thinking about neighbour reader catching jack doing his nude yoga ..!!
what a way to start your day with jack abbot
WARNINGS: SUGGESTIVE CONTENT AHEAD (MDNI) - voyeurism, naked jack abbot, technically perv!reader bc like she watches, reader fantasizes, fem!reader
A/N: aww tysm!!! <3 i looked up yoga positions for amputees for this. ur girl will always research. (& then part 2 where she sees him do it again…mutual masturbation!)
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you hadn’t lived in the apartment complex for long. you had actually only just finished unpacking all the boxes. you barely knew your neighbor either. you had briefly met him for the first time when you were moving all your boxes up a couple of weeks ago. his name was jack, he worked at a hospital on night shifts, he used to be in the army, and he was a widow. he seemed normal. a bit old but it was definitely working out well for him. you had thought he was the sexy silver fox type when you first saw him. and he seemed nice enough. you’ve bumped into each other a couple of times since the initial meeting. nothing crazy, just a quick hello and ‘how are you’. your schedules don’t usually line up.
it’s saturday. and it’s your day off. but of course you couldn’t sleep in. your body’s natural alarm clock waking you up at 6:30am. great. you groan and roll out of bed, hoping in the shower. you don’t even bother getting into clothes for the day, just get straight back into your pajamas. making yourself a coffee, you decide to sit out on your new balcony as you drink it.
it’s about half an hour later, second cup of coffee in your hand, when you hear a door slide open. you realize it’s jack next door. he must be home from his shift at the hospital. you look over for some reason, it’s not like you could see anything. well at least, you shouldn’t be able to see anything because a wall are blocking your sight. except, if you turn your body at the right angle, you can see around the half wall and into jack’s balcony. huh the landlord should really get that fixed. but then when you actually take in jack’s appearance, you’re thanking your lucky stars that the landlord never knew about this little oversight.
there he was, your 50(ish?) year old neighbor, naked. you nearly drop your mug. he was in the warrior pose, arms stretched out and legs in a lunge position. speaking of legs…he’s got a prosthetic. you wonder why he never mentioned it. well you know why, you’ve only talked to him a handful of times. it’s not exactly something you would tell your random new neighbor. you assume it’s an army injury, until you realize it’s none of you business and also, you really need to stop watching him right now.
you try to take your eyes off him, closing your eyes. but all your mind shows you is flashes of your really hot naked neighbor. toned, huge biceps, thick thighs, massive cock. you try to breathe out to ground yourself, expect it comes out all shaky.
but you can’t help yourself. you look back over and he’s changed position. wall tree pose now. you take your eyes over his body, from his calm face down to his pecks and finally down to his thighs, that bulge even more in this position. when you finally peek at his cock again, you take a longer look than before. you can’t see much, thanks to his thighs and the position he’s in. but you can tell he’s very blessed.
you don’t even realize your staring, or even that you’re drooling slightly. what you would do to have his body on yours, bending yours in positions that resemble the ones he’s doing now. or maybe that’s how he’d stand while you went down on him. sucking him off while he looked at you with those eyes.
you’re enjoying your little fantasy, that is until you hear your neighbor clear his throat and you jerk your eyes to his face. just to find he’s already looking at you, no longer in his yoga position.
“liking what you see?” he asks, smug smile attached to his face.
Description: After losing a gem of a next door neighbor, Jack worries what the new resident will be like. Instead of a young obnoxious college kid, he meets you. Instantly struck by your warm nature (and good looks but he won't admit to that), Jack finds himself drawn to you in a way he hasn't experienced in years.
Tags: reader is a chemistry grad student bc i say so, shameless self insert, fem!reader, trying to avoid too many specific descriptors on readers appearance but i am new to this, reader is shorter than jack, widower!Jack, Jack talks ab therapy, trying to do justice to the fact that Jack is an amputee, but again I am not an expert, just some fluff and feelings, eventual smut, and so mdni 18+
A/N: Thank you all for the encouragement on the first version of this! It has been really really amazing to know people enjoy my ideas and writing and absolutely wild that y'all want more. I really love this idea and have many many plans for these two. I hope to get part two written and out this week. I am thinking around 3-4 parts total, but we shall see. This is starts similar to this post, but I made some changes and expanded quite a bit. I hope you enjoy and please send me asks/dms if you have any suggestions/comments/feedback on anything! I am always open to improving and learning.
Jack has been living in the left half of a red brick duplex, unit 101A, long enough to see a handful of tenants come and go on the right side, 102A. There was a college kid whose prefrontal cortex was just underdeveloped enough for him to be nothing but a pain in Jack’s ass. Needless to say, not his favorite neighbor. Then there was a young couple who were perfectly lovely until they had to move somewhere with two bedrooms to accommodate an incoming little one (Jack had been sure to give them his number in case they ever needed a friend in the ED). Most recently an older woman, Mrs. McAlister, who had regularly brought Jack all manner of baked goods and leftovers, had moved out and into her daughter's house.
The unfortunate loss of Mrs. McAlister’s cooking meant that the right half of his duplex (and yes he thought of it as his by this point) was empty. Jack couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread creep in as he watched the last of Mrs. McAlister’s things be packed into a UHaul on Saturday afternoon. Would his new neighbor be another sweet elderly woman? Or would he get stuck with some obnoxious twenty something with no common courtesy?
Fortunately for Jack, he didn’t have to wait long to find out. Housing got snatched up fast in a city like Pittsburgh, especially housing that was halfway decent and affordable, so it was no surprise that 102A was empty for under 48 hours.
His first glimpse of the new tenant comes when Jack is arriving back home from a shift, just before 8 am on a Monday. He isn’t surprised to see a moving truck out front, nor is he surprised to see you directing the two movers on where to put furniture and boxes. He can tell you're young, in your twenties is his guess, which immediately sets his nerves on edge. Jack doesn’t think he can handle anymore house parties or loud hookups or trash left out. But you have a quiet, competent air about you that seems to indicate you aren't going to cause a ruckus. You appear to be alone, aside from the movers. He finds himself looking for evidence of a partner, husband, wife, without really meaning to. Forcing himself to not be overly nosy, Jack moves past the two men, now carrying part of a bed frame, and lets himself into 101.
After a shower and the last of Mrs. McAlister’s roast (bless that woman), Jack is dressed in grey sweats and a black t-shirt, ready for bed. Despite the sleep threatening to overcome him, he finds himself looking out his window to check in on the status of your move. Apparently you had gotten here early, because he can see you handing the movers a wad of cash and sending them on their way. Before he really knows what he’s doing, he’s grabbed his prosthetic and is hurrying to get the damn thing back on so he can step back outside. He may as well catch you as you’re heading back inside, introduce himself, make sure he doesn’t need to be concerned about having another pain in his ass next door. It is the neighborly thing to do after all, he reasons.
Another moment finds him a couple steps outside his door, clearing his throat to catch your attention from where you’re examining the front facing window of 102.
“I’m Jack. Abbot. I’m in 101. Figured I should introduce myself, welcome you to the neighborhood and all.” He outstretches his hand, wondering if a handshake is still what people do these days.
Smiling, you shake his hand firmly and give him your name, he lets out a quiet sigh of relief. It is at this moment Jack finally takes you in fully. He was right, he thinks, you must be in your mid twenties, no ring on your finger, and certainly not a pain in his ass. You stand a handful of inches shorter than him, just enough that you have to look up to make eye contact. The smile you are giving him is radiant in a way that makes his stomach feel tight. He can see you’re flushed from the exertion of carrying boxes and helping to move furniture, and your hair has begun to fall from where you had it back.
But even though you aren’t at your most put together, Jack is left feeling off balance, as he can only see you as the most raw and real kind of beautiful. The kind of beauty that comes with a bright smile, dewy skin, and pink chinks. The kind that has as much to do with physical appearance as it does a person’s character. The kind of beauty that reminds him of his late wife when they first met. Even though he is just meeting you, Jack likes to think his gut is usually right about people, and his gut is telling him that you are exactly the type of kind, caring, intelligent person that spells nothing but trouble for him.
“It’s very nice to meet you Jack! I hope the movers weren’t too much of a disturbance, it seems like a quiet little haven around here.”
“About as close to a haven as you can get in the city,” he agrees with a small smile. “And don’t mention it, you weren’t a disturbance at all.”
In the few minutes the two of you spend chatting he finds out you’re a fourth year graduate student, “A PhD in chemistry? You might just be a bigger masochist than me.” You somehow work nearly as many hours as he does, and he finds your work ethic dizzyingly attractive. You moved to the area in the hope of finding somewhere a little quieter, some place where you didn’t feel like people were packed in like sardines. You aren’t from PA, but you have a couple close friends in town and your family tries to visit often. You confirm his suspicions when you tell him you’re single and don’t have any kids or pets so there shouldn’t be any noise waking him up through the night.
“Actually, I’m an attending in the ED, usually on night shift. Sounds like you aren't home much during the day, but-”
“Don’t worry Jack, I’ll keep it down during the day too. You can always bang on the wall if I’m being to loud,”
He feels the corners of his mouth twitch up. “Thanks, sweetheart.” It slips before he can catch up to his mouth. Even though he knows he shouldn’t be giving you nicknames, and definitely not that kind, the pink that dusts your cheeks at the term of endearment is enough to make him want to call you nothing else.
“Uh- listen I’ve gotta get to bed, but let me give you my number in case you need anything. Neighbor or doctor wise,” he says, shooting you a wink.
“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you doctor.”
And god, he knows you mean it in a teasing way, but it does nothing to help the steadily growing attraction he feels towards you. He knows he is at least 15 years too old, and far too emotionally unavailable to even entertain the idea of being with you. He knows. But when you smile at him like he’s just offered to hang the moon and stars for you, he really doesn’t know what to do with himself.
It’s just his number, no harm in you having it, and certainly no reason it has to have any underlying intention behind it. That’s what he tells himself anyway.
He puts his number in your phone when you hand it to him, putting “Jack Abbot” as the name and “the guy in 101A and doctor at PTMC” in the notes for good measure. You thank him again, giving his hand a squeeze as he returns the phone. You say your goodbyes, and he retreats into his black out curtain and noise machine generated paradise. The last thing he sees before shutting his eyes is a text from an unknown number with your name, just so he can save your number too.
You are going to be a pain in his ass alright, a kind he didn’t even think to be worried about.
After your initial introduction, Jack assumes (worries) the two of you won't see much of each other. During your initial meeting, in an effort to reassure him you wouldn’t make too much noise during the day, you had inadvertently given him your schedule: 6:45 am leave for work, 7-5 ish suffer, 5:30 pm arrive home from work. With anyone else he would be glad to know that there would be no one next door to disturb his sleep, but instead he could only focus on the fact that he would rarely, if ever, run into you.
His assumption proved to be correct for the first two weeks of your time in 102A, only seeing you on occasion as he left for work. But, about halfway through week three, Jack wakes up earlier than normal. By the time 5:30 pm rolls around and he’s supposed to be on call for another 13.5 hours, he feels himself starting to get restless. It’s a nice day outside with a high of 75 and a low of 52, the sun has set enough to cast an orange glow on the city, but not enough that it’s going to be dark soon, and Jack has a rare burst of energy. His therapist has been telling him some sunshine goes a long way, and he didn’t spend all that money on the fucking sports prosethic to not use it.
By 5:42 pm Jack is in athletic shorts and a t-shirt, sports prosthetic on. He makes it about two steps out his front door, still adjusting the stupid prosthetic, when he senses he isn't alone. Straightening up, he realizes you’ve just come out of your front door as well. His gaze travels upwards from your feet as he makes his way to his full height. You’re dressed similar to himself in athletic shorts with a matching jacket, and he has to force himself to not linger on the exposed skin of your legs. When he does meet your eyes, he finds you smiling at him in a way that suggests you caught his little slip up, but are too polite to mention it.
“Hey Jack! Are you heading out for an evening run? Well- I guess it would technically be morning for you, sorry,” You laugh at yourself lightly, cheeks coloring only the slightest bit. Whether it’s from embarrassment at the slip up or something else he can’t be sure.
Either way, he gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I still consider this to be evening. I am a proud night lurker, there is no part of me that wants to be waking up before 3 pm.” A small fit of giggles overtakes you, and he feels his smile turn into something more genuine.
“But no, not much of a runner,” he gestures to his right leg where the prosthetic is on display. “I’m on call tonight and can’t do much besides hang out here, figured a walk might do me some good.”
To your credit, your expression only falters slightly when you take in his leg, quickly recovering to match his eye contact as you listen. You nod, humming warmly in agreement, still keeping your eyes locked on his. “I have to agree. I’m also not much of a runner but I try to walk after lab most days. I think it’s a great way to reset after a long day.”
“Sounds like you’re the evening walk expert then?”
“Something like that,” you joke back.
Jack knows that the conversation is winding down, it’s time for him to wish you a good walk and find a reason to hang back until you go on your way. Wait to see which direction you turn before beginning to walk in the opposite way. But Jack also knows that you’ve been looking at him with an attentiveness that, while he gives freely, is rarely if ever matched. If there were ever a sign of not wanting a conversation to end, he thinks the way you’re looking at him is surely it.
Fuck it.
“Well, I’m new to this whole walking for fun thing, maybe you could show me the best route to take?”
Your eyes brighten, “Of course! I mean, obviously I’m new to the area, but I think I’ve found a good path. It’s about 30 minutes, if that’s good with you?”
“Of course, lead the way,” he gestures forward with his hand, indicating for you to lead the way, leaning forward slightly as he does so. If you notice the way he stumbles forward slightly as his weight shifts on an unfamiliar right foot, you don’t say anything. But Jack swears he you’re biting the inside of your cheek to fight off a grin as you walk down the steps.
Fucking sports prosthetic.
The walk is… nice. Nicer than Jack expected. He can hear the birds chirping in the trees that are awkwardly implanted in the sidewalk. He can hear the sounds of the city too (sirens, honking, a plane overhead) but they’re less pronounced than normal. The two of you walk side by side as you lead him through parts of his neighborhood he’s never really taken the time to look at. You point out a café that apparently ‘makes a mean oat milk latte.’
“I hate to fulfill the old white guy stereotype, but I only drink my coffee black.” Self-deprecation as a form of self-defence, the oldest trick in the book.
“As horrifying as that information is,” you begin, closing your eyes and placing a hand on your chest, “I also can get behind a black coffee, so if you’re calling yourself old you’re gonna have to call me old too.” You smile at him and make eye contact for only a moment before breaking looking at the pavement a few feet ahead of you.
“Besides, you have got to be the sexiest ‘old guy’ I’ve ever seen so I’d be wearing that badge proudly if I were you.” You put your hands up in mock defensiveness and accentuate your point with air quotes.
He really isn’t sure what to do with himself besides laugh. Looking at you now, he could tell that even if you were uncertain, you were not the type of woman to let him get away with putting himself down. Nothing to do but admit defeat.
“I think I’ll be quite happy with that title.”
By the time the duplex is coming back into view Jack has learned that you’ve been walking everyday for years after a suggestion from a therapist. He’s learned that you “actually thought about going to medical school, but turns out biology and me don’t get along.” He’s also relearned more about chemistry than he ever hoped he would have to after asking the simple question “What does your lab research?”
He had told you his own therapist had suggested he ‘get his ass outside’ more often, and that maybe the shrink was right more often than he wanted to give the guy credit for. He also shared one of his gorrier work stories and had been impressed when you were hanging on to his every word rather than going green. More importantly, he had only let himself spend about 3 minutes total looking at the way the sunlight caught your hair, or the way it framed your face as it fell from the loose bun you had it in, or at your lips as you spoke rather than your face, or at the necklace laying against the soft place where your neck met your collar bones. Just 3 minutes, not bad at all, practically a record.
As you approach the front steps you hesitate, and he feels it too, he thinks. The uncertainty of where the two of you stand with one another. Jack knows where he stands, and he has a feeling he knows where you do too, he hadn’t been the only one with a staring problem. But even if Jack thinks he knows, he doesn’t really know.
“Thank you for sharing your route with me, I think I was right to call you the walk expert.” He shoots you a trademark Abbot smirk, trying to put a lid on whatever feelings may or may not have been simmering during the past 30 minutes.
“Anytime Jack, it was nice to have some company.” The smile you give him in return is softer, warmer than his own. For not the first time, and certainly not the last, he feels torn about how to approach you. He knows this feeling, he’s felt it before and it landed him in a world of heartbreak and pain. It was a place he’s worked hard to move on from, and thank god he can see now that while yes feelings, raw and vulnerable, can end in pain they are also what make life worth living.
He isn’t sure where the two of you stand, after all you’ve barely started to get to know each other. However, he is sure that he wants to at least give himself the chance to find out, no matter how scary or stupid a choice it might be.
“Well… maybe we could do this again sometime? I know my therapist would throw a fucking party if he got word of me not only being out in daylight but also socializing outside of work.”
“I’d love that,” you smile wider now, staring at your feet briefly and rocking back on your heels slightly before looking back up at him. “I’ll be here a little after 5:30 pretty much everyday, join me whenever you like. Okay?”
“Okay,” he feels his own expression melt into something so sickly sweet his cheeks hurt. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
WARNINGS: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD (MDNI) - voyeurism, mutual masturbation, naked jack abbot, technically perv!reader bc she watches, fem!reader
A/N: okay wait & part three where he can't take it anymore, so he knocks on reader's door & they go at it 😜 check out part one here !!
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it had been four days since your silver fox neighbor caught you drooling watching as he did naked yoga. he had called you out, and you were so embarrassed that you ran inside immediately. you were even more embarrassed to admit you had touched yourself to the memory of his naked body. you felt so ashamed, he's so much older than you and you barely knew the guy! and you haven't been back on your balcony since.
but it's a nice day and a coffee would taste better with fresh air. so, you decide to brave it, you decide to go outside and pray that jack wasn't home. you slide the door open, stepping out to the crisp morning air. you move to sit down on the same chair where you were four days ago. you try not to think about what your subconscious was telling you with that. sighing heavy, you take sip of your coffee.
“well good morning,” you hear from the other side of the wall. you jump at the voice. “i’m doing yoga by the way. just in case you wanted to watch again,” you can hear the cockiness in his voice from behind the wall.
you can’t help yourself, you try not to look but you do. you move without realizing it, shifting in your seat until you could see him.
“ah knew you couldn’t resist,” he smirks.
you can't bring yourself to answer, to give him the satisfaction. you look away, prying your eyes off his naked body and back to the view in front of you. you inhale sharply, trying to control yourself. to suppress that part of you that wants to stare at him.
you think that's the end of it. except then a grunt breaks the tense silence. a breathless little noise that echoes low and one you thought you had imagined. until it came again, unmistakably your neighbor's doing. and you can't help but look again. your eyes immediately cast downward, not that it's entirely your fault. you just follow down to where his arm is moving. you're met with the view of him fucking into the grip of his fist, and you watch the flex of his wrist and the glide of his palm. looking back up to his eyes just to find that they are already on you.
your cunt flutters at the sight. without thinking about it too hard, you put down your coffee cup, reach down and pull your pants off. you spread your legs in a way so that you’re sure jack can see your bare pussy. you’re quick to slide two fingers through your folds, gathering the wetness that had been pooling. you moan loudly, making a show out of it. you move your fingers, circling your clit in lazy motions. you finally slip a finger inside, stretching yourself out. your mouth falls open just a little, breath hitching as you feel your warmth tighten around your knuckle. your body arches instinctively. you add another finger, needing more. your fingers fuck into your pussy with a wet rhythm.
you continue to watch him as his hips shift and his abs flex. he moans, it’s quiet but you catch it. his eyes flutter as the rough hand he had wrapped around himself moves so that his thumb smears his precum over the head. his mouth goes slack, jaw flexing as his rhythm stutters and you watch as he spurts cum all in his hand. that's enough to make you let go, coming all over your fingers. you cried out, a strangled, choked sound, your body going taut and trembling.
and when you finally come down from your high and make eye contact with him, that's when you freeze. what the fuck did you just do?
EDIT: this inspired this fic, go check it out! its a better version of this!
Jack has been living in the left half of a red brick duplex, unit 101A, long enough to see a handful of tenants come and go on the right side, 102A. There was a college kid whose prefrontal cortex was just underdeveloped enough for him to be nothing but a pain in Jack’s ass. Needless to say, not his favorite neighbor. Then there was a young couple who were perfectly lovely until they had to move somewhere with two bedrooms to accommodate an incoming little one (Jack had been sure to give them his number in case they ever needed a friend in the ED). Most recently an older woman, Mrs. McAlister, who had regularly brought Jack all manner of baked goods and leftovers, had moved out and into her daughter's house.
The unfortunate loss of Mrs. McAlister’s cooking meant that the right half of his duplex (and yes he thought of it as his by this point) was empty. Jack couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread creep in as he watched the last of Mrs. McAlister’s things be packed into a UHaul on Saturday afternoon. Would his new neighbor be another Mrs. McAlister? Or would he get stuck with some obnoxious 20 something with no common courtesy?
Fortunately for Jack, he didn’t have to wait long to find out. Housing got snatched up fast in a city like Pittsburgh, especially housing that was halfway decent and affordable, so it was no surprise that 102A was empty for under 48 hours.
-
His first glimpse of the new tenant comes when Jack is arriving back home from a shift, just before 8 am on a Monday. He isn’t surprised to see a moving truck out front, nor is he surprised to see you directing the two movers on where to put furniture and boxes. He can tell you're young, in your 20s is his guess, which immediately sets his nerves on edge. Jack doesn’t think he can handle anymore house parties or loud hookups or trash left out. But you have a quiet, competent air about you that seems to indicate you aren't going to cause a ruckus. You appear to be alone, aside from the movers, and he finds himself looking for evidence of a partner, husband, wife, without really meaning to. On the walk to his front door he doesn’t see anyone else, and with the small size of the moving truck, he concludes that it must just be you moving in.
After a shower and the last of Mrs. McAlister’s roast (bless that woman), Jack is dressed in grey sweats and a black t-shirt, ready for bed. Despite the sleep threatening to overcome him, he finds himself looking out his window to check in on the status of your move. Apparently you had gotten here early, because he can see you handing the movers a wad of cash and sending them on their way. He may as well catch you as you’re heading back inside, introduce himself, make sure he doesn’t need to be concerned about having another pain in his ass next door. It is the neighborly thing to do after all.
“I’m Jack. Abbott. I’m in 101. Figured I should introduce myself, welcome you to the neighborhood and all.” He outstretches his hand, wondering if a handshake is still what people do these days.
Smiling, you shake his hand firmly and give him your name, he let’s out a quiet sigh of relief. It is at this moment Jack finally takes you in fully. He was right, he thinks, you must be in your mid 20s, no ring on your finger, and certainly not a pain in his ass. You stand a handful of inches shorter than him, just enough that you have to look up to make eye contact. The smile you are giving him is radiant in a way that makes his stomach feel tight. He can see you’re flushed from the exertion of carrying boxes and helping to move furniture, and your hair has begun to fall from where you had it back. But even though you aren’t at your most put together, Jack can only see you as the most raw and real kind of beautiful. The kind of beauty that comes with a bright smile, dewy skin, and pink chinks. The kind that has as much to do with physical appearance as it does a person’s character. The kind of beauty that reminds him of his late wife when they first met. Even though he is just meeting you, Jack likes to think his gut is usually right about people, and his gut is telling him that you are exactly the type of kind, caring, intelligent person that spells nothing but trouble for him.
“It’s very nice to meet you Jack! I hope the movers weren’t too much of a disturbance, it seems like a quiet little haven around here.”
“About as close to a haven as you can get in the city,” he agrees with a small smile. “Don’t mention it, you weren’t a disturbance at all.”
-
He finds out you’re a fourth year graduate student, “A PhD in chemistry? You might just be a bigger masochist than me.” You somehow work nearly as many hours as he does, and he finds your work ethic dizzyingly attractive. You moved to the area in the hope of finding somewhere a little quieter, some place where you didn’t feel like people were packed in like sardines. You aren’t from PA, but you have a couple close friends in town. You confirm his suspicions when you tell him you’re single and don’t have any kids or pets so there shouldn’t be any noise waking him up.
“I’m an attending in the ED, usually on night shift. Sounds like you aren't home much during the day, but-”
“Don’t worry Jack, I’ll keep it down during the day too. You can always bang on the wall if I’m being to loud,”
He feels the corners of his mouth twitch up. “Thanks, sweetheart.” Even though he knows he shouldn’t be giving you nicknames, and definitely not that kind.
“I’ve gotta get to bed, but let me give you my number in case you need anything, neighbor or doctor wise.”
“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you doctor.”
And god, he knows you mean it in a teasing way, but it does nothing to help the steadily growing attraction he feels towards you. He knows he is at least 15 years too old, and far too emotionally unavailable to even entertain the idea of being with you. He knows. But when you smile at him like he’s just offered to hang the moon and stars for you, he really doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s just his number, not harm in you having it, and certainly no reason it has to have any underlying intention behind it.
He puts his number in your phone when you hand it to him, putting “Jack Abbott” as the name and “the guy in 101A and doctor at PTMC” in the notes for good measure. You thank him again, giving his hand a squeeze as he returns the phone. You say your goodbyes, and he retreats into his black out curtain and noise machine fueled paradise. The last thing he sees before shutting his eyes is a text from an unknown number with your name, just so he can save your number too.
You are going to be trouble alright, a kind he didn’t even think to be worried about.
A/N: this is an idea that has been brewing for a few days but I didn't want to write anything for Jack until I had finished the show. completely and totally self indulgent as a chem grad student, bc no one writes about us stem girlies stuck in research labs having no fun. I have some ideas on how to turn this into something more formal with a couple parts, but idk. wrote this super fast and didn't really look over it and I am half asleep but I needed to get it down. if there is any interest I may do a more complete version or a pt 2 (might do it regardless bc I have a problem w/ this man). any thoughts/ideas/feedback are always welcome! it has been so so long since I have written for fun and not for school/work so I feel way out of my depth, but it makes me happy so I’m trying to just go for it.
