ㅤㅤ ㅤ⭑ pairing. ex!jack abbot x surgery attending!reader
ㅤㅤ ㅤ⭑ about.
trips to the emergency room landed you in the path of none other than doctor jack abbot, and maybe it was just fate trying to push things along a little faster. (wc: 3.130)
ㅤㅤ ㅤ.ᐟ warnings.
slight angst. death. slightly suggestive. wrong medical procedures. ex jack abbot. chubby reader.
ㅤㅤ ㅤᯓ masterlist.
This night had yet to truly begin, but the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center had no intention of sleeping it off. The night shift was starting to arrive, little by little, ready to take over and you had been the first one. Well second one, but the real first one had a tendency to arrive hours before, anyway.
You were watching the sun slowly dip below the horizon in the ambulance bay while smoking what would probably be your last cigarette of the day. The sky was clear, no clouds hiding the fading light, and the temperature was perfect—neither too cold nor too warm. The short sleeve t-shirt, that was definitely not yours, felt perfect for such temperature.
Spring was slowly settling in, and it felt good to finally enjoy some mild weather.
"Those will kill you!" an annoying voice called from the side.
Turning toward the voice, you were met with Dr John Shen, the night shift R3 resident. In his hands were two iced lattes—one he was sipping far too loudly on and the other he now held out to you.
"Heard it was you tonight," he said between sips.
"Walsh is here too," you replied, dropping the finished cigarette butt on the ground before accepting the much appreciated coffee. "Never thought I'd be shadowing again, but she's showing me the ropes as a surgery attending."
With that explanation, you shot him a pair of finger guns before taking your first gulp of coffee. Crouching down, you picked up the cigarette butt between your fingers and tossed it into the trash.
"Excited?" Shen asked, returning the finger guns.
Sometimes, you missed it, being an emergency doctor. Even if it had been an easy decision after your first year of residency to switch to surgery, you had loved both paths all the same. Most of your training years, both as a doctor and as a surgeon, had been spent away from Pittsburgh, which meant you had never really worked with Shen or Ellis back then—yet they had become very dear coworkers.
"Sure. Don't think it'll change much," you answered with a shrug. "My OR might finally be quiet, though."
Shen laughed at that. Being an attending meant you were the one doing the procedures. As a resident, you still operated, but someone was always there—watching, guiding, teaching. Necessary, of course, but you had never fully gotten used to people hovering over your shoulder and the loud way they worked.
"When's it your turn?" you asked, glancing down at the watch on your wrist.
You still had ten minutes. Good.
"Still got a year or so," John said, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"Good morning," another voice chimed in before you could respond.
Turning around, you were met with none other than Emery Walsh—your favourite coworker slash mentor, if not one of your closest friends. Her hair was already tied up, unlike yours, and she wore that usual serious expression, softened only by the small, sweet smile on her lips.
"Ready for your first night of freedom?" she asked, looking at you.
Laughing softly, you nodded as you sipped your coffee. It was a much needed boost of energy, and you intended to drink as much of it as possible before heading inside. Emery, however, had other plans.
Clapping her hands together, her smile widened. "Let's go, then!"
Turning to follow her inside, you winked at Shen, knowing it wouldn't be the last time you saw him tonight. On an average night, you would go down to the emergency department at least ten or twelve times but since this was your first night, and you were convinced it was jinxed, you had a feeling you'd be seeing them far more often.
Every first day of every new year in your career had been chaotic. A bus accident. A mass shooting. COVID. It had always been a mess, and even if you wanted to believe tonight would be different, you weren't entirely convinced.
Upstairs, as you changed, you chatted casually with Emery while she walked you through your responsibilities even though she had technically been giving you the same ones for years. Now, it was simply official.
The first hour was calm. A little too calm.
Garcia made her rounds, briefing everyone on what to expect for the night and what had been handled during the day. According to her, it had been a nice day, though some would argue her definition of nice was questionable. The moment she badged herself out, however, you were paged for a surgery consult in the ER.
It took only a few minutes to get downstairs. Lena directed you to Trauma 2, where a drunk man had jumped off a bridge, apparently convinced there was water underneath. The paramedics didn't know how he had survived but luckily, he had.
When you entered, you were already on the phone with neuro. You stopped in your tracks as you took in the scene. Around the patient stood three residents and, unmistakably, the department attending. Dr Jack Abbott.
Your ex.
That alone didn't make you see red. What did was the procedure he had already started. Still listening to your colleague on the phone, you watched with growing anger as he manoeuvred a catheter that absolutely should not have been in the patient's back yet.
"Neuro wants a CT and X-ray first," you said sharply as you slipped into a gown and sterile gloves.
"He doesn't have time for that," Jack replied, unconcerned by your tone.
Then he motioned Ellis forward, who looked up at you in confusion. You shook your head slightly rising an eyebrow at the same time—asking her silently not to go—but Jack insisted. You understood why the procedure was tempting, innovative and impressive but it was also a very bad idea in this situation.
Stepping forward, you reached to take the catheter from Parker's hands, but Jack moved in front of you, his back blocking your path.
Clicking your tongue, you circled the table instead, knowing Abbot wouldn't move, eyes flicking to the vitals and the ultrasound the nurse was holding, already assessing the damage.
"This is a bad idea," you argued, glaring straight at Abbott.
"If he lives, he's going to be grateful," Jack replied, his eyes never leaving his student's hands as they moved between the patient and the screen.
"Exactly," you shot back, spite creeping into your voice. "If he lives."
That finally made him look at you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He was infuriating—especially because you knew he was an excellent doctor who wouldn't attempt a procedure he didn't believe in. Still, his habit of overruling other departments got on your nerves on the daily, and you truly hoped your shifts wouldn't keep lining up with his.
Minutes later, your hands remained clean. The patient was stable and could wait a few hours for a neuro consult. His spine was still in rough shape, and you had no idea what his brain looked like yet, but he was stable.
"Can take him upstairs now," Abbott said with a smirk, his eyes boring into yours.
You smirked right back. "He'll have to wait. Since he doesn't need surgery anymore, you'd better find him a nice spot in one of your hallways, Dr Abbott."
Dropping your gloves and gown into the floor, you checked your phone for missed calls. Nothing. Not from Walsh, not from Neuro. The man would have to wait.
"We don't have the space," Jack commented as you were already walking out.
Moving backward, you shrugged at him with a satisfied smile. "Should've thought about that before you did your thing."
With your grin stretching wider, you turned on your heel and headed toward the elevator. Ellis Parker caught up with you halfway there, jogging slightly.
"I didn't want to overstep you," she began, clearly ready to say more.
You lifted a hand to stop her as you pressed the elevator button. Turning to her, you offered a soft, understanding smile.
"I get it," you reassured her. You would've done the same in her position. "Don't worry about it. It's all Abbott."
Back on your floor, you let out a long sigh.
It probably would've been better to bring that man upstairs so he could have a room instead of sitting in a hallway but Abbott had made his call. No urgent surgery meant he stayed put until a room freed up. No bending rules on your first day. You didn't really want another email from the big guys upstairs—not right after your promotion.
You dropped into the chair next to Walsh and finished what remained of your coffee, sipping loudly. Even while staring at the surgery board, you could feel her eyes drifting from her screen to you.
"What happened?" she asked, already knowing something had.
"Abbott happened," you sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "Why call for a surgery consult if he's just going to do whatever he wants?" You muttered to no one in particular.
"You two really need to fuck it out and get it out of your system," she deadpanned, eyes still on her monitor.
You cringed and rolled your eyes. "We tried that for years. Didn't work too well."
You and Abbott had been together for six years. But work—and the fact that you were both hopelessly married to it—had made the relationship difficult. Eventually, neither of you put in the effort anymore. It didn't help that Abbot was a rules bender and you were a rule follower. Two very different way of working, and once you were working in the same hospital… it all went down.
"Try again," she shot back before lowering her voice. "I'm tired of hearing you complain about him."
"You complain about him too," you snapped.
She laughed, then turned fully toward you, her chair squeaking. Mischief sparkled in her eyes.
"Unlike you, I'm not desperately in need of getting laid," she smirked, gesturing toward the framed photo beside her computer of her and her girlfriend.
You rolled your eyes again, mimicking her tone under your breath before turning to your own screen. According to the schedule, it was supposed to be a calm night. Not much planned. Plenty of free ORs for emergencies. It should've been smooth.
Then your phone rang again.
Seeing the name of the neuro attending, you braced yourself. Sure enough, you endured several long minutes of being lectured about how reckless it had been to let Abbott attempt that procedure. Obviously, he didn't know Abbott. As if he would have listened to you, even if you had gotten there before he began.
Later, in the OR, you were finally working in silence—the kind you preferred—when the nurse, Matthews, answered the ringing wall phone. Walsh was in another OR, handling something far more urgent so calls went your way.
After Matthews said your name to the caller and put the speakers on to you, Abbott's voice came through. You almost wished it were anyone else, but lately it seemed like every call was him.
"Any rooms available right now?" he asked, sounding out of breath. Which was odd, he usually was in total control of himself. That only made you a bit panicked as Abbot wasn't one to panic easily.
"Yeah. Plenty," you replied, adjusting your grip on the scalpel. "No surgeon available though. Why?"
"Fuck," he muttered immediately. "How long before someone's free?"
"Why?" you pressed again, already preparing yourself for something big.
"Family of six hit by a drunk driver," he said quickly. "Six criticals. One dead on scene."
"Fuck," you whispered, glancing up at your team. "We'll move as fast as we can. Have Lena warn Walsh and the nurses up here."
"Yeah." And the line went dead.
Thirty minutes later, your appendectomy patient was back in recovery, and the rest of the night's schedule had been cleared. As soon as you finished the procedure, you left your student to handle the sutures and rushed downstairs.
When you pushed through the trauma bay doors, chaos greeted you. Pulling on a gown and gloves, you hurried toward the nearest bed.
"What am I looking at?" you asked as the small child's body lay covered in compresses.
When you gently pushed them aside, you saw the metal pole lodged in the left side of her chest, making you inhale sharply. It had been cut down by the paramedics, surely, but it was still in place. Glancing up at the ultrasound, you noted the alarming amount of blood pooling inside—almost as much as what had already soaked through the dressings.
This wasn't looking good. At all.
"She's bleeding out," you muttered, immediately calling cardio.
The bar was dangerously close to her heart and had grazed a lung. Letting out a slow breath of relief at that small mercy, you instructed the team to move her upstairs immediately. Cardio was already waiting by the elevator.
The next trauma room was even worse than the first.
Blood, compresses, torn clothes—everything littered the floor, all of it soaked red. The child on the bed was older than the girl you had just seen, but Jack was performing cardiac massages with a force that told you the little boy's chances were slipping away.
The vitals were crashing. When they paused to shock him, the monitor gave no response. No rhythm. No recovery.
When you looked down at the boy, you met Jack's eyes. Carefully, you shook your head, just slightly, before stepping out of the room.
The mother had survived the crash—along with two of the other children—and you still needed to assess them. As you pushed through the glass door, you frowned when the steady, unbroken beeping filled the air behind you, followed by Jack quietly calling the time.
He had looked barely older than eight.
Three hours later, with the moon high in the sky, you finally allowed yourself a short break. Slipping out to the ambulance bay, you leaned against the wall, letting the silence of the night settle around you. Closing your eyes, you light up your cigarette.
The mother hadn't survived. Three children left alive and now orphaned. The drunk driver, meanwhile, barely had a scratch.
Life was cruel like that.
A police officer stood guard outside his room, waiting for him to wake up so they could question him and hopefully arrest him.
You took a long drag of your cigarette, not noticing the footsteps approaching until a warm, familiar presence settled beside you. You didn't even open your eyes.
"Thought you said you were quitting," Jack said softly. No smirk. No teasing edge. Just quiet.
"Tonight isn't the night," you replied, exhaling smoke slowly.
"A bit rough for your first night as an attending," he said, attempting conversation, though the air between you felt heavier than usual.
"Don't know why you'd say that," you answered, finally opening your eyes to look up at him. "Only lost a child and his mother, leaving three kids as orphans. Could've been worse."
Your tone was humourless, the joke hollow even to your own ears.
Most people would've flinched at that. Thought you cold. Detached. A bitch. But not Jack. He knew you well enough to recognize the cracks you refused to show in front of anyone else. No one wanted to see their doctor cry. He knew you were fighting off the break down that was on the verge of happening.
Soft fingers plucked the cigarette from your lips and brought it to his own. You rolled your eyes as he took a small drag before exhaling. It was a rare sight, Jack Abbott smoking and somehow it only made him more irritatingly attractive.
Your phone ringing broke the moment.
Walsh's voice spilled through the line, saying she needed your help, but your eyes were still fixed on Jack's hands—those stupid, steady fingers moving from his mouth to holding the cigarette between them. His bicep flexed slightly with the motion, and by the way you could feel his gaze lingering on you, you knew he was doing it on purpose.
The asshole. It was unfair how attractive he was.
The plan was to leave without saying anything. And you tried. You really did. But the image of his fingers lingered in your mind, and before you could stop yourself, you spoke right before the ambulance bay sliding door.
"Meeting at your place at 9 a.m.?" you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder.
His smirk returned, softer this time. Gentler. The kind of smile he only ever showed you, the one no one else got to see. It wasn't mocking. If anything, it was predictable. You knew he would've texted you the same thing within the hour if you hadn't asked.
"Sure," he replied in a low voice. "But I'm making dinner. Don't bring anything."
You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but still gave a small nod. You liked this little arrangement of yours. No one but the two of you knew that the breakup hadn't really been a clean breakup. That, every now and then—often after long shifts—you'd end up at his place, or he'd show up at yours.
The comfort you brought each other was something you couldn’t find in anyone else. It was hard to find someone who truly understood your line of work, who knew what it meant to lose a life and keep moving anyway because you had no choices. With Jack, that comfort had always come easily—quiet, wordless, and steady. Toward the end of your relationship, it had been the only good thing left between you.
A bit of distance had done you both good. It had forced you to grow, to change, to compromise in ways you never had before with the other. Because, in the end, you had both realized that living entirely without each other felt worse than being apart—at peace.
Walsh's earlier words echoed in your head as you stepped into the elevator, making you laugh quietly to yourself. Unlike you, I'm not desperately in need of getting laid. If only she knew.
Not that you'd ever admit it out loud, not when Abbott's ego was already large enough but the sex you were getting was certainly better than hers—and way more frequent. The truth was that your situation, whatever it was, worked. Situationship, friends with benefits, unfinished business… it didn't really matter what label people would give it.
And while neither of you wanted to acknowledge it, it looked an awful lot like the way things had been when you were still together.
A little secret never hurt anyone, after all. And it certainly wasn't hurting you—quite the contrary.
a.n. : happy birthday to me :) for the occasion a little abbot thing based on what i imagine walsh and him dynamics gave in s1, petty exes. yeah i also made her a lesbian because she also gives off this vibe... miss her.
summary: you and jack are in the process of getting divorced- on your terms, but when he sees you again at a party, things take a left.
warnings: there is smut- like 2/3 smut, so minors DNI!! for everyone else, this story contains: jealous!jack, toxic!jack, slight degrading, slight choking, car sex, ass slapping, humiliation, and i'm pretty sure that's it lol
a/n: this is my first and last time ever writing smut and i also don't really read smut, so if it sucks, you can tell me. it also took me a month to write this, so i apologize for any awkwardness and any inconsistency throughout and the sloppy ending. this will more than likely be the worst smut you'll ever come across, but that's probably a good thing. i hope you enjoy!!
People told the two of you when you first got eloped after a year of being together that you were moving too fast, but your hearts and minds were impenetrable forces in the fever pitch of your love. From there, things moved even faster- and eventually in different directions.
It wasn’t that you two fell out of love, but instead realizing it just wasn’t for the best. You gave up the battle long before Jack did, despite how much it hurt you to. You were young and there was still so much that you two had to offer to the world before you drained yourselves with the effort of keeping a flame alive.
You found a new confidence and security within yourself and your personal ventures that you didn’t know you lost and Jack’s career flourished over the months. Nothing slowed down for either of you afterwards.
It was a hot summer night somewhere in a rich neighborhood where people had houses dedicated to throwing parties. You didn’t even know the owner of the house, but it was an extended invitation that you weren’t going to miss out on. Claiming it was in the name of your promotion, you put on the hottest outfit in your closet and made yourself look as good as you felt.
All the windows and doors were open and letting in the muggy air. Your body was sticky and even the wine cooler in your hand was starting to sweat. You giggled to your friend as you held it up to your head and leaned back against a wall with her.
“This is nice.” you laughed after she tipped her own drink in your mouth. You grimaced at the taste and remembered how partial Angie was to strong drinks.
“Yeah, I feel like I never see you anymore.”
“You live right around the corner, Ang.”
“Yeah, but you’re always working and stressing out over the divorce.”
“Separation.” you corrected her quietly and she gave you a side eye. “And I’m not stressed about it. It’s just that every time I try to talk to Jack about it... he clams up. Talks about getting back together and he gets weird.”
“Weird how?” Angie asked, and the moment she saw a frown form on your lips and your shoulder slump, she stopped you short. “As a matter of fact, I don’t want to hear it. We’ll discuss it when we’re hungover tomorrow. Tonight, you need to catch a body, girl.”
You laughed at her bluntness and grew warmer than you already were. “Angie!”
“No, I am sick and tired of hearing about your bitch-ass ex-husband-to-be.” she set her cup down and ushered you to take a long sip out of your own drink. “He stressed you out enough when you were together.”
After giving her a quick peck on the cheek, you grabbed her hand and danced your way into the center of the party, where the music blasted and sweaty bodies grinded against each other’s. You had no intention of going home with anybody besides Angie for the mandatory night-out sleepover, but that didn’t mean you weren’t feeling yourself or the eyes on you as you danced to the music.
With Angie as your hype woman, you slowly worked your way closer to the floor with her chanting behind you. You were all laughs and giggles as you danced and traded places with Angie as she pulled out moves that were more advanced than your own. It was when the two of you were hugging on to each other while yelling out moves that the crowd wafted away and a few people pulled out their phones.
You couldn’t quite catch who was at the door, but it was obvious that you were distracted because you totally missed the deep voice that drew your attention.
“Y/N.” Angie hissed, unravelling from you as a handsome man came into view. “Sorry, she hates crowds.” You glanced at Angie for her lame excuse, but she shrugged aggressively.
“Hi, I’m Y/N.” you smiled politely, and held out your hand. “Nice to meet you.”
The man in front of you looked down at your hand with a smile and you began to retract it in embarrassment, but he caught it quickly and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. With a soft giggle, you pulled it from his loosening grip and clasped your hands behind your back. Angie caught your eye over his shoulder and with a quiet whistle, she disappeared back onto the dance floor.
“I’m Garret.”
“Hi, Garret.” you said quietly, feeling shy all of a sudden.
“I can’t quite hear you over the music.” his said, and you went to repeat yourself, but he tilted his head back to the kitchen. “Why don’t we go somewhere quieter? I want to hear everything you have to say.”
“Okay,” you agreed, nodding your head and letting him lead you away.
You weren’t nearly wasted, so you indulged yourself in another wine cooler that sat in a cooler behind the bar. You held one out for Garret, but he shook his head. “I’m a scotch kind of guy.”
“Good to know.” you smiled at him as he leaned back. “Too strong for me.”
Garret laughed as he picked up a bottle of it and poured it into a shot glass. “I’m surprised. You seem like the fun-loving type.”
“I don’t come out to stuff like this often. My bones can’t keep up with it.” you joked and Garret laughed. “What about you?”
“Um, I’m not really a party guy. We were just supposed to be bar-hopping.”
“That’s how they get you.” you sighed jokingly and Garret laughed.
“Do you want to dance with me?” he asked, and you nodded setting down your drink and following him back into the center of the house.
Your hips were already moving just a few inches away from his front as he held your hand behind your head. You laughed when he spun you around and tugged you close to his chest. He stared down at you underneath the dark lights and a surge of confidence ran through your body and you licked your lips before getting close to him.
“Do you wanna get out of here?” he whispered in your ear as you grinded against him, trailing your hands along his sides.
You tilted your head coyly with a teasing pout. “But we just started dancing.”
“I know, but I don’t know if I’ll make it through this.” he chuckled when you crouched the slightest bit and looked at him through your eyebrows.
“Hang in there, tiger.” you breathed out, and the man’s breath hitched as you continued your sensual grinding.
There was no doubt about your effect on him as the sweat glistened on his forehead under the lights while he stared at you slack-jawed. You felt powerful as you worked your way around him, feeling the way he flirted with boundaries each time he carefully placed a hand anywhere below your waist. You smiled at him invitingly, but he was still too scared.
As you stood up straight, pressing your chest to his and getting dangerously close to his lips, you saw a head of the unruliest curls. Garret continued to stare as you kept your fiery gaze on the tall figure that cut through the crowd with confidence and an air of dominance that made your heart flutter. Your hold on Garret’s shoulders loosened when Jack locked eyes with you.
“Hey, do you want to go somewhere else?” you didn’t give Garret time to answer when you started to walk away, causing him to follow you.
“Uh, does m-my place sound good? Or I could get us a nice hotel?” you turned around to give him an answer- being that you had no interest in either of those places, but a loud call of your name stole your attention.
“Y/N!” with just a few feet away from the front door, where traffic was steady, Jack was approaching you both with an eager grin. “Hey, baby.”
“Don’t call me that.” you immediately muttered, much to Garret’s confusion.
“Do you know him?” Garret asked you, putting up a macho charade as Jack got closer. “Hey, man, if you’re drunk, you need to stay away from her.”
Jack’s smile got wider as he looked down at you with an incredulous grin before looking back at Garret- whom he towered over, and taking in his puffed chest and pursed lips before laughing.
“I’m her husband, goofy, who the fuck are you?”
“Jack.” you hissed, and he looked down at you with a shrug.
“You’re married! You were going to let me take you home with your husband here?” Garret looked appalled and all you wanted to do was pinch Jack for stirring this up.
You turned around, but not before throwing Jack an angry look. “No, I’m sorry. Jack and I aren’t an item.”
“But he’s your husband?”
“Legally, technically, yes.”
“Yo, I’m not into that kind of stuff. I’m not a freak like that.” Garret took a step back and your cheeks warmed.
“No, we’re married, but only in the eyes of the court.” you tried again, but it was useless.
“I think I’m going to pass on this one. It was nice to meet you, Y/N. If you weren’t married, we would’ve hit it off, I’m sure.”
“I’m sorry about all of this.” you said, but he was long gone before you could quite finish your sentence.
With a huff, you turned around to Jack who had on the tightest white tee shirt and a pair of blue jeans. You weren’t sure if it was the deprivation getting to you, but he got hotter every time you saw him. Of course, perhaps that was because of his rigorous training to get in better shape for tour or whatever genetics he had, but it was irresistible, which is why it took you so long to remember you were supposed to be mad at him.
“Hi, angel girl.” he said cheerfully, getting close enough for you to push your hands against. “I didn’t mean to mess with your boyfriend.”
“You are so aggravating, Jack.” you shook your head, and scoffed at him.
“I was just messing with him.” he defended, seeming more agitated than anything. “I didn’t tell him a single lie. We’re married.”
“We’re over. It’s only paperwork.”
“Paperwork that meant the world two years ago.” he mocked, before changing his demeanor in your silence. “You’re mad because now you think you aren’t gonna get laid?”
The music seemed a lot louder before Jack arrived, and now he was taking over your senses. The black light and strobing LEDs were replaced by his darkened blue eyes, the smell of weed and sweat became his cologne, and all you could hear was his voice that deepened with every word that edged closer to his taunt.
“I’m not doing this with you tonight.” you rejected him, turning around on your heel out of the door even though you had no way home outside of Angie who was playing beer pong on top of someone’s shoulders.
Before you could even make it a few steps away, two large hands were clutching onto your waist and pulling you back. Your back met Jack’s chest, eliciting an involuntary shudder. Even though you didn’t even try to fight him, his grip got tighter and his beard grazed against your skin as he lowered his mouth closer to your ear.
“Let’s go outside, hm? Because I’d love to know where this attitude is coming from.” he whispered, and you pursed your lips. “I’m not a fan of it, if I’m being honest.”
“Jack, I-”
“Outside, angel.” he let go of your waist and instead placed his hands on your arms, guiding you outside.
You kept your head down as Jack navigated you to the door that was already open. A few people stood outside on the porch with drinks and smoke, and they greeted the star accordingly. If it wasn’t for him removing his hands to dap them up, you wouldn’t have realized how cold it was.
“You alright?” he asked, when he put one of his hands on your lower back and you nodded.
“Just cold.”
“I’ll turn the heat on in the car.”
You weren’t sure how he was able to do it. The way Jack was able to lock eyes with you and snub out the fire that you set inside the party came so naturally. You were nervous in a sense, but it seemed like time was moving too slow for your taste as he took long strides towards his Jeep that was parked a little further away from the rest of the cars.
“I wasn’t going to sleep with him.” you said timidly, and Jack only spared you a quiet glance before looking up towards the moonlight.
“I know, angel.”
“How would you know that?” you frowned, stopping in your tracks when you remembered who were dealing with.
The haze that his dominating presence wore off as you realized just who you were dealing with. A smug, cocky man who always expected to get his way. It only took Jack a few seconds to turn around and look you up and down with an amused smile playing on his face.
“What are you doing?”
“Not this! I’m not getting in the car with you, so you can sweet-talk me into a dinner or something and then turn it into us getting back together. I’m done, Jack. I’m done with all of it.”
Jack didn’t say anything further, he only continued to walk towards his car.
“Don’t do that, Jack. You know how much I hate when you walk away when I’m talking to you.” you started to follow him against your better judgement. “Jack!”
“You said you don’t want to do this, so we won’t. If you want to go back to that party and dance with random guys that aren’t man enough to fuck you, go right ahead.”
“Who do you think you are?!” you got closer to him and Jack glared down at you. “We are separated, Jack, the only thing that’s left is to sign the papers. We’re over, so you don’t have the right to walk into my life when you feel like it and talk about who you think I might be fucking.”
Jack’s nostrils flared before he grabbed you again and pinned you against the outside of the car roughly. “I’m your husband.”
“That doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.” you told him finally, straining as he got closer to you, his eyes on your lips and yours on his. “We’re over.”
“You want to know what I’m over? What I'm sick and tired of?”
“What?” you asked roughly and Jack licked his lips before straightening his posture and looking down at you.
“I’m fed up with this fucking attitude.” he told you before grabbing your wrists and tugging you against his chest. You didn’t have a choice but to look up at him. “And I'm really tired of your mouth. And I’m sick and tired of you acting like you don’t miss me, angel.”
His last sentence was low as his firm frown turned into a smirk. You willed yourself to not have a reaction, although Jack’s hold on your mind and body was making a fool out of you.
“Still, though, I want to apologize.” he released your wrists and gave you a falsely sympathetic look. You didn’t say anything, given that Jack had taken over the moment- perhaps one he’d been waiting on. “For scaring off your dick for the night. Wouldn’t have been as good as mine, but we both know that. So let me make it up to you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You need it, angel girl.” Jack laughed out in amusement and you glared at him with all the dignity you could muster. “Fuck, I need it.”
When you didn’t immediately protest, Jack’s hands attached to your hips that he used to press you further against the car. His lips suckled to each sensitive spot on your skin masterfully. Your own hands fell to the metal of the car as you became even more determined to not allow Jack to win your body just yet.
It became harder to purse your lips as his beard irritated every body part he nipped or kissed at, and his hands gripped your hips and waist. Jack must’ve taken notice, which wasn’t surprising, because when he looked up at your face from your neck, he couldn’t help but laugh and run his thumb against your lips.
“Damn, it’s like that?” he chuckled, shaking his head before kissing your chin and standing straight to look you in your eyes. “Come on, Y/N, we both know that mouth makes much prettier noises than saying shit you don’t mean.”
You kept quiet once more and Jack raised his eyebrows before talking. “Maybe I’ve lost my touch, then. Forgot all the spots that had you falling apart just a few months ago. Is that it? Because I don’t want to embarrass myself, baby, if I’m not making you feel good, stop me now.”
“No.” was all you could utter, and it was clear you would’ve been better off keeping your mouth shut because Jack only teased you further.
“No, I’m not making you feel good or no, don’t stop?”
“Don’t stop.” your voice was airy and complacent, feeding into his irritating ego.
“What was that?” he got closer, getting his ear closer to your mouth.
“I said, don’t stop, Jack.”
“Why not? Why don’t you want me to stop?” he egged you on further and you whined childishly. “That’s not an answer.”
Jack’s smug blue eyes landed on you again, and you let out a heavy breath.
“I don’t want you to stop because I want you to fuck me. I want you to keep making me feel good.” you twisted your foot into the gravel as you faced Jack’s pensive expression. “Please, Jack.”
“There she is.” Jack grinned and another sigh escaped from deep within your chest. “Want me?”
“Yes, please.”
Jack bathed in your submissiveness, his hard-on becoming painful when you became something resembling putty as he opened his front door and sent the chair back before sliding in and pulling you onto his lap. You were sat right against his crotch and before you could even take a breather, he was tearing the fabric of your top.
You gasped at the way things picked up so quickly, but Jack couldn’t be bothered to slow down. Your head flew back and you hardly noticed the evening chill finding its way into the car.
“Jack, p-people are gonna see.” you breathed out while he kissed along your breasts that were sitting in your lacy bra- that you were rather surprised he hadn’t ripped. Your top was still straggling on your arms as he palmed at your stomach.
“I don’t care.” he gripped your hips when you leaned up at an effort to reach for the door and you whined. “It’ll tell everyone you’re mine, won’t it? Since you like to lead men on and make ‘em think you don’t already have someone taking care of you.”
You wished you could dispute it, but even as much you declined and tried to make it clear that his “care” wasn’t necessary, you couldn’t. When you first broke up, Jack was rather subtle about making sure your car was kept up or you weren’t giving yourself a headache trying to figure out how you were going to pay your bills- although that was never really a problem for you, and you only contributed it to making things amicable.
It was soon after that the few hundred dollars every other week, all kinds of pretty clothes being sent to you, and transfers to get yourself ‘something nice’ became overbearing. No matter how much you appreciated it all, it wasn’t very helpful when it came to trying to have Jack understand that it wasn’t his place anymore.
Once you blocked him on all everything, and started returning things to sender, Jack got to you through your friends. You had no clue how many times your friends secretly swiped their cards with the money Jack sent to treat you before you caught on.
“I keep telling you, Jack. You don’t need to do that.”
“Even if you keep trying to tell me that you’re not my wife, I married you and I made you a promise. No piece of paper will ever undo that.” he whispered, unclasping your bra and making you whine when he pulled it away slowly and the rest of your shirt fell by his feet. “I’m going to take care of you forever, whatever you could ever possibly want or need, I’ll make sure you have it.”
One of the most damning things Jack could ever do to you, is talk. It didn’t even have to be dirty talk, not one lewd word had to fall from his lips for him to get what he wanted from you. Even towards the end when the arguments were tiring, he could hold your eye contact and lower his voice to a gravelly hilt, and you would be as good as gone.
The same way he talked to calm you down was the same way he talked as he lifted up your skirt to bunch up right above your hips and inching his fingers up your inner thigh to meet your warm core. Your heart pounded and you swallowed as if you nervous and this was uncharted.
“I can’t clean up all the mess I've made, sweetheart, I know that, but I can start here. I can start with you.”
His words carried a layer of guilt and acknowledgment, and it wasn’t everything, it wasn’t going to be the first brick to build the house, but it was enough. It was enough for you to nod and spread your legs invitingly before leaning to kiss him.
“Thank you, angel.”
“Just this once, Jack.” you mumbled against his lips as he slid your underwear to the side and felt him hum against your lips. “Being serious.”
“I know.” he said dismissively before capturing your lips at the same time his fingers slid into you.
You hadn’t forgotten him or how it felt when he touched you. It was like relighting an old candle, the spark and fire that spread from the bottom of your was the same as it was all before. You writhed on his lap and Jack’s other hand wrapped around your lower back to keep you still. The sound of your arousal and loud moans filled the car as you rocked onto his fingers.
“Fuck, Jack. Fuck.” you couldn’t help but let out a pant and kiss him hotly once more before grinding into him.
“I still got it?”
“Mmhmm.” you swallowed, gripping his wrist as he curled his fingers inside of you. “Jack, this- this isn’t enough. I need you.”
“You sure you can take it? You look like you’re about to cry.”
“Shut up.” you uttered without thinking, and your and Jack’s eyes flickered onto each other’s at the same time. Yours were a lot more nervous, though, especially when he squinted and removed his fingers as you whined. “Jack, I’m-”
“This mouth,” he interjected, licking his own lips and pushing his slick fingers into your mouth. You suckled at a lame attempt at avoiding his next move, but it was obviously no use when he clucked his tongue and pulled his fingers away. “It’s going to get you in a lot of trouble with me, angel. Keep trying to play brat and I swear, you’re going to come crawling back and begging me to fuck you again, and I know you don’t want that.”
The tension was palpable as you stared at his stern expression. “Please, Jack. Please, baby.” you rolled your head desperately as you massaged uselessly at his shoulders. “C’mon.”
He swallowed tensely before his chest tensed and one of his hands slipped down to put the seat back. You immediately took it as a chance to rub over his chest and trail your hands down to the strained fabric of his jeans that was right above your core grinding against Jack’s rough denim.
“You’re all mine tonight, you know that, right?”
“Mmhmm.” you hummed, palming him while you hissed as you elicited your own pleasure.
Before you could fall into a decent groove, Jack’s large hand gripped your chin and forced you to look down at him. The street lights were no more than ambience lighting as they illuminated his features, capturing the light that escaped his hooded blue eyes, the gloss of his plump lips, and the shine that coursed through his hair. Beneath you, he was still yours. For as much as you pushed, he pulled.
“Say that.” he muttered, low and raspy, while your mouth opened in close.
“I’m yours tonight.” you whispered back and Jack smirked before bucking up his hips into your hand.
“Alright, then.”
With the nod towards his visibly hard crotch, you unbuttoned his pants with jittery hands, and looked up at him to find him still waiting for you to do something. When you paused for a moment too long, growing nervous, Jack’s husky voice filled the car to bring you reassurance when he leaned up to kiss your forehead.
“You don’t have to. I won’t think anything of it.”
“I want to.” you breathed out, and Jack raised his eyebrows. “It’s just been so long and I don’t want to... I don’t want it to be less than you expect.”
“You think I’m worried about how good it is when this is the closest, I've gotten to you in months, pretty girl?” Your cheeks warmed at his sentiment that made you shake your head as Jack’s hands trailed up your bare torso as he relaxed you with his touch. “I get to touch you, that’s all I care about.”
His thumbs grazed your peaked nipples and you released a choked-up moan as you leaned towards into his body. Jack rumbled at the back of his throat when he released himself from his pants, and felt you slide against his tip. The both of you moaned and gripped each other, Jack’s hand going to squeeze at your hip and your own to his bicep.
“Fuck, Y/N.” he huffed, gripping his shaft in his hand as he looked up at you. “You’re still sure?”
“Yes.” you mumbled, clutching the hem of his white shirt in excitement.
You both held eye contact as you lifted up on your ankles to allow Jack to guide his length towards your center. You pursed your lips and let your eyes slip shut as you held onto Jack’s shoulders and waited for the inevitable sting of the stretch overtake you.
“Fuck.”
“Oh, my- Jack.”
Your head fell and Jack helped lower your body to meet him. Both of your hearts were pounding in slow succession as Jack lifted back up to grind you against him and kiss along you.
“Missed the way you sat on this dick all pretty, baby.” you tilted your head back and quivered salaciously while he marked the column your neck. “Bet you missed the way it felt all in you, too, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Jack.”
“Yeah? Ride me like you mean it, then. Like you’re so sorry for being so mean to your husband.” he said as if he were a victim.
If you weren’t in such a daze, you would’ve shaken your head and said something snarky, but the only response you could offer to the way he rolled his hips and gripped your ass. You nodded and leaned up, placing your hands on his sides while looking down at him.
“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, baby.” he told you, fondling your breasts as you leaned back and set your pace and immersed yourself in the full feeling that Jack provided.
“You’re so big, J.” you rushed out through your moans and Jack smirked. “Fuck.”
You readjusted yourself to a more comfortable position and halted when the angle hit all the right spots. You cursed under your breath and Jack laughed as he grinded his own hips to match your languid rhythms.
“You’ve had so much mouth, angel, what happened?” he teased you condescendingly and you huffed when his two fingers found your clit and circled the bud even slower. Your mouth fell open and your eyes were quickly drawn to Jack’s. “Has all of this been your really cruel way of saying, ‘fuck me, Jack’?”
“Jack.” you swallowed, picking up your pace as you bucked your hips desperately when he removed his fingers and stopped fucking you. “Jack, please, baby.”
“All of that shit talk, and now look who’s fucking themselves.”
You hadn’t realized how quickly you’d picked up, lifting yourself and bucking your hips for the slightest bit of stimulation. The buzz in your body was nothing compared to the pure shock Jack could send up and through you in a matter of seconds. You knew what you had to do would give Jack more satisfaction than the tight squeeze your hole was giving him- and that was saying a lot as he bit his own lip.
“Please, Jack. Please, fuck me.” you begged, and you weren’t being granted a second of mercy as he sat up on his elbows and quirked an eyebrow curiously. “I can’t do it; I need you to.”
A tear slipped from your eye in a wretched attempt at pulling at the string that kept the ball in your stomach together. You bounced like there was nothing left for you when you got from on top of him, and it was almost enough to persuade him. Almost.
“Ask your husband to fuck you.” he told you, holding your chin and looking right into your teary eyes as you ground against him hopelessly.
“Please, fuck me, Jack.”
“Ask the man that gave you his last name to fuck you.”
“Please, Jack.”
“Is that what you want, Mrs. Harlow? You want me to be a good husband, right?”
“Y-Yes.” you pleaded, your hips growing sore and Jack’s hand around your chin finding a different place to squeeze right underneath your chin.
You looked at him and gripped his wrist that was connected to the hand around your neck. A tear slipped from your eye and down his arm, making him grin.
“Awe, poor Mrs. Harlow.” he said as you angled yourself forward with a new angle. “I want you to ask me to fuck you like you mean it, angel. This little act-” he tsked as if you weren’t giving your all into an orgasm. “It just isn’t doing it for me. Literally.”
Although he was lying straight through his teeth, it was almost embarrassing how you tugged at his wrist and leaned forward to capture his lips. It caught Jack off guard to a point where he had to brace your hips and chase away all that you had worked up to keep himself from bursting. You didn’t mind though as you continued to grind against his tip and tug at his hair while pulling away for untraceable pants of air.
“I want you, Jack. All I want is for you to fuck me. Just this once.” you panted and Jack’s cheeks flushed when you sank back onto “I’m all yours, Jack, I promise. Please, please.”
Jack didn’t let a moment of silence hang in the air before he thrusted upwards and made you gasp in shock. He had you reaching behind him and scratching at his rough denim in vain with the force and speed that he was filling you. His grunts followed your moans as you leaned back against the wheel and hung on to his forearms that were steadying your hips.
“Fuck!” you yelped out, your breasts bouncing against his face when he rested his forehead against your collarbones.
“You have- shit, no clue how bad I’ve got it for you still.” he said, driving into you until your eyes were rolling back and you could hardly process his words over the pure euphoria and skin against skin. “You’re not anyone else’s to touch besides mine, you got that?”
You couldn’t muster any response besides a lazy nod and hitched breath, which was in no world acceptable to Jack when he nipped at your chest and slapped the skin of your ass hard.
“You hear me?”
“Mm, yes.” you nodded, and Jack licked his lips before crashing them against yours.
“Don’t you ever forget who your husband is. Don’t ever forget your last name is Harlow. Don’t ever forget who’s making you see stars on their dick. The man you married.”
“I won’t. You’re my husband, Jack, I know.” you whispered in his ear and his hips stuttered at the sweet words.
It all came to you at once, a black flash and Jack registered it before you could. “Hold it.”
“I can’t, baby.” you whined, grinding your clit against a prominent vein for a chill up your spine.
“Hold it, angel. Or I swear-”
“Please don’t stop, Jack.” you sighed, and he grunted through his attempt to hold back.
“I won’t.”
Your actions became lazy as your orgasm approached you, and your arousal was coating the entirety of Jack’s cock. You dropped your head to his forehead and whimpered until he finally lost the pace he’d set. His fingers finding your clit once more bought you back to the tide and your legs shook as your climax wracked through your body moments before Jack shot into you.
“Holy-”
“Fuck.” he finished, fucking into you for a moment before finally reeling back.
Your legs gave out around him and your head fell to his shoulder while he kissed the hot, sticky skin he could find. You wrapped your arm around his neck and rode out the wave of pleasure before he was gripping the bottom of your thighs and kissing you gently to coax your attention.
“Lift up.”
“Jack,” you pouted, and he ran a hand through his bed of curls. “I’m so tired.”
“I know, but you can’t stay like this.” he told you and you huffed as he moved you back to his lap and his heart pattered when you fisted the back of his chain and lifted off of him. “I think I have a clean towel in here. Clean you up real quick.”
Jack made light work of your tired body and settled you to his passenger seat when he was done with a kiss. “Can I go back home with you?”
Jack pulled away from the closeness, but he was drawn back by your hand still playing in your hair. It was something he missed, the feeling of your fingers mindlessly twisting around in his curls and brushing the strands back into place before messing with another section. He missed the moments where if you weren’t in each other’s skins, it wasn’t enough.
“Of course, you can.” he reassured, pecking your swollen lips. “Are you okay, though? Would you feel better going back to your house?”
“Your house.” you said again, this time a lot softer and Jack nodded, relishing in the feeling of your hand trailing from the back of his neck to his cheek before it found your lap.
You sat in the white tee shirt that he was wearing and your miniskirt that was around your waist just moments ago. You felt more content with Jack than you did in a long time, in his passenger seat, and his clothes. You felt like you were his again.
||
Upon arriving to Jack’s house, memories flooded you again. The memories of arriving home late at night, where you could barely keep your head on your shoulders. The memories of rushing up to the front door to beat the other to the last of whatever desert that you were both craving. The memories of clothes not making it past the foyer.
Those were the memories that hit you first as Jack got out to lead you to the door. The memories of how cold the house felt after an argument or how scary it was to be all alone in bed at night and Jack couldn’t be bothered to come home.
Those were also the kind of memories that Jack kissed away from your mind from beside you, rubbing at your lower back in a limbo between sleep and conscious in the early morning. You could count out all the freckles on his nose and how many times he fluttered his eyelashes to fight the day ahead. You also couldn’t think of the last time you felt so content somewhere.
You had been awake for no more than hour and turned around to face Jack not long ago. You started off with your head against his chest, but when he twitched one too many times, you resorted to just close enough. You finally couldn’t ignore your body waking up as you took your leg from around Jack’s own.
“Where are you going?” he asked with his eyes closed, his heavy arm wrapping tighter.
“To the bathroom.” you answered softly, captured by his pretty blue eyes.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, licking his chapped lips and stretching out.
“I could go for something.” you nodded, and Jack mimicked the action before reaching out to rub your thigh that you had to admit was still sore. “I’ll be right back.”
Jack nodded and tugged his pillow beneath his head before rubbing his face and trying in vain to find sleep.
In the bathroom, you couldn’t help the butterflies swirling in your stomach and the smile that graced your face. Perhaps, you thought, you and Jack could work it out, that today could be a starting point. All the possibilities of what could become had crossed your mind until you stood up and found a black bra hanging on the back of the door.
Everything stopped for a moment, and everything that Jack had said the night before raced through your mind as you stared at it. Your heart pounded and your legs shook as water ran across your hands and your cheeks became wet. In a burst of adrenaline, you scoffed and threw open the bathroom door, hating yourself for being in only his shirt and a pair of his boxers, for how pathetic you looked staring back at him as if it was anyone else’s fault but yours for getting the idea that Jack could have possibly changed.
He was sitting up in bed, his lips floundering for the words to come to him, but you were already snatching your purse and shoes from the side of his bed.
“Y/N, quit it for a minute!”
When he made the mistake of touching you, you pushed at him and shook your head. “Don’t even try to give me that shit, Jack. Don’t try to tell me it’s nothing- that you were thinking about me the whole time.”
“Please let me explain.” he pleaded, picking up your purse that you dropped, but you only continued your fit of rage. “Angel.”
“I’m not your fucking angel, Jack. I’m not this docile woman that’s going to keep putting up with your shit because you know how to sweet-talk your way out of shit.”
“I was with her because I was lonely. The papers- they-”
“And I’m not? Fuck, I wasn’t? I wasn’t lonely when I saw your stories of you out with your friends in different cities? I wasn’t lonely when I was here trying to figure out why I couldn’t have that baby, Jack?”
“Y/N.” your words panged him, and you knew they did. You refused to back track, though, you had held in your pain and regret for far too long. “Come on, you know how sorry I am about that.”
“Yeah, sorry enough that you could shower me with gifts and follow me around and scare off another guy that might treat me better? That would actually be a husband, is that it? Fuck you and fuck your ego, Jack. I’m done. Seriously.” you threw your hands up and sniffled before digging into your purse and fishing out a gold wedding band.
Jack didn’t realize what him until it hit right against his pounding heart and fell to the hardwood of his floor. By the time he looked up, you were already on your way out, and he knew better than to follow you.
