipe."

"It's not that big of a deal, sweetheart," he tried. "Maybe if you had a bit more practice like her, it might have come out the same. You're a good cook, don't get me wrong, but—"

Your hands slammed on the table in frustration, causing Jack's eyebrows to pinch as his words died in his mouth. He went to keep talking but stopped when he noticed the frustrated tears fall from your eyes.

"I'm done," you breathed, eyes darting around the room.

"Done?" Jack echoed. "What are you done with?"

"Everything," you hissed. "I'm done with this—" You gestured to the food with a wave of your hand. "I'm done with-with you. I'm done with it all."

You pushed up from the table and walked away, leaving Jack to scramble out of his chair and follow you.

"Sweetheart, what's going on?" he loudly asked, but you ignored him.

By the time he made it into the bedroom, you had already ripped out a suitcase from the closet and were pushing clothes into it without making them neat.

"Hey," Jack said gently. "Look, I'm sorry for saying that. I didn't think it'd upset you this much, but you don't have to leave."

You paused in a mid-throw of your shirts and spun to face him. A disbelieving laugh bubbled wetly through your throat. "That's the problem," you muttered, "you don't think."

He crossed his arms, biceps resting against his chest. A need to defend himself bloomed in his stomach. "What's that supposed to fucking mean."

You threw your arms up with an exasperated scoff. "Oh, so now you're concerned for what I'm saying. Maybe you should be concerned more with your words." You sucked in a deep breath. "Just go on and say it."

Jack took a step forward. "Say what?"

"That you'd rather me be someone else!" you screamed. "That-that I'm not enough by myself for you anymore." Pants heaved in your chest. "I'm sick and tired of standing here stuck listening to you compare me and wish that I'd be like or act like someone else."

Your words stole the breath from Jack's lungs as confusion and dread washed over him. "What?"

You closed your eyes and dropped your shoulders. "I heard you; I keep hearing you."

In another step forward, Jack was within two feet of you. He swallowed thickly, but you beat him to more words.

"On the fourth," you began to explain through tears, "I saw Samira patch you up, and I heard the way you told her that I could learn how to be more level headed like her."

A chill crept up Jack's spine. "Sweetheart—"

"Don't," you ordered. "Don't do that where you try to make it all better. I heard you loud and clear, Jack. And that's fine. I knew I could be more calm during traumas, so that's exactly what I did, but apparently—" You chocked out a laugh. "That wasn't enough for you."

He shook his head, hazel eyes swimming with guilt already.

"And I really thought that if I could be anything like Samira, your words wouldn't hurt as much. But then you had to go and tell me that you wished Robby had been there instead of me to do a pericardiocentesis." Your breath shuddered in the next exhale. "Did you even know that was the first time I'd ever been asked to do one? And instead of teaching at a teaching hospital, you threw me to the side saying Robby—the fucking chief attending—could have done the job. No fucking duh, Jack."

You threw a hand in the direction of the kitchen. "And now this? I thought that maybe I could be like Samira or study enough to be like Robby, but h-how am I supposed to compare to the woman who had your love first." You turned back toward the bed and haphazardly packed suitcase. "That's unfair to me. So, like I said, I'm done."

A pleading sound ripped from Jack's throat at the sound of your suitcase zipper closing.

"No, sweetheart, please. Let me fix this; tell me how to fix this," he begged.

"That's just it, Jack. I don't think this can be fixed. I've spent weeks with your words in my head wondering how I can be the perfect person for you. And I don't know if I can keep going on pretending."

Jack's body shook under a small sob as everything came crashing down. He absolutely had no clue what he had done to you, but thinking back, he understood that his careless words wracked irreparable damage to you and your personality.

"I'm sorry," he managed, voice breaking in a whisper.

"I know you are,' you responded, "and somehow that makes it hurt worse. Because while you were trying to compliment everyone else, you made me feel inadequate in every aspect of my life." Your fingers wrapped around the suitcase handle and tugged it off the bed. "I can't stay with someone who keeps hoping I'll be a conglomeration of all the best parts of others; that's not me. And I'll be honest, I don't even really know who me is anymore."

He inhaled sharply, eyes tearing from your face to look down at the floor. "So this is it? You're leaving?"

Another round of tears spilled down your cheeks as you choked on a sob of your own. "I don't want to, but I need to."

"But I love you," he croaked, eyes coming back up to meet yours.

"You love the best parts of me, Jack," you said, already moving to walk past him. "And that's never going to be enough to make me stay."

Your shoulder lightly brushed by his as you walked out of the room and all the way out the front door, leaving Jack behind in a house he realized he didn't want empty. You poison every little thing that I do, Lacy, oh, Lacy, I just loathe you lately, and I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you, yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you Jack didn't truly realize what he'd done until almost six months after you left him crying in his bedroom.

Your absence in his life gave him a lot to think about, and the only conclusion he could come up with was that you were absolutely right. It didn't matter if he'd compared you to others unconsciously; he made you feel like that: worthless, in need of self change, inadequate; the list went on.

He'd seen the small changes too late.

The next shift he worked with you, Jack tracked every minuscule thing you did, and it felt like one big punch to the gut. He saw the way you constantly checked your hair, ponytail pulled tight enough to give you a headache, skin, and scrubs and the way you straightened your stethoscope so it rested perfectly across your collarbones.

His stomach dropped when he watched you pause before a trauma and gulp down air before heading inside like someone who needed to take control before it could get out of hand. Before him, you weren't like that. Yes, you could be nervous to mess up, but you didn't act like you had to be the smartest person in the room.

He did that to you. He made you feel the need to change. And it killed him. It killed him once he learned you transferred over to a specialty in orthopedics, and his mind made him think you did it just to get away from him.

He was slightly correct, but not entirely.

You needed a fresh start, somewhere where you knew no on had any high expectation of you. And somehow, orthopedics gave you just that. And you thrived in the environment, only coming down to the Pitt when they needed a transfer or second opinion. Sure, you had to accompany Park the Shark more than you'd liked to, but through your time there, the old you was coming back, the one who worked through her panic instead of shutting it down, the one who only got frazzled when she cared about patients and their needs.

It was never weakness you showed, and you had to learn that all over again.

Someone helped you see that along the way as well.

"What do got here?" Park asked while snapping on a pair of gloves, eyes predatory as he walked into Trauma Room 1.

Jack looked up with pinched brows when he realized that you didn't walk in behind the larger man. "Where's Dr. [Name]?"

Park didn't even acknowledge his question. "For fucks sake man, you didn't even pack this right."

"You should know how to put a detached leg together even if I missed the pressure of the wrapping by an inch," Jack shot back.

"Abbot, you should know that I can't fucking put your patient back together after you decided to play Barbies. It's not as easy as popping a joint back in place."

"Dr. [Name] could do it."

Except for the monitors, everyone went quiet. Jack tore his eyes away from Park and looked back down at his blood soaked gloves. Reality crashed down on him as he realized he just did to Park what he'd done to you. Even if he knew he probably didn't hurt Park's feelings at all, it sucked to know that he was still so quit to throw out words like that.

Park's shoulders rose in a shrug. "She could, but she isn't here right now. She switched shifts and won't be in until 7." He smirked. "Think she said she had plans with someone."

An ugly roar of jealousy clawed at Jack's insides, nails sinking deep in his gut.

You were with someone?

He went through the motions of his shift, mind still on the fact that you weren't on call because someone had taken your time and attention away from the hospital. His knuckles turned white around the tablet he held while going through handoffs. He didn't know if his body was still trained to look for you, forever waiting for your soft lips against his, but Jack couldn't help but keep his head on a swivel and ears open to catch the sound of your voice.

Like a laugh in his face from the universe, your laugh fluttered through the ER, and his head whipped hard enough that his neck hurt in order to find you. When he finally saw you walking in, his heart dropped to his feet, because there you were, smiling brighter than he'd seen in a long while, hand enclasped with a man's.

Jack swallowed thickly. He instantly hated the way his blood boiled at the sight. He looked back down at the tablet after your voice seemed to draw closer to where he was standing.

"Andy," you sighed wistfully, "you didn't have to walk me all the way in here. I know you're weary of the germs."

"I know," the man—Andy (you gave him a fucking nickname?)—muttered back, wide, hazel eyes looking down at you like you hung the moon. "But I wanted to."

You pouted playfully. "You're so sweet. Am I going to see you tomorrow morning, or are you working again?"

He hummed. "My morning's yours if you want it."

"You know I always do."

Jack watched the corner of the man's mouth twitch into an almost-there smile, and he had to look away when his head started leaning in toward yours.

The small smack of your lips on his made bile gurgle in Jack's stomach.

"Okay, you gotta go save lives."

You giggled again. "I just put people back together, and technically, Park's the one doing all the procedures. You know my hands start shaking."

From the corner of his eye, Jack watched him lift your hands to his lips and kiss the tops of your knuckles.

"Just breathe and know that you alone can do this. You were the one to get into the program, so they want you, shaky hands and all."

Jack's heart clenched to the point of a physical reaction to the pain. He should have been the one saying that to you, standing in your corner and building you up one compliment at a time.

But now, he had to stand on the sideline and watch a man (someone who scarily looked a bit like him) give you all the praise and love you deserved. And while Jack could do everything in his power to let people know how good of a doctor you were, it wouldn't ever be the same, forever stuck loathing the moment he lost you without knowing.

🏷️ permanent tags: @dumb-fawkin-bitch @nofinnn2 @books-thingys-andstuff @nyxmoretti @glitterquadricorn @itzpixiebabe @xoxoloverb @macbaetwo @cerberus101 @thorfemmes @goddess-of-spring @staygoldsquatchling02 @obi-wansgirl @phantom-101 @fly-me-away @xblackcatx @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @aoi-warrior @keepingitundercover @sofianotvergara @shawnhatosysrightbicep @straykids1011 @vicky066 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @sepidehmoafiglazer @multiversalfandomwriter222 @bellamys-girl1 @violet1661 @damoclesdarling @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @fancyvoidtragedy @hoffmanfan13 @lostfallenangelsblog @teenwolfbitches28 @isuckcigbuds @kaorisakamotofan @alexaplayldr @mszeitxt @darknessofhell666-blog-blog @yapeez @riseabovethorns-blog @thedivinegirlyp0p @valentine1047 @sl33ping-sir3n @toxicwasteee @chanelwidag @cloudrisens @ravenwtfbro @ra-ven-124 @rainaris-ac @glamorizethechaos @queen-of-disasterrrrr @toxicwasteee

[afandommultiverse]

a/n - a little short but it was on my mind <3

update!! pt. 2 out now!

E | cw - slight manipulation, jacks got a thing for pregnancy but like nothing nsfw, eluded intimidation/threats

2:06 AM

I’m thinking of Jack Abbot who loves his new pregnant neighbor.

He doesn't think he’s seen a more beautiful pregnant woman than you, even with swollen feet that were always in slippers or sandals, or how your face was fuller than the older pictures he’d seen of you. He’d thought you looked amazing as you were, an amazing creator of life, who just shone with natural and effortless beauty, as life itself.

He easily found himself helping you with everything and anything before going to work every day. Moving your new furniture around, putting together the nursery, and helping you paint- basically any manual labor your deadbeat boyfriend was supposed to be doing.

That was a sore subject to him; he would get irrationally angry and possessive when he did come around, asking for handouts and overall douchebaggery he did not appreciate or warrant for this new age of boys. You seemed to never notice Jack's sudden abrasiveness towards your boyfriend, but then again, everyone was so it wasn’t much of a difference as with everyone else.

You were struggling with the decision of keeping your baby daddy in your life and soon to be born childs life. Embarrassed to be walking around with no father, but not ready to let him be in your child’s life if he kept up the way he was. Jack was adamant about not giving you his opinion, kept saying ‘it’s obvious, sweetheart, but I can’t be the one to tell you.’ Or ‘you wouldn’t care for what I think, it’s a little outdated’

The whole time, he just wants to put on a shotgun wedding and make you his before that baby comes so his last name is on both of you— but that’s not exactly feasible with that lowlife hanging around, so it’s about time he’d stop.

After texting no response from your ex in weeks, you decided to carry on your own, rushing to tell Jack next door as soon as you had the epiphany. He couldn’t be more thrilled; of course he was. Things were moving right on schedule; you were coming up on your third trimester, and he had a wife to move in.

[heavenlybarnesss]

But can you IMAGINE Jack doing the ‘dad walk’ when leaving the hospital with your newborn? He insists on taking the carrier, leading the way downstairs while the labor and delivery nurse follows with your wheelchair. He’s walking proudly through the halls in a well fitting tee - maybe with his military branch emblem - a pair of joggers, tennies, and a backwards hat. He’s using his other arm to carry both your overnight bags. You get outside and he goes to pull the car around, beaming that he got the carrier in on the first try.

“I’ve got it from here, thank you guys for everything,” Jack says to the nurse. He helps you into the car, going as far as leaning over to buckle you in. Before he closes the door he gives you a soft kiss on the crown of your head. “You okay baby? Comfortable?” You smile and nod your head. He pats your thigh gently and closes the passenger door. The whole ride home he can’t stop smiling, holding your hand in your lap and squeezing it with excitement. “So proud of you, honey. So in awe of you,” he whispers sweetly. Damn that six week rule.

[mysoulbelongstobuckybarnes]

—sunshine of the dark.

jack abbot x sunshine!reader

the sunshine of the night shift, all cookies and lavender, loves to make the grumpy, sassy, silver fox attending smile through attempts at flirting and baked goods. but what happens when he asks a certain replacement attending for drinks and the sunshine dims?

—angst. hurt/comfort. fluff ending. reader can be described as plus size but no specified race. age gap (reader is in her late 20s, early 30s, our grumpy man in his late 40s, early 50s). medical inaccuracy.

part two

thank you to @cafekitsune for the lovely divider!

"Are those croissants?"

"Better yet, they are vanilla cream stuffed croissants."

The unsubtle smell of your new croissants wafted through the air, alerting almost everyone of your presence that came with new baked goods like a package deal. All the pittlings, as you so dearly called them, looked up as Dana playfully scoffed at the obscenely mouthwatering croissants which you brought in.

"Trin, wait—"

"Nope!"

"No, no, no! You stole all of the cookies last week!" Matteo came running, hands already up to defend the desserts as Trinity opened up the lid of your container before you could even reach the nurses' station.

"What about me—I'm literally her favourite—"

Dennis almost tripped trying to catch up as you gave custody of your beloved croissants to one of the hands trying to poach them away. You walked up to the nurses station handing a secret stash to dana and lena, your mama nurses, before grinning at the scene in front of you.

"You're spoiling them." Dana scolded, without any bite. She also knew how much they deserved it, and how you were too sweet to actually stop treating the youngest of the pitt.

You gave her a side hug. "They deserve something after busting their asses here, especially under Robby. God knows what's up his ass these days. How many times did he yell at Samira today?"

Dana and Lena scoffed, "Almost told her she didn't belong here again."

You rolled your eyes. This wasn't new at all. You made a mental note to check up on the girl yourself.

You looked at them in front of you. Matteo, Trinity and Dennis were already battling against each other and somehow Langdon had already gotten away with two pieces—one for Mel, obviously—and then Shen's invading hands also won the match.

Your heart warmed at all of them.

"You done distracting my staff, nurse?"

A buzz of electricity shot through your spine at the deep, gravelly voice. You turned around on your heels, a sly grin adorning your face, cheeks bumped up to meet his almost smirk and beautiful hazel eyes.

Dr. Jack Abbot. Your grumpy, sassy, hot attending. Your personal mission.

"So you agree that I'm distracting?"

Javadi made a choked noise that sounded almost like chortle while covering her mouth.

He huffed at you, crossing his arms on his chest. You had to keep your eyes from drifting to the muscles on his big arms taut against his broad chest.

"Bribing my students with baked goods? That's distracting."

"You know, its crazy—all I keep hearing is that you find me a.k.a my cooking is distracting, doc."

"Yeah? Well that's medically compromising—you should get your ears checked."

You rolled your eyes, your grin unwavering by his dry quips. "Well, what's medically compromising is your appetite, Abbot. Say, when was the last time you tried any of my distracting goods?"

He raised his eyebrows, "Why? You want me distracted too, nurse?" His voice dropped a decibel, as if the whisper was a secret meant to only rile you up. Your cheeks immediately turned pink, dusting the tips of your ears as well.

Your grin faltered. His almost came into view.

"Very subtle—" Shen coughed up, very unsubtly as your intimate moment with the attending came crashing. Jack took a quick look at your face; pink cheeks and ears and the confidence of the sunshine he managed to falter. A prideful feeling almost bloomed in his chest—only he could affect you like this. Fluster you like this. A small smile was about to make to his face, but was he about to let you win?

"Okay, back to work everyone! Santos, you still have to finish those charts!"

He moved away from your space, the warmth lingering in your heart. But you saw it—he almost gave in.

"Well, sunshine—you almost made it. take the win, will ya?" Dana's voice rang out in the back. but you shook your head, your lower lip getting caught between your teeth, leaning back onto the counter, watching your grumpy attending order around. "Never giving up on this, Dana. Not until he actually smiles, or even laughs."

"God, when will you both stop?"

—

It all started during a particularly, mercifully uneventful night at the pitt.

You, including almost everyone at the pitt, had their eyes glued on the screen with dollars on stake. Will the stupid teenagers who stole their professor's car, with a brake fail, be caught by the unwitting police? Or will they crash? In who's vicinity? Presby or will they have to save lives in the pitt, yet again?

You had put 40$ on presby and he had snorted. "You're optimistic."

"You should try it sometimes—might just make your grumpy face prettier, old man."

Whittaker's eyes widened, Trinity side eyed Perlah and Princess who were looking like they just found gold, Jesse and Donnie stopped incessantly organising the crash cart in case the car did crash in the pitt's vicinity and Dana and Robby smirked at each other.

Amusement etched onto the attending's face and it was a thrill you never stopped chasing. "C'mon, even the grumpy dwarf in snow white smiled, doc—what's stopping you?"

He just shook his head at you, huffing at the comment and walked off. You watched him walk away with his back towards you and accepted the challenge. "One day or the other, I'm gonna make you smile, Abbot—maybe even laugh—you'll see!"

He raised his eyebrows at you and leaned back onto a wall with his arms crossed on his chest, making something thunder inside your body. "We'll see about that, nurse. But first, you might want to look at the screen."

The police had caught them.

—

After that day, you brought in your best food and your best lines. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being just about seeing him smile. I mean, obviously you wanted to see him smile, almost concerned it would make your heart stop, but Jack Abbot started to mean something more.

Seeing him everyday, looking into his soulful eyes, his stupid soft voice while talking to patients and the almost smile he gives you during your shenanigans bloomed a deep, warm, ridiculously fuzzy feeling which had set itself somewhere behind your sternum.

Even if it got a huff out of him, a scoff, a smirk that burned its way through the small space in between you both to between your legs or just raised eyebrows.

So, you never stopped flirting. Never stopped baking. Never stopped chasing his smile. It became your dream. Because you knew it would be breathtaking to see it, feel it and know that you were the cause of it.

So, you were here, with a hop in your step, making your way towards the man.

"And I thought these dull hospital lights could never make anyone look good, but here you are, proving me wrong, Mr. Grouch."

He didn't even look up from the chart he was assessing. "Don't you have patients to check up on?"

"Don't you have some smiling to do?"

He turned to look at you and the warm feeling started to spread through your body, unwarranted. He was about to quip back, his mouth opening slightly when—

"19 year old, GSW to the chest, head trauma, pulse is thready—"

Jack's shoulders and jaw set itself tight, as if bracing for whatever was about to come next. he kept the chart back with a thud, going around you, hand brushing on your lower back. "You're with me. Smiling later." He said, lowly, breath fanning your ear.

"Promise?" Your voice had gone heavy.

You gulped as you both walked towards the gurney, his hand still on your lower back, a small comfort before heading into the storm. He glanced back at you, before getting to the boy after you gave him a nod of readiness.

"Trauma 2 is open!" You heard princess yell.

You took a deep breath before going in, hoping this one will turn around. Everyone is here. Jack is here.

It was going to be okay.

—

Your hands trembled.

Your breath was stoic. It didn't dare to move the air between you or the resident still doing cpr.

Jack glanced at his watch. "Stop."

His voice had lost its sharpness but it still held authority. It honeyed through the trauma room, reaching you. But it didn't warm you up like it usually did. His concerned face was focused at the year 2 resident who was starting to hyperventilate. She still kept going.

He glanced at you. You understood what he needed. You moved forward, your body numb. "Sweetheart, you need to let go. Its okay, its going to be alright—"

"No!" She shrieked. You heard Jack calling her name. "He was younger than me—" She whispered.

Jack stepped forward and gripped her shoulders. "Its okay, doctor. Let go. Look at me—I need you to breathe."

Her hands went slack. The machine beeped mercilessly. "Time of death, 5.57 am."

You circled your arms around her as she fell, weeping into your chest.

"shh, I know. C'mon let's get you out." You whispered, your voice sweet as sugar, your soul numbing as the machine beeped.

Jack looked at you but you avoided his gaze. Your hands were trembling, your vision was blurring and your heart was trying to punch its way through your body. Your brain couldn't take it. But you still took care of the people around you. You squeezed donnie's hand on the way out because you knew his kid was also a teenager. You promised princess a treat because you knew she was not going to eat after this. You took care of the resident in your arms because you knew she wont be able to sleep after this.

His gaze burned on your back as it followed your figure through the overbearing walls of the pitt.

After, you got the resident settled, you were about go off to take a breather when Ellis called your name. "Hey! The kid in trauma 2, do you mind calling his parents and informing them?" Your heart ached and flashbacks of another trauma, another death, another set of parents losing their whole world burned in your mind. But you nodded.

"Hello? am I speaking to Mrs Shah?" You introduced yourself, "I'm speaking from Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center—"

Immediately the questions started, the panic, the desperation, the devastation. You sighed, your exhaustion and anguish slipping out. You tried to explain the urgency, that they needed to come immediately. Your hands shook as you hung up and closed your eyes.

You tried to busy yourself, checking up on other patients, but your mind still wandered away to the boy. The sorrow of another soul departing, another young life you couldn't save, another injustice was too heavy. The grief set in your bones.

It was a reminder of how this job got harder. These walls sometimes seemed too hollow, too empty, with the losses all of the doctors had faced. This department wrung people out with its cruelty. You were expected to move on with no time to process everything.

That's where Jack came.

Being with him, bantering, flirting, joking—it gave you joy—something that the E.D could never steal. He made working and just being there easier, as if the air got much more breathable around him. You were almost addicted to the giddiness you felt around him. his salt and pepper curls, his teasing voice with you, his dry sarcasm, the way his black tee stretched around the muscles on his back and biceps—

"Excuse me? We were called in urgently? We are looking for our son? Neil Shah?"

The grief crashed down on you. Your eyes turned glassy again and tried to look for any other nurse or even Jack so that you wouldn't be in this position. Not again. Not where you have to inform the parents that their beloved child has passed away. Not where you have to hear the wails of the mother and denial of the father.

You sighed in defeat and led them to an empty room. Slowly, you explained what had happened. How their son had passed away. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. and Mrs Shah. Truly."

They had started crying, asking you questions, Demanding answers to truths you didn't know. Until one question. "How did he get shot?"

"He—" Your voice broke, but that's when you felt a warm, steady hand on your shoulder. Your beacon of comfort. You immediately recognized it. "I'm Doctor Abbot—I performed the surgery on your son. Nurse, could you please assist Dr. Kwan with a consult in south eight?"

Your heart filled with gratitude. He gave you an out. And you took it. You nodded but not before mouthing a thank you to the man in front of you. He squeezed your shoulder before holding the door open for you and your heart squeezed. Why did he have to be so kind?

You took a quick glance towards him before getting out. You felt you could breathe.

That did not long last.

"Can you believe he did that? I mean, if I was in his place, I would never put my life on the line—for a girl i just met? That was so stupid—"

You took a sharp inhale and jerked your head to the voice. "How dare you? Just because you don't even have an ounce of the bravery, the courage and the empathy that he had, doesn't mean you get to call it stupid, you—"

Before you could go up to him and slap him, strong hands grabbed you, wrapping around your torso, with no harshness but just comfort coursing through.

"Ogilvie, if you don't have even 1% basic empathy or haven't heard the phrase 'dont talk ill of the dead' I suggest you drop out of medical school and go back to 3rd grade."

You shoulders visibly relax at the voice and at his fingers which softly caressed your chubby love handles—this man was not helping you keep cool. Heat travelled up your neck when you felt his chest rumble with some instructions he gave to the resident in front of him.

Jack called your name and his hands travelled to your shoulders. "Come on, let's go—"

"What? what about the consult—"

"That was a lie—"

"You dog—"

"Come on, you nuisance. Let's get you a breather."

—

"The roof?"

"You'll see."

The door busted open and strong gust of wind hit you in the face. And there it was.

You gasped and your hands went to Jack's forearm. "Oh my god."

"Oh my god."

"Come on, you wanna see the sunrise?"

"Well, at least ask me for a cup of coffee first, old man. You losing your touch already?" He gave you a deadpan look. "But of course, if you insist."

He took you to the railing. "I've heard you go even beyond the railing..."

Jack gave you a side eye. "Oh come on, you really believe anything really stays in the box at this hole?" He still did not entertain you. "Please, Jack?" You gazed up at him, with your best puppy eyes.

"Alright. But only this time."

He ducked and got across first, holding out his hand for you, fingers gently taking your palm and helping you cross the railing. "Thank you," You softly murmured, the touch growing the warmth in your chest. the sunrise had only taken its footing—the soft blue of the sky was slowly lighting up. "So," You took a deep breath, "why did you bring me to your sacred space?"

"Sacred space? Really?" Jack scoffed.

"Everybody knows its where you and Robby come to make heart eyes at each other—" He grunted and you let out a soft laugh. "Come on, tell me." You whined.

"I saw you." He spoke. "After–after you realized he was gone, after we declared the time of death. your hands were trembling," Your breath hitched. "Your breaths were small, your voice was—" You looked away. His gaze bore deep into your eyes, trying to probe out the vulnerability gently, and his voice was too tender, too warm, almost wrapping you up in their saccharine like blanket. "The point is, you still took care of everyone. Donnie, Princess, the resident—"

"Someone has to. I just choose to. Nobody forces me to, Jack." Your voice gets small.

"And when will you let yourself take care? When will you take a breath?" Your breath hitched. "You're the sunshine of the dark side, sweetheart. We don't want you fading out while you take care of others." He syruped.

You hoped it would stay dark so that he couldn't see the red on your cheeks, the heat crawling up your neck and how you couldn't trust your own voice anymore. But you braved on.

"um, I dont know if you know this, doc, but I shifted to nights for a reason other than one grumpy teddy bear," You let out a giggle when jack let out an annoyed huff, "there was a girl, 19, just like today's kid. She was abducted and tried escaping, but the abductor shot her. She was brought in, I was a part of the surgery and despite everything, despite Robby busting his ass—she–" Your voice broke and you gripped the railing. "She almost escaped it, but...her parents were angry more than heartbroken. Her mother threw things at the father, he yelled back and I tried to calm them down, but h-he pulled me in, threw me in the wall and said I was too incompetent, I couldn’t save his daughter's life."

You inhaled sharply. "He killed himself 2 months later."

"Look at me."

"Jack—"

He pleaded your name. "That was not your fault. It will never get easy, I know that...too well. But you learn to live around it, but I need you to understand that it was not your fault."

You nodded. "How do you live with it?"

"Before returning to Pittsburgh, before my...leg, in Afghanistan—we used to get this street food. It used to be sold at nights and we used to switch routes and trade fucking mattresses and anything just to have a chance to get it. Its called kolcha. It used to be heaven in the hell we were put in.

I used to see my brothers get blown up, losing their lives, civilians losing a sense of humanity after the way everyone treated them. But there are soft joys that help the grief. that helped me live. Stopped me from..." He trailed off, a pensive look forming on his face.

Your hand clasped around his on the railing. He gazed up at you, your eyes already on him, so honeyed, filled with care and admiration, with so much compassion, he didn't know what to do with it.

You both just gaped at each other. Your hearts filled to the brim. Getting lost in time.

Suddenly, a ray of sunlight reflected in Jack's hazel eyes and you broke your contact, a gasp forming on your lips as you tore your eyes away to marvel at the jawdropping sunrise.

The sun was officially peeking up. Its rays bounced off skyscrapers made of glass, lighting up the small alleys of the street. The orange and yellow shades painted the horizon and you almost died right there. "Its so beautiful..."

The sunlight was colouring your skin, your giddiness coming out with the sun.

"Will you take care of yourself, sunny?"

You let out a sweet giggle. "Sunny?"

"The sun clearly loves you." He murmured softly before tucking in a strand of hair fallen haphazardly on your eyes, blocking him from the view.

"Hmm, you're going soft on me, old man. Or are you just manipulating me so that I won't tell anyone that your grumpy attitude is a hoax and you're just a big ol' teddy bear?"

He snorted and let out a soft smile.

Your heart jumped.

"Oh my god!" you gasped and pointed. "Oh my god! You smiled!"

"Come on, sunny. Let's get you inside before you tragically die due to slipping while celebrating something that never happened—"

"Excuse me—" You scoffed but let him lead you onto the safer side of the railing, his hands on your shoulders, sliding down to your hands to steady you as you come over.

"Try convincing Robby that you did it—"

"Oh fuck off, you are just a big, fuzzy, loving teddy bear inside—"

His smile burned through you, in your heart.

And as you predicted, you could never forget it.

—

The next day, there was a new skip to your walk as you entered the pitt. You had spent your day trying to calm down your heart every time you reminisced what happened on the roof. Your skin would jump with goosebumps and your cheeks would immediately redden. So you distracted yourself in the best way.

You walked in with a box in your hand. The aroma of the newly tried recipe made everyone turn their heads. But this time you refrained from giving in to your beloved pittlings' puppy eyes.

Lena and Dana raised their eyebrows. "What's got our sunshine happier than before?"

"Nothing." You squealed softly.

"Mhm." Lena hummed. But mama nurse knew you too well. She knew all of you too well. "You know, you spent an awful lotta time on the roof yesterday. And what's that in the box you're tryin' so hard to keep away?"

"Its for Jack." You murmured. "He mentioned this food he had when he was in Afghanistan—"

"Didn't Dr. Abbot take you up on the roof yesterday?" Joy chimed in.

"What!?" Trinity yelped.

"Excuse me?" Dana took her glasses off and left them on the counter with a thud.

"Are you serious?" Matteo asked you, with her eyes wide open as Princess squealed to Perlah. "i knew it! may utang ka sa akin ng 50 bucks!"

Donnie gave you a pat on the back, like he was proud of you. "W–wait—guys—"

"What's going on here?"

You closed your eyes and sighed in defeat. The voice, the man, the mchottie who had you in trouble. Ellis leaned up on the counter with a dangerously smug look on her face. "Well, we were just talking about sunshine here and yo—"

Your eyes widened and embarrassment crawled up your veins in your neck, swirling anxiety in your brain with all the ways this could go wrong. "Okay! Everybody go back to work, now! Trinity, go home. Ellis, your labs for the 33 year old lady in north five are here and Matteo—"

She peered at Matteo with her glasses slid down till her nose, staring at his phone dreamily, who straightened up, as if he was caught with a scandal. "—do us all a favour, keep the yearning for Dr. Javadi aside and get. back. to. work!"

Everyone scrambled off. You gaped at her with a grateful look in your eyes. "You are amazing."

You turned around to look at the man you've been—shamefully or shamelessly you didn't know—thinking about the whole night and your jaw almost dropped. The sight was marvelous.

Jack abbot in gear.

Camouflage pants and a tight black tee.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." He dryly quipped at you.

Before you could reply, a gurney came bursting through the bay. "55 year old man, cardiac arrest—"

You felt his whole body reset and bracing like it always did. "Sunny, you're with me—"

"Sunny?" Shen asked, a knowing, smug look adorned his face as his eyes jumped from him to you. Your whole body flushed. He was going to be your ruin. Jack ignored Shen's absolutely valid inquiry with the excuse of the patient in front of him. But you're frozen.

He still remembered your conversation.

Did he think about it again and again and again like you did?

Your heart did not stop pumping blood but your brain stopped producing logic it seems.

"Sunny? You still with me?" Hus rough yet gentle voice coaxed you out of your thoughts and reminded you of the situation at hand. You cleared your throat and just nodded wordlessly, hoping no one would notice the red on you face.

How will you survive this man?

After sending him off to surgery, Crus looked between the both of you, as if he could sense the electricity between you, the tension, the undying sense of something happened here and just these two are in denial. "That was smooth."

Jack raised one eyebrow at him, amusement etched onto his face. "What was?"

Crus cleared his throat. You stilled. You knew what was coming. Crus did not stop. "You two make a good team."

You shot him a glare that seemed somewhere between 'i will kill you' and 'please don't make my life hell'. He saw it, noted it, considered it.

And threw it in the trash apparently. "Just saying. Everyone saw it inside. Its like you both were in sync. Unstoppable. Inevitable—"

Don't say it.

"—made for each other."

Shen made a choked sound and Ellis pursed her lips, trying to contain her giggle. Beside you, Jack stilled.

"Sunny makes it easier. Made for the night shift." He grunted out.

"Don't make it sound dramatic." He signed on some discharge papers and handed them to Lena. His hand brushed against yours. "Bye, sunny." he murmured softly against your cheek and left you. All by yourself. To process what just happened.

"So, sunny?"

"Shut up, guys."

You turned around and walked towards the supply closet, nothing but an excuse to ditch the conversation that you are about to face.

They followed you like little ducklings.

"What happened to you guys on the roof?" Crus asked.

"Nothing happened—and how do you know?"

Ellis scoffed as if the notion of anything staying a secret in this hospital was absurdly ridiculous. "Come on! tell us—"

"Nothing happened guys and shush!" You glared at them. They peered on you with curiosity as your body shook with embarrassment? Humiliation? Adrenaline? The mere thought of Jack abbot and you on the roof?

Shen slurped on his stupid watered down coffee. "You should go for it."

"I will stab you—"

"No, he's right! At least then your sexual tension in between emergency traumas will not traumatise us."

"Excuse me?"

"Please—even the unconscious patient can sense it!"

You huffed and crossed your arms as if it could save you from this conversation and put on a mask of denial. "That's not even remotely true. besides—I don't like him!"

The three of them stared at you. "Yes, and Shen doesn't live on caffeine." Ellis deadpanned. "You cant deny something we see literally everyday. You banter, flirt, tease and even cook for him! Didn't you make something specially for him today?"

Crus gasped dramatically. "Whaaaat?"

You rolled your eyes. "Its not that big of a deal."

"Yes, it is." The three of them chimed in unison. Your eyes fell on their faces, their relentless questions and sighed in defeat. You scrunched your face, closing your eyes for just a second and then squinting at them. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yes—"

"No—"

You pursed your lips and raised your eyebrows at them. "Seriously?"

They gave you wordless looks almost meant to serve with pity, empathy, hope. You don't know. "Listen, you just made this afghan food for him which I know you've never even heard of before. You try to make him smile everyday and there is this embarrassingly obvious sexual tension in between you. Don't think that the ED is half blind to miss the looks you give him."

You sharply inhaled.

"Hey, there's no harm in going for it—he will say yes. If he doesn't, that's his loss. some other person will get your perfectly baked goods." Ellis assured you.

That's when your brain imagined it—wildly. Not in the unsaid, shy and restrained ways it has been doing for the past months. The vivid image of you and the attending you made smile, together, in each other's arms, happy. Holding hands, requited secret glances, soft kisses, stolen touches, his eyes with a gentleness and passion just saved for you and a love that's not a secret—its known, its seen and understood—but its just for both of you.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Your cheeks blushed furiously.

The three of them smirked, knowingly.

"I—" You gulped and stammered on your words. "I need to be somewhere." Your hands shook and your brain didn't comprehend what you needed, nor did your body and it all was about to go crashing when—

"What are you all doing there? Don't you have jobs?"

Jack.

You didn't whether to sigh in relief or wring your hair out in frustration. This man was going to end you. "You know, sunny also has patients to attend to, rather than hearing you guys bicker or gossip about whatever it is."

You felt heat and humiliation hiking up your neck as you notice the smug looks they give each other before wandering off. "Yes boss."

But not before Ellis winked at you, Crus gave you a smug salute, and Shen slurped away loudly, obnoxiously, knowingly, looking back and forth between you and Jack.

Speaking of the man, he just leaned against a counter, gazing at you, with an unpredictable and unreadable look on his face. "Well, since you're done organising that supply closet for the 4th time, some patients are getting starved of your sunshine. Unless, of course, the supply room is in dire need of your attention, sunny."

Sudden confidence flared in your chest. "Well, cap'n grumps, you could just say you are in dire need of attention. No need to shame my perfect supply room."

Your mouth spoke before your brain you could stop it. His mouth twitched, just slightly, his amusement not hiding under a curtain and a glimmer in his pretty eyes which made you weak in the knees. "Get back to work, sunny." He murmured, head shaking and his shoulders lighter than before.

You almost giggled. "Of course, boss."

You walked away. every sense in your body was tingling, goosebumps on your skin and a fire somewhere in the pit of your stomach and a familiar fuzzy feeling growing stronger beneath your chest.

You didn't know if you were going to survive this man. You didn't know if you wanted to.

—

The next hours of the shift were determined to drain the soul out of you.

There were 4 traumas at the same time and a statewide insufficiency of nurses. So that meant you had to jump back and forth. Chairs was filled and actually overflowing while you had a scarcity of beds so all the nurses were charged with scheduling, organising and moving beds according to the level of emergency and pain patients were facing. Plus, you had multiple patients and a family who had declared that dr. google was more knowledgeable than a nurse.

Amazing.

And you hadn't gotten a chance to even eat.

When you finally got a chance to eat in the breakroom, that's when you saw it. The kolcha. Untouched. Because you wanted him to have the first bite. First taste. Just to see that Heartwarming smile again.

You bit your lip and took a peek outside. Everything had slowed down. Just for bit, you were sure, before another trauma, another emergency, another goddamn patient too obnoxious and blind to only believe what google says pulls you in.

This was the time, you decided.

So, you picked up the box, an extra hop to your walk, as you looked for him.

Jack abbot.

Ellis' words rang in your ears and your heartbeat sped up. Should I do it?

Take the chance, the risk?

"Hey, Lena, do you know where Jack is?" You asked softly, almost bashfully, as she narrowed her eyes at you but then flashed you a knowing look before pointing at a room.

The buzz in your heart and brain intensified as you walked towards him. You were so giddy, it hurt. Your soft smile had turn into a beam. The anticipation had turned to you nervous and exhilarated. You wanted to see his smile, the one he'll give after you give him a kolcha. Will it be a soft and dedicated one, reserved just for you? Will it be a joyous and unwithdrawn one, not shying away from showing his beautiful wrinkles?

Everything made your heart soar.

Your feet slowed down as you got there and you heard voices. His and... Dr. Al-hashimi. She was laughing before Jack spoke.

"So, you want get that beer we talked about?"

You heard Jack chuckle. A vibration that rumbled through his lungs in his chest to the ground that you apparently walked on. You felt as if it had just been pulled underneath you. It was lighthearted, casual—directed at someone else.

The ringing of elation in your ears stopped. Replaced with a haunting stillness.

"Yeah, of course. I would love to."

Your breath stopped in your lungs.

It was casual without any audible or visible awkwardness. You glanced inside only to see Jack smiling, a sly and playful grin, lighting up his whole face. Directed towards her. Not you.

Never you.

You wondered if she made it easy for him. Like you probably never did. His whole body was turned towards her, a casual openness to him that was never reciprocated with you. Your chest tightened. Throat strained. Something in your temples felt like it was being pulled.

Jack asking Dr. Al Hashimi out for beers. Your breathing felt shallow. Why wouldn't he? She was brilliant, kind almost dazzling with every step she took. She carried herself with maturity that only comes with facing warzones and fighting injustice. She never had to take constant efforts to make someone smile. He did it instantly for her.

Your hold on the box full of kolchas loosened.

Your legs moved before your brain processed everything. Your eyes looked into the distance, your thoughts melding, twisting your heart, a suffocating hurt settling deep in your bones.

You just kept walking.

"Hey, hon—you okay?" You heard someone say, but your mouth didn't move, your voice had gone numb. So, you just gave tight smile and gave a wordless nod and moved ahead.

Get back to work. You have patients.

Your body moved, on instinct, but without any soul in it.

He didn't owe you anything, you realized. He never reciprocated your efforts, nor did he respond. He just grunted, shook his head, raised his eyebrows, scoffed. It was meaningless. Fruitless. It was just amusement to him. You felt your heart hitting the pit of your stomach. He probably never even considered it. You were his nurse. He was your attending. You tried too hard it was almost entertaining. The sunshine of the night shift. Overbearing. aAways shining. Never needed anything back.

You were nothing like her.

She was everything he could want.

You never even understood where you left the box of kolchas meant for him. It was discarded somewhere like it never included unconditional efforts, hope and love. Like you didn't just stay up the hours you were supposed to put in for sleep to make something you had never made from scratch, just for him. It was not like he ever tried anything you made.

You just walked to a patient, and gave them a smile.

But it felt foreign on your face.

You asked them what was wrong, checked their pulse, gave necessary meds and equipment to the resident in front of you. It felt mechanical. Your eyes were vacant. Too preoccupied with trying to see the things your heart missed. the hope that you harboured over time, the anticipation and giddiness on seeing him, the fuzzy feeling inside your sternum.

Now replaced with a sudden anxiety. A hollowness.

"There she is." You almost jumped, startled by the intrusion of the voice you were now dreading to listen to. "I was looking for you."

Flashes of his soft smile, the wonderful sound of his chuckle, the casual openness—never meant for you—shattered you. You stood there still, unresponsive.

"Sunny?" Jack asked, oh-so-gently, but it just pricked your skin like needles. Even his soft words had become a sign of betrayal. Was he just dragging you along?

A shaky exhale escaped you but your face remained stoic. Your movements were calculated.

"Lena wants you to talk to this patient, he doesn't agree with any of the nurses, says he wants a 'real, qualified doctor'."

"Okay—"

"—and ortho has your results ready for north five, just sign on those." You said in a clipped tone. Tou couldn’t even look at him anymore. You had to get out of there.

But you could still feel him. His furrowed eyebrows, tensed shoulders, concerned eyes—searching for answers, searching for you. All confused. But you didn't have answers. Not anymore.

So, you left, wordlessly, with your broken heart.

Him, with confusion etched onto his features.

Because you realized that while you looked for him in every room before even entering it, he probably never did.

So you should stop too.

Shouldn't you?

oh, what a curse it is to be lover girl

—laufey.

thank you for reading!

part two is out now!

tagging ppl who commented on inspo post:

@thefemininemystiquee @celestialceremonials @cloudwerewolf @seraphk1ss @mafercita101 @sugakookieswithacupoftae16 @loveisallyouneed1125 @moondustfairies @amethystmoonempress @pear-1206 @allthatisbuck1917 @rkentzler9 @hahaifolded @caroficrecommend

[ickology]

𓏵 ┊ jack abbot spanks your clit whenever you cum without permission . 18+

it’s hard to hold your orgasm with jack. he’s too experienced, too knowledgeable when it comes to your own body. he knows exactly where to touch you and how to — and on days like these when he’s feeling a little mean. rough-housing your body around and contorting your limbs into all kinds of positions to fit his cock deeper inside of you.

the head of his length nuzzled sweet against your g-spot — the spot that made you whine to jack, telling him to stop thrusting there because it pushed you closer and closer near the edge. “jack… please, it’s too deep— i can’t hold it!” the pitch in your voice shakes, it almost sounds like you’re trying to latch on anything to keep you from hitting the brink of

your toes curling into the muscle of jack’s traps. he has you in missionary, in the most meanest way possible as your back arches off the bed while he bullies against that spongy barrier inside of you.

“mm, c’mon sweetheart.” jack coaxes in that gruff voice with his crooked smile. he knows that request is too much to ask of you, yet he asked anyway. “you can hold it, i know you can.” he reaches a hand out to cradle the side of your face in the center of his rough palm.

his eyes on you, fixated on that little pout of your lips. “f—fuck, i’m trying— i can’t.” you stammer, hands clutching onto whatever is there for moral support as your soft walls choke around jack’s cock.

“fuck… you gotta at least try, baby.” he groans at the pressure overwhelming his length, his hips never halting as he feeds you thrusts after thrusts. “mmph— i am!” you break into a moan, feeling yourself unravel as a knot of pleasure builds near your pussy.

“yeah?” jack breathes quietly, watching you break underneath him before ducking down to peck at your lips. his damp, short-curly locks sprinkled with silver and brown brushing against your forehead gently as he whispers against your plush lips, “‘m sorry…” he says, rising up, and parting your thighs wider as his eyes flicker down to where you two are one.

your bud is plump and swollen, completely on display as the breeze hits your clit which makes you twitch a bit. jack releases one of your thighs and runs the flat side of his hand down your pelvis to your clit, slightly lingering on it with his thumb to hear the noises you make.

“gotta give this, pretty pussy a few love taps.” he fauxes a disheartened look as if he didn’t want to — though the way he’s swelling inside your pussy, and the absent twitches say otherwise before he’s raising a free hand. causing your pulse to race at the quick anticipation before he’s cracking a palm flush against your swollen clit with a wet whack.

“mmgh— j—jack!” you yelp, hands flying around his forearms when you jolt at the sting spreading in between your legs. “i know, baby ‘m sorry.” he apologizes before going for another blow making your spine arch further from the bed.

“please…” your fingers digging into his skin, and biting your lip with teary eyes. “shh— just one more.” he murmurs softly, but you’re one away from cumming for the second time. “you liar.” you bite, voice all trembly it makes jack’s cock jump.

jack lets out an amused, breathless chuckle at you labeling him as a liar because those hits were everything, but love taps.

“promise you won’t hate me?” he rasps, giving your abused clit a second to recover before showing her some more love.

[starling-in-the-sky]

Backup

Jack Abbot x Nurse!Reader

Summary: It’s the Pitt’s worst kept secret that you’re Dr. Abbot’s favorite nurse. When a close call with a patient leaves you hurt and vulnerable, he steps in to make sure you’re all right.

Word Count: 2.3k

Content: fluff, protective Jack, aggressive patient, depictions of violence and assault of medical staff, Jack being a professional yearner

A/N: Struggling with motivation to write, so thought I would try a new character and fandom focus just to flex my muscles. Anyways I’m in Pitt hell at the moment, so here ya go.

It was a shift from hell. 

A young man who’d gotten in a terrible motorcycle accident, a teacher with a pulmonary embolus who’d stroked right in front of you, and a pediatric case that the team coded off and on for hours until he couldn’t be brought back from the brink. Those cases tended to hit the team the hardest, doctors and nurses alike. Suffice to say, morale was low already across the board. Weariness and suppressed emotions seeped down to your bones.

And then Brian rolled in.

Brian was a frequent flyer substance abuse case, one who’d refused help time and again from the night shift social worker. He was stubborn and bitter (and probably a closet misogynist, based on how he spoke to the female staff), but usually harmless. Usually.

Still, it seemed the universe had it out for you that night.

You took his vitals and deflected the usual inappropriate comments and lecherous looks as you always did. He didn’t seem to like that you weren’t your normal, smiling self. He grew more and more agitated, but you didn’t call ‘hula hoop'. You thought you could handle him. That once he got his treatment, he’d calm down some, like all the other visits before.

He tried to get out of bed, and you began to gently redirect him to sit down again. Hands seized your shoulders in an iron grip, and that’s when you realized this wasn’t like the other visits.

Your back hit the wall hard, knocking the wind out of you. The back of your head collided with the drywall, accompanied by a sharp pain and stars behind your eyes. You could barely breathe, let alone shout, but luckily Brian was shouting, and that would catch someone’s attention. Spittle flew from his lips as he screamed incoherently in your face, as you tried with all your might to wrench yourself from his grip, as you gasped like a fish out of water.

At last, your lungs filled with a little bit of air, and you weakly called out, “Hula—“

Brian was ripped away from you by several pairs of hands before you even finished the phrase, and you collapsed to the floor.

He'd been talking to Lena at the front desk, debriefing on the trauma that had just been moved up to ICU, when he heard the noise. Jack's head whipped in the direction of the shouting. Through the glass, he could see a hostile patient, standing up and raving nonsense. 

Then just past the patient’s shoulder, he saw you, pinned to the wall with wide, frightened eyes and a gasping mouth. You, the sweetest nurse in the building, who had a smile for everyone and wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Jack began moving before he fully absorbed what he was seeing, before he recognized Brian. All he knew was that you were in harm’s way, which was unacceptable. So he skidded around the edge of the desk, grabbing Diaz by the back of his scrubs and hauling him towards North 6. 

He flew through the doorway and roughly yanked the man away from you, arguably much harder than necessary. The man snarled and shouted profanity as Jack and Diaz wrestled him back to the bed. 

“—stupid fucking whore—“

The patient tried to sit up, and Jack, seeing red, slammed him back down by the shoulder. The patient yelped and writhed beneath his grip. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that someone was trying to to shoulder past him, but Jack stood firm, his jaw clenched as he held the man down.

“Abbot.”

Jack almost didn’t hear the warning past his own pulse roaring in his ears. He turned to see Shen, moving in to take Jack’s place, a stern but understanding look on his face. 

Over his shoulder, Jack saw your crumpled form on the floor, pale and trembling. A few shards of broken plastic surrounded you on the tile, and only when he saw your hair falling wild around your face did he realize what they were — the remains of the clip that you wore your hair in every day, shattered to bits when your head hit the drywall. 

You stared in shock at the scene before you, your eyes still wide like a spooked animal’s.

Jack's eyes snapped back to Shen, and he allowed him to replace him in restraining the patient. “You got him?”

Shen nodded, then jerked his head in your direction. “Get her out of here, and tell security to get off their asses.”

Jack was at your side in an instant, one hand at your back, the other hand wrapped around yours as he quickly pulled you to your feet and steered you out of the room. “All right. I gotcha,” he murmured. “I gotcha.”

“Lena, tell security to wake up and help out in North 6.” He tried not to shout, but the words still came out rougher than he intended. He felt you flinch slightly beside him and kicked himself internally. “What’s open?”

“South 18. You alright, hon?” Lena had already moved out from behind the desk when the chaos started a few seconds ago, and she laid a gentle hand on your shoulder. You nodded weakly but said nothing.

Lena began to walk with you and Jack towards South 18, but Jack insisted, “I got her. Can you keep this place from falling apart for five minutes for me?”

She nodded, squeezed your shoulder, and pivoted back towards the hub.

Jack ushered you into the room, closed the door behind him, and eased you onto the edge of the bed.

“I’m okay,” you blurted, before he got the chance to say anything. The tremor in your voice and the tension in your shoulders told a different story.

“I know you are,” he replied gently. “I'm just gonna take a look at you. Hospital policy.”

He reached his hand into his pocket for his penlight. “Eyes open for me.” You squinted as he checked your pupillary response, rolled your eyes when he asked, “What's today’s date?”

“Dr. Abbot—"

“Humor me,” he softly urged you, pocketing his penlight again.

You sighed and surrendered. “Thursday, the fifteenth.”

He offered you a smile. “Wasn't so hard, was it?”

As gently as he could, Jack examined the back of your head where it had made contact with the wall, his fingers probing your scalp. You hissed quietly when he pressed near the tender spot.

“Tender here, but no broken skin. You'll probably just have a bump for a few days.” he said thoughtfully, pulling back to look at you. “I wanna get you into CT, just to be sure.”

You started to protest. “I’m fine, I promise—“

“Please,” Jack interrupted you, not allowing you to talk him out of his concern. “For my own peace of mind, if nothing else.”

After a moment’s hesitation, you nodded. “Okay.” 

You peered up at him with those still-frightened doe eyes and took a stuttering breath, your lower lip wobbling ever-so-slightly. Jack's heart nearly cracked at the sight of it. 

“Hey, hey,” he muttered sympathetically, and before he thought better of it, he pulled you into a tight embrace. “C’mere, sweet girl.”

He was sure to regret that particular turn of phrase later. It was too affectionate, a little too revealing. But you were so small and fragile in his arms, and he couldn’t fight his instincts to hold you close, to murmur reassurance into your hair.

“He’s not comin’ near you again,” he vowed, a surge of protectiveness underneath the words. “I promise.”

Your fingers tightened in the fabric of his scrubs, your breath hitching with held-back sobs. Jack kept his breathing slow and steady, and soon enough your breathing matched his, evening out to a calmer rhythm. He gave you one last squeeze, breathing in the sweet scent of your shampoo at the crown of your head, and then released you.

Just then, Lena cracked open the door, holding up your water bottle, the one you covered with stickers. Your cheeks flared with embarrassment at having been caught in such an emotional state, and you quickly wiped away the tell-tale tear tracks streaking them. Jack quietly thanked Lena and grabbed the water bottle, passing it to you when you were ready and politely dismissing her. 

“Here, drink.”

You sat down on the edge of the bed once again, taking a few sips obediently. Jack suspected you could use a quiet moment to yourself, so he straightened his spine and prepared himself to return to the circus that likely awaited just beyond the door.

“Sit tight for me, and we’ll get you down to radiology. Can I get you a snack or somethin’?” he offered, his hands slipping into his pockets so they wouldn’t do something foolish like reach for you again. 

You shook your head. “I’m not hungry, but… thank you.”

“Of course. Can't lose my best nurse. You're my backup.”

You didn’t smile. You weren’t quite there yet. But your expression softened a little, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. You’d be all right, he was sure. You were tough underneath all that sweetness, and you wouldn’t let this get you down for long.

Jack gave you the kindest smile he could manage and slipped back out into the hall.

You hated being treated with kid gloves, and there was a lot of that for the next few shifts. Your head CT had come back normal, and without evidence of a concussion, Dr. Abbot let you finish the last few hours of your shift under strict advisement to ‘take it easy’ (which was easier said than done in the Pitt).

But the damage had been done. People had seen you weak, seen you cry. For a week after the incident, every interaction with Pitt staff was marked with well-meaning check-ins and encouragement bordering on the patronizing. You just wanted to forget the whole thing had ever happened, but that was impossible with all the hovering.

The only attention you received that didn’t exhaust or annoy you was Dr. Abbot’s. He'd smile at you from across the bay, but it was friendly, not an expression of pity. He’d ask you how you were doing like he genuinely wanted to hear about your day, not because he was worried you were about to have another breakdown. He cracked jokes and threw winks at you as he worked over patients and instructed residents. 

It wasn’t all that different from his usual attention, just more…dialed-in. It had the same effect on you that it always did — an inexplicable warmth in your chest, a flush to your cheeks, and a slight flutter in your stomach. It was a welcome distraction from the bruises and soreness that were still fading from the altercation.

Three shifts after the incident, you arrived at the Pitt, tossing your bag in a locker and shuffling over to the hub desk. Waiting by the spot where you usually left your water bottle was an unexpected sight — a gift bag, small and in an unassuming color, bearing a tag with your name on it.

On the opposite side, in messy but familiar handwritten script, the tag read:

In case you need a backup.

-J

Flushing slightly, you glanced around you to make sure you didn’t have anyone’s attention before opening the bag. Inside were two small items. The first was a hair clip — not just any hair clip, but the exact one that had lain shattered on the Pitt’s floor almost a week ago, the one you had worn religiously since you started working there. It was just a generic hair clip you had found at the drugstore — not fancy, sturdy enough to keep your hair out of your face and last a couple years. But the fact that he’d gone out of his way to find that exact one made your heart do funny things in your chest.

The second item was a scrunchie, the color matching the fleece you wore most days to stave off the chill of the air con. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you slipped the scrunchie around your wrist and began to wind your hair up into a twist, securing it with the clip.

Somehow materializing out of thin air right in front of you on the opposite side of the desk, Bridget gave you a playful side eye as she typed into her tablet. “I know that look. That's an HR issue waiting to happen.”

You feigned nonchalance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Discreetly as possible, you slipped the tag off the bag and tried to pocket it. But Diaz, who also apparently obtained teleportation powers, snagged your wrist and managed to pry the tag from your fingers.

“‘’J? Who could that possibly be?” He smirked as you snatched it back, your cheeks on fire.

“Only one person in this building makes her smile like that,” Bridget replied with knowing amusement.

“You know you’re totally his favorite, right?” Diaz whispered conspiratorially. “None of us ever get presents.”

You elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up.”

He snickered as you rounded the desk to glance up at the board, getting the lay of the land as you started your shift. Across the bay, Abbot was doing the same, hands in his pockets, until his eyes drifted to you.

Something twinkled in his eyes when they fell on the scrunchie at your wrist, and a proud smile spread across his face. You smiled back, a little shy but fond all the same, before moving in the direction of your first patient.

(didn't do my permanent taglist on this one because it's not Bucky and idk if yall go in for that sort of thing, but if yall are interested in the future lmk<3)