a/n: continuing my smau addiction by soft launching a new potential series. this is just a snap shot because i cant conceptualize plot rn but i wanna write it. genuinely let me know if your interested or have suggestions xoxo
i also dont think i have a good grasp of the characters but ig that just means i need a rewatch.
also reblogs are an authors best friend ok now im done
Working as a coyote is fun - until you miss catching a bottle your coworker threw
pairing: jack abbot x f!coyote reader
Warnings: age gap (obviously), alcohol mentions, medical inaccuracies, nicknames, reader gets a pretty major cut, barely proofread
wc: 1.3k
a/n: i wish coyote ugly wasn’t a romcom; i just want a movie where hot girls can dance on a bar
also got inspo from @di1fluvr (their fic)
masterlist
next
The music blared, the crowd cheered - this was where you belonged. Sure it wasn’t ‘classy’ but you made BANK and it was fun - a win in your books. All the girls had a bit, a character to play - some more than the others. Alex had a bitchy cool girl thing, Sophie had the bimbo role locked. You had this cowgirl bit, bad accent, hat and boots - the complete look. It was fun - really good for tips.
Coyote Ugly was a common spot for bachelor parties, much to your chagrin - the bachelors were loud; always wanting to get on the bar, requesting stupid songs; unlike your regular customers who were for the most part respectful, considering your job was to be sexy but never obtainable. Never dip your pen in company ink - that’s what they said in ‘serious’ business, right?
Jack walked into the bar, immediately feeling old. Some country rock song was blaring as he glanced around - girls dancing on the bar, Steve's fiance would love that. He sighed, it was his one night off this week and he was spending it here? On a bachelor party for a guy who's been on the SWAT team for like 3 months? Instead of doing that laundry he desperately needed to do as of last week? Mistake… probably.
He glanced at the bar again, there were two girls - one in a brown leather bikini style top with fringe and black leather low waisted pants. The other girl had short denim shorts with some kind of wording on the back pocket - what it said he couldn't read, not without his glasses - her top was a gingham cropped halter top that tied in the front. He assumed, basing his theory entirely on her cowboy boots and hat - there was a theme to the girls.
You spotted a group of men walking in while performing on the bar with Alex; rolling hips and flipping your hair - the usual. You sniped the bachelor energy right away, internally rolling your eyes.
“Soph - bachlors” you shouted to her over the music.
She liked bachelor parties, she lived for this bar and would take any attention offered to her. She fixed her hair and you giggled affectionately.
The song ended and me and Alex hopped off the bar, getting back to serving drinks. Almost like clockwork, a man came up to the bar - “it’s my buddy’s bachelor - can you give him a little dance, beautiful?” he said, a sleazy smirk on his lips.
“Sorry, Honey, all I can offer is a shoutout or drinks” you said, a fake southern accent playing on your lips.
“Both - both sounds great, sweetheart" he said, calling over his friends
“Alrighy, Sugar - what can I get ya? Fair warning we do shots or beer” you said; sweetly southern.
“Shots for us and a beer for the old man” he said, gesturing to the boys he was with. They were all fit, mostly 20-30’s except the ‘old man’. He was greying but still extremely fit like the others.
“$52 honey - not including tip” you said with a wink, pouring the shots.
He handed you a $50 and a $10 - which immediately went into your pocket, it was easier to deal with the technicalities later, it's not like this was a ‘change given’ establishment.
You pushed forward the shots and gave the older man his beer with a wink.
You snatched the megaphone, hoping onto the bar again.
“Alright ladies and gents - we’ve got a bachelor in the house tonight!” you said, immediately riling up the crowd. “Let’s get him up here!”
The crowd cheered - obviously - you were good at your job.
“Let’s give ‘em a nice sendoff huh?” you giggled with that southern drawl that patrons loved, the crowd cheered again; Alex handed you a shot and you passed it to the man; who took it with shocking speed which again, riled up the crowd.
You put the megaphone down as he climbed off the bar, screaming in his friends faces.
“‘Nother round boys?” You asked, already lining up the shot glasses again, they eagerly responded with cheers.
You gestured for Sophie to throw you the bottle - a trick you pulled off multiple times every night without fail, but tonight, it slipped from your hand and shattered on the floor.
“Damn it” you muttered - fake accent letting up - leaning down to move the glass out of the way, and cut your palm on a piece you didn't see - fuck!
“Sorry boys, one of my other pretty coworkers will have to serve yall” you said, looking for any fabric or napkin to hold against your palm.
“That looks bad, baby - you want some help?” the guy you'd been talking to all night asked, you went to speak when he hit the older man on the shoulder. “Help the pretty lady, Jack”
The man took one look at your hand and winced, “yeah, that's not good”
“Theres a first aid kit in the back” you said, hoping over the bar and grabbing the man by the arm.
When we got to the back; a dressing room type space - vanities with hollywood lights and clothing racks littered about the room - the music was muffled, but you were 80% sure it was ‘My Humps’ from the Black Eyed Peas.
“The kit should be over there” you sighed, pointing to the corner as you went to sit on the vanity.
“You feel faint at all?” he asked, collecting the first aid kit, raising a brow as he saw you sitting expectantly.
“Nope” you said, crossing your legs as he walked over.
“That's good, very good - lot of people feel faint with blood” he murmured in a way that made your stomach flutter a little.
“Always was an overachiever, darlin'" you drawled, holding out your hand to be cleaned.
He took your hand gently in his, inspecting the wound.
“Can’t see a need for stitches - but I'm not sure I can advise working the rest of the night” He murmured, as if the words were just for you.
“Come on, cowboy” you drawled, putting your hat on him, “let me ride” you whispered; ever the flirt.
“Sorry, 'darlin” he said; seemingly holding back a snigger at the use of the word “doctors orders”
You rolled your eyes, immediately regretting it when he began to clean the wound “Fuck!” you said, the accent dropping.
“Fake accent? What will they come up with next” he joked sarcastically, seemingly tickled by his own humour.
“You always this funny with patients?” you huffed, a little annoyed your flirting hadn’t worked.
“Just for you sweetheart” he murmured, completely focused on cleaning your cut - and you believed it.
“What does it say on shorts?” he asked, looking into your eyes briefly while grabbing a bandage.
“‘Kiss it cowboy’” you giggled, amused at your genius.
He hummed softly, applying the bandage.
“If you wanna swing by the hospital in 2 days so I can make sure it’s healing well” He said, looking into your eyes again, crossing his arms over his very well defined chest.
“Can’t you swing by the bar?” you asked, tilting your head slightly - him never letting up on the eye contact, “or… gimmie your number?” you asked, leaning forward slightly.
“You ever hear no? He asked jokingly.
“No” you giggled.
“Thought so” he muttered, grabbing a tissue and an eyeliner pencil - it's a dressing room it's not like you had much to write back there - and scribbled down his number.
“Any concerns about the healing process - text me” he said, holding out the tissue.
“Who am I to deny doctors orders?” you teased, playfully snatching the tissue.
“Good girl” he hummed “go home - you're not working with a hand like that” he said, finally letting go of the eye contact to pack up the first aid kit.
“Yes sir” you murmured flirtily, “go, i’ve got it” you hummed, hoping off the vanity and tidying up “not like I can work”
“You sure, Sweetheart?” he asked, looking at you carefully.
“Uh huh - bachelor party - go, have fun” you teased, the tissue with his number poking out of your back pocket with the stupid stitched phrase he couldn’t seem to stop looking at.
He visibly hesitated a little “Alright sweetheart - behave” he said heading to the door after deciding you were responsible enough to be left alone.
“Yes doctor” you muttered, waving him off - back out to the sweet embrace of country rock.
f!coyote reader visits the hospital for her checkup
pairing: jack abbot x f!coyote reader
Warnings: age gap (obviously), alcohol mentions, medical inaccuracies, nicknames, barely proofread - any missed pls let me know!!
wc: 1.3k
a/n: lowk got lost in this one idrk where it went
masterlist
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This wasn’t the ideal scenario you wished to meet the hot doctor Jack again. It was 7:30 - perfectly on time for you to get a quick check and flirt before work.
“Umm Dr Jack told me to stop by? I have a hand injury” you said to the girl at the window; a little awkward - you didn’t even know the guy's last name!
“Yeah, he mentioned a cowgirl passing through - go on in” she giggled, taking in your hat - you really regretted not bringing a bigger bag.
“Thank you” you said, walking to the door; boots clicking on the floor as you walked - drawing very much unwanted attention.
You opened the door and promptly disappeared from the people in the waiting room you're pretty sure you sent into cardiac arrest with your classic micro denim shorts with an embroidered message for anyone who fared to get that close - tonight was ‘save a horse’ on one cheek and ‘ride a cowboy’ on the other.
You were directed to a small room and told a doctor would be on the way soon - hopefully the one you’d shamelessly flirted with a few nights ago.
Jack was expecting you - it had been 3 nights since he patched you up - one day AFTER he had told you to stop by.
He had given you his number which you’d thankfully texted so he now had yours.
Then she’d left him on read. Jack Abbot didn’t know what to do in such a scenario so he just crashed after his long shift.
When he came in that evening, he made sure to tell everyone he had a patient coming for a consult - when asked for a name he blanked; that was information he forgot to acquire - shit.
“She’s coming in before work; she’s a cowgirl” he said, as casually as possible for a man like Jack Abbot. He got very sketchy looks for that - she owed him now.
“Alright cowgirl” he said, gracing the room with his presence.
“Jack” you greeted, sitting on the bed, hat on your lap, really regretting not bringing a jacket.
“It’s 68 degrees outside - you aren't cold?” he asked with a raised brow as he pulled on some gloves. “You don’t wear a jacket? Are you serious? It’s cold enough outside let alone in here” he huffed; obviously disappointed.
“Oh come on - you know how hot it is in that bar” you scoffed, holding out your hand.
“I don’t care, you’re going to freeze” he muttered, pulling over the stool and sitting in front of you.
“I’ll wear one tomorrow” you sighed as he took your hand gently.
“Good girl - Coyote Ugly won’t survive without you” he said with that damn smirk that sent a little flutter to your stomach.
“That place is my bitch” you giggled.
Jack inspected your hand, gently pressing on your palm around the now closed wound.
“Didn’t want for our next meeting to be here” he mused, “Thought we’d at least get a couple texts in”
“I’ve been busy-” you said, wincing gently as he palpated closer to your wound “ow”
“Sorry, princess” he said with a small smirk, “let me apologise - dinner?”
“I have dinner at about 3am every night” you sighed “you could come by the bar, buy me a drink” you giggled again, leaning forward slightly out of habit.
“Drinking on the job? Tut tut Miss Cowgirl” he sighed; unable to resist a smirk as he stood up - crossing his arms over his chest.
“I have 2 shots; max” you giggled, raising a brow at him.
“Can I buy you breakfast? I get off at 7” he said more gently.
“I get home at like… 4; you're going to make me trudge out of bed for a meal?” you asked playfully - obviously you would, he just can’t know that.
“I’ll pay, come on - gotta make it up to you” he said, raising a brow in a way that made it clear he knew EXACTLY what he did to you?
“...pancakes” you said, raising a playful brow in return.
“There’s a diner down the street” he said; almost a promise.
“You have my number” you giggled, standing up from the bed. “I expect a feast - dancing is very tiring” you said, putting back on your hat.
“Anything for you Cowgirl” he sighed, shaking his head fondly as he took off his gloves.
“Thank you, Jack” you murmured, now very close, practically chest to chest.
“Let me get you a jacket, you’ll catch your death out there” he hummed softly.
“I’ll get a cab” you giggled, finding his care endearing.
“No. No, please - we have clothes” he insisted.
“I can’t be late” you sighed, looking at the time on your phone - 8:07
“5 minutes at most, promise” he murmured, a hand on your upper arm “please, sweetheart”
“Ok, hurry” you whispered.
Jack patted your arm and took off in search of a jacket, or hoodie or something - pants could also be good - he didn’t enjoy the thought of anyone looking at her in those damned shorts; witty little phrases on the cheeks.
You stayed in the exam room, pacing slightly, boots clicking against the linoleum. Lil was going to kill you if you were late - for some odd reason Monday nights were really busy.
“Here - PTMC merch” he said as he came back in - throwing a jacket in your direction.
You giggled as it hit you and fell to the floor. “Jack!”
“I’ll buy you double pancakes, huh?” he chuckled, standing by the door with arms crossed.
“I am owed much more than double pancakes - but I accept” you giggled, pulling on the jacket and zipping it up. “Thank you”
“Don’t mention it” he said modestly, a smile playing on his lips.
“I best be gettin’” you joked in your fake accent; tipping your hat playfully.
“Make good money, be safe - no throwing bottles” he said almost scoldingly as you walked to the door.
“Its my party trick” you pouted playfully “ugh fine”
“Good - now git cowgirl” he teased; using a shitty accent of his own.
“Oh my god” you giggled “no more of that, please” you teased.
“You don’t like it, sweetheart?” he said, eyes crinkling at the edges.
“You know what? We’ll talk about it over pancakes” you said, patting his shoulder gently. “I seriously have to go; I'm gonna be late” you huffed, already out the door before Jack could comment again.
As you left the hospital you bundled further into the jacket - damn him for being right. You shoved your hands into the pockets and felt a piece of paper.
Please don't be something weird, Please don't be something weird, Please don't be something weird - oh!
You pulled out a piece of paper and a $20 bill “for the drink i owe you - J”
You rolled your eyes and began to walk - so you lied about getting a cab; it was a 5 block walk… if a sketchy ally was taken - but it’s fine; it’s practically still daytime.
You walked into the bar a few minutes before opening; just enough time to take off the jacket and find some stray hair ties to put your hair into pigtails.
You removed the jacket and hung it over the back of a chair in the dressing room, that's when you noticed it - small lettering right below the hospital logo: J. ABBOT.
a/n: ive really gotta figure out how to make substantial chapters - again sorry for this being a nothing burger BUT i do have an idea for the next chapter, i promise. omg i never noticed how pixilated these were im do sorry </3
spelling issues/ timestamps LALALA I CANT HEAR YOU!!
also reblogs are an authors best friend ok now im done
