18+. content warnings: oral sex (f rec), cheating, manipulation kinda, medical setting, praise, implied cucking(?)
you're a little stressed after spending the night with your boyfriend. he simply could not get you wet, even though he tried soooo hard... so you head to your physician, dr jack abbot.
jack listens with restrained satisfaction at the desperate note in your voice, at that hint of concern, like you're worried that something is wrong. he wants so badly to tell you that your boyfriend is just fucking useless, that it's nothing to worry about, that you're being a good girl…
but first, he wants to be sure. "let me see, honey."
he lays you out on the exam table, then his hand withdraws from your trembling thighs, moving down to grip the back of your knee. "spread a little more for me. i wanna check something."
you watch as he pushes his stool forward, his head and shoulders lowering between your legs. he hooks your legs over his shoulders, positioning himself closer to your pussy, his gaze roaming over your skin.
he presses a warm peck to your inner thigh. "there," he murmurs. "let me take care of you, honey. do you trust me?"
"yes," you reply, and you barely have time to exhale before he's pressing a feather-light kiss to your clit, making you gasp. "doctor abbot?"
his chuckle vibrates against your skin as he lifts his head just enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze. "just making sure everything's working right," he mutters, the clinical distance in his tone at odds to the way his tongue flicks over your clit in a quick, teasing stroke.
his hands slide up to grip your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft skin there. "relax," he orders, lips brushing your inner thigh again. "let me show you what your boyfriend should've been doing."
then he lowers his mouth to your cunt properly and licks a hot, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit. "what– what's this test for?" you breathe out, your chest heaving with arousal.
his mouth moves against you, tongue taking broad, languid laps. "it's called the clitoral glans test," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "to see how responsive you are. and you're being a very, very good girl, i must say."
it's not long before you're leaking all over his tongue, your slick pooling onto the paper sheets. "sweet girl," he praises. "taking my mouth so well. your boyfriend ever do this to you?"
you exhale shakily, the shame gnawing at you again as you shake your head. "no... he... he said he doesn't like doing it..."
his tongue swipes over your hole again, almost thoughtfully lapping up your juices, the ones that spilled out of you just for him. "he doesn't like it, huh? well, he's an idiot, honey, because you taste incredible."
"t-thank you," you stutter out at the praise, your hips bucking up against his mouth. "ah- sorry-"
"no apologising, sweetheart," he says, his breath hot against your folds, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin for reassurance. "i like your desperate little movements. keep going, honeygirl. let me see just how responsive you are." then his tongue is back between your legs, stroking slow, up and down, as he gauges your reactions.
"and don't you worry, honey," he says conversationally between licks, as if he wasn't making a mess of your pretty little cunt, "you make another appointment, i will be teaching your boyfriend how to eat your pussy very thoroughly, no matter how much he says he doesn't like it. cunt like this deserves to get eaten."
he hums, low and thoughtful. "maybe i'll even make him take notes. have him write up a full report on the experience."
summary: jack abbot is not your friend when you first start at the ptmc. he doesn't like you, and he makes it known. or so you thought. then, after a difficult shift, he apologises and everything changes. you become inseparable, and slowly, over smoke breaks and post-shift hangouts, he becomes your best friend - but you are in love with him. when a pact to quit cigarettes leads to jack suggesting an alternative stress relief technique, an arrangement is made: no strings. no feelings. just fun.
can either of you stick to the rules, or will it all come crashing down?
tags: considerable age gap (reader is 22 when she meets jack, he is 48, but they won't do anything until she's 26 and he's 52), nurse!reader, time jumps, widower jack, sexual tension, fwb, slow burn, some angst, enemies to friends to lovers, miscommunication trope (sorry), dual pov, lowkey perv!jack abbot, perv!reader kinda eventually, stalker!jack if you squint, jack is an asshole because he's in love with you lol, eventual smut (not in this chapter though), cigarettes, alcohol, probable medical inaccuracies, not proof read, 18+ only mdni
a/n: ITS HERE GUYS!! i thought i would have had this first part out like two weeks ago but, you know, life is a bitch. ANYWAY, i really hope you all enjoy this! it's my FIRST EVER fic so i'm open to any and all critique and feedback! if ya'll like it i'll upload the next part in a few days! enjoyyyyy!!! p.s i fucking adore shawn hatosy ugh
soundtrack for this series: coming soon
parts 2-5: coming soon
word count: 11.2k
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You hadn't signed up to be Jack Abbot's punching bag when you'd first started working at the PTMC, but that is certainly what you ended up being.
He was arrogant, unyielding, and a complete nightmare to work under. You hated him. You hated the sound of his voice, you hated his smug attitude, and most of all, you hated the fact that you wanted him so badly. It was infuriating. He spent every shift tearing into you, making good shifts bad, and bad shifts worse, yet every time he stepped into your personal space, your body completely betrayed you. Your heart hammering not just from anger, but from a desperate, chemical need for him that you couldn't switch off.
He had decided he didn't like you from the second he met you on your first shift, and it had only gotten worse since then. Now, rarely a day went by where he didn't pull you aside and absolutely tear into you for something. Anything.
You were too slow with patients, or your notes weren't clear, or you didn't give him lab results quick enough, or you weren't triaging adequately.
It was something new every single shift you worked together. At first, you had accepted it as criticism, feedback even. You were new after all, and you thought that maybe he was just pushing you to be better. So, you took all of his complaints on board, fixed them, changed the way you worked. It pained you to admit it, but it had made you a better nurse. He didn't seem to care, or notice.
It simply did not matter how good you got, he would always find something new to critique.
You weren't his resident, you were a nurse. It really was not his business, and he should have gone to Lena with any issues he had with your work. He didn't though. He always came right to you, scolding you like a misbehaving child in front of the entire department.
You never provoked him, but when he started his shit, you always fought back. You had never been one to back down from anything, so it almost always ended in a borderline screaming match in the break room, until someone interrupted or separated you.
They were toxic, ugly encounters, yet a dark part of you found yourself secretly starving for them. He looked at you with an intensity that made your skin burn. Spoke to you with such fierce passion and it set your body alight.
His harsh critiques had stopped getting to you pretty much as soon as they started. You'd dealt with egotistical, god-complex afflicted doctors before, so this wasn't particularly surprising, but it was weird. He wasn't like this with anyone else. Didn't nitpick anyone else's work, didn't critique the other nurses or even his residents like he did to you.
You often thought back to the first time you met him, racking your brain for something you could have said or done that had made him hate you so much, but every time you came up completely blank.
He just didn't like you.
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TWO YEARS AGO
It had been your first shift as a fully registered nurse, and your whole body was buzzing and shaking with anxiety and excitement when you entered. You were sure you could feel your blood pumping around your body with every thumping heartbeat. Dana had welcomed you immediately, introduced you to Lena and handed you over to her for the night, before grabbing her things and heading out.
You were pretty happy to be placed on nights, so when it was offered to you after your interview, you said yes immediately. Daytime had never been your thing, and your sleep schedule was already utterly fucked, so why not? Night shift was usually more fun anyway.
Lena introduced you to everyone she could, and they'd all been so kind and welcoming. You could feel the nerves in your stomach slowly fading out and into something more comfortable as you shadowed Lena. That is, until you met him.
He'd been stuck in traumas for the first few hours of your shift, and so you hadn't yet met him, but you had definitely heard about him. Several nurses and residents gushed over how hot he was in hushed voices at the nurses' station, people commended his work and clinical precision after wrapping up a case with him. How calm and composed he was, even in the chaos of the ER. Even Lena had been singing his praises, and when she heard about your time in school and how hard you had worked, she was convinced that you and Dr. Abbot were going to be fast friends.
"Oh my God, Jack is going to love you! You're just like him," she'd giggled, pulling your focus back to the conversation at hand and away from your thoughts.
You cleared your throat. "He sounds nice."
She nodded. "He is."
You could not have been more wrong.
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"Ah, finally!" Lena exclaimed. You had been shadowing her for your first shift, familiarising yourself with the layout and the people. Changing dressings, hanging and pushing IVs. You had even been assigned to triage with Mateo for a few hours, and you'd had a great time doing it. Now, you were back with Lena at the nurses' station, as she typed away on the computer and showed you how to work the system.
"Jack, this is our new nurse! Freshly graduated, did most of her rotations at Presby. She'll be on the night shift with us. She's incredible." She turned to you, smiled and gestured for you to get up and say hello.
Lena's words pulled your eyes from the screen, and you readied yourself to meet the man with the so-called flawless reputation.
Immediately your breath caught in your throat.
Fuck.
You could feel yourself blushing, heat creeping up your neck and face. He was gorgeous. His hair was messy, the salt and pepper curls wild on his head, yet flattened slightly from where you assumed he'd been running his hands through it. A rough layer of mostly grey stubble covered the lower half of his face, and you couldn't help but imagine running your hand over it.
His eyes were crinkled at the corners. Crows' feet. There were freckles too, scattered across his face, neck and arms. Jesus, his arms. Age looked really fucking good on him.
He stood with his arms crossed on the other side of the nursing station counter, his dark eyes bearing into your own. Your heartbeat had suddenly started thundering in your chest, beating against your ribcage so violently that you felt a little dizzy. He held your gaze for a second or two, and nodded slightly.
"Hi, Dr. Abbot! It's nice to meet you!" Somehow, you had managed to speak and form the words, but your voice still sounded a little wobbly. You took a deep, grounding breath.
"I'm really excited to be working here. I've heard great things about you all day!" You had tried to sound normal and steady, but the words had come out awkward and stunted instead. You offered your hand as you told him your name, a polite smile plastered on your face.
He didn't take your hand. For a split second, he didn't even move. His dark eyes fixed on yours with a sudden, sharp intensity that made the air in the room feel instantly heavy. You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling very intimidated, and retracted your hand.
He looked you up and down slowly before responding, and it made every hair on your body stand on end. Suddenly, you were very insecure about how you had styled yourself.
Something flashed across his face as he met your eyes again, but it was so fast that you couldn't quite pinpoint it, though you could see his jaw clenching and flexing. He stood there for a moment, and the silence stretched out for just a second too long.
"Right. Yeah, nice to meet you too," he replied curtly. His voice was flat and the words came out clipped and dismissive. He said nothing more to you after that. Instead, he turned his shoulder to you, and faced Lena again.
"Lena, can you check on the status of the labs for our patient in North 5?" His tone had shifted now, very clinical.
"Yeah Jack, sure. But I-" He cut her off.
"I don't have time for introductions tonight, Lena. Let me know when you get those labs back." He said sharply, as he grabbed an iPad from the rack on the counter and turned to walk away.
"Oh, and let's keep the new hires away from critical traumas for the first few days. We're already short-staffed. I can't have anyone slowing us down."
And then he was gone. Walking swiftly towards the north cubicles, tapping at the iPad as he went.
You blinked, stunned.
Wow. What an asshole.
You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding, and noticed your hands were gripping onto the counter and your knuckles were white. Lena turned to you immediately, and started apologising for him.
"I'm sorry about that. He's not usually like that, I promise. It's been a rough shift for him." She shot you a small smile, and you nodded, shrugged, and smiled back.
"Okay, then!" She suddenly said, rubbing her hands together.
"You've met pretty much everyone now, and you know how everything works. Do you want to go back and assist Mateo in triage for a while? I'll get caught up in here."
You were standing up and grabbing your water bottle before she had even finished her sentence.
Yes, please.
Mateo had been so kind and helpful, but honestly you would have taken any opportunity to get away from this very awkward and slightly infuriating situation.
"Yeah, of course! Thank you, Lena."
The rest of the shift flew by, and you thankfully hadn't run into Dr. Abbot again. Thank God. You and Mateo, though, clicked instantly. You fell into step together so easily, and quickly progressed to light banter and teasing each other. He was great - kind, and patient, maybe even a little flirty. You tried your best to flirt back, but your mind kept flitting back to Dr. Abbot.
Mateo was undeniably cute, but you were entirely preoccupied by Dr. Abbot's cold dismissal of you. How could everyone have been so wrong about him? All day you had heard about how kind he was, how calm and attentive he was. The man you met earlier was the complete opposite of all of those things. Why had he been so rude to you?
You remembered hoping that maybe he'd be in a better mood the next day, and you guys could start fresh. Lena had thought so after all, and she'd been working with him for years. They couldn't all have been wrong about him.
They were.
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TWO WEEKS AGO
"Oh fuck off, Abbot. I'm busy, go and scream at someone else for a change!"
You scoffed at him and rolled your eyes. The ER beeped and buzzed around you as you wove through the crowd, on a mission for a much-needed coffee refill. Abbot was following closely behind you as he berated you. This time, you had apparently taken too long with another patient. Again. This was his favourite critique of you; at least once a day, he brought this up.
"We have three incoming traumas, ETA fifteen goddamn minutes and you're sitting on your ass listening to this guy's life story? Come on, Flash. Do better. We don't have time for you to sit down and gossip!"
Flash. You hated that he called you that. It was supposed to be ironic, because he thinks you're too slow at everything. You didn't find it funny. At all. It made your fucking blood boil, and you clenched your fists. God, you could have punched him.
He closed the door behind him as soon as you both stepped into the break room. You headed towards the coffee machine instantly, and almost screamed when you saw it was completely empty.
"I wasn't fucking gossiping, Abbot. He was scared. I already helped prep the trauma bays as soon as we got the call. I was checking his vitals while we waited." You finally snapped back, as you rummaged through the cupboards, slamming the doors shut when you didn't find the bag of coffee. No coffee. No caffeine. Great.
You were trying so fucking hard to stay calm, but Jack had already been riding you about your pace today. You were sick of it. Sick of him. That patient was scared, and it was your job to care for them. Not just physically. He seemed to have forgotten that.
You'd been working on a patient in South 12. Dislocated shoulder and some pretty gnarly road rash from a cycling accident. Thankfully, nothing life threatening. But the guy had been terrified, was almost hit by a passing car as he fell off of his bike. He was trembling and shaking when you had gone in to check his vitals.
So, you had sat down with him, tried to talk him down. After a few minutes -five at the most- he had calmed down and started to relax. You were just preparing to leave and see a different patient when Abbot walked in and all but pulled you out by the collar.
"It doesn't fucking matter, Flash. You need to be faster. End of story." He barked. "It's not good enough."
"Oh fuck you, Abbot. I've been doing this for two years now, I know what I'm doing."
You threw your empty thermos into the sink with a loud clatter, and rubbed your temples in frustration.
"And in those two years, not a single shift has gone by where you're not on my ass about something. What is your fucking problem?" You snapped at him, your voice a little high pitched and rising in volume with every word.
Why did he do this? It was like he did it on purpose, just to see how far he could push you.
He leaned against the closed door, crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.
"You can do better. You can be faster. So, do it, and be it." He snapped, but he smirked as he said it, and the sheer smugness of it made you want to slap him.
You stormed towards him, nostrils flaring and cheeks red with with rage.
"You're an asshole, Abbot. Let me out. Now." Your skin felt like it was on fire, anger and something else simmering under the surface.
He stayed perfectly still, barely even blinked. It took all your resolve not to punch him in the jaw and make him move.
"Move Jack-ass. Now, or I swear to God I will hit you." You spat at him. The threat had felt empty in your head before you said it, and it sounded feeble from your lips.
Abbot just smirked, and his eyes flashed with... something. How could you still not read him after two years of this shit?
He just stared at you for a moment too long, eyes raking over your form. He looked at you with an intensity that made your skin burn and prickle. It sparked a reckless and intrusive thought in your mind.
You wanted to just step into him and shut him up with a kiss. You wanted to know if he tasted as bitter as the words he spoke.
Why did he still affect you like this? You hated him. He was rude and cruel and incredibly frustrating. Yet still, when he looked at you like he sometimes did, eyes hooded and jaw clenched, your heart fluttered and your stomach flipped and you wished the ground would just swallow you whole.
He finally stepped away from the door and opened his mouth to speak, but you'd already walked out. You yanked the door open with such force it damn near hit him in the shoulder, but you didn't care. You stalked towards the ambulance bay for a well deserved smoke break, and you didn't look back.
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As soon as the cold night air hit you, you breathed out a deep sigh of relief, and reached immediately for your pack of cigarettes. You lit one, sat down on the cold concrete, and inhaled. The relief came almost immediately, and your shoulders loosened.
Your head pounded, your heart raced, and rage bubbled underneath your skin as you thought back to the fight, shoulders tensed up again just at the thought, and you rubbed your eyes with the heels of your hands, as if to scrub the memory and stress away.
The thought that this wouldn't be the last fight with him passed fleetingly in your head, and it made you want to curl up in a ball on the concrete and never move. You were so fucking tired of this. Of him.
God, he drove you crazy, and the worst part is that he knows it. You'd always been like this - feisty, never willing to back down from a fight - and Abbot knew just what buttons to press to get you there. It sometimes felt like he did it on purpose.
Still, two years after that first shift, that awful first meeting, he still hated you. You'd tried to talk to him about it on several occasions, but he simply was not interested. Even when HR threatened to get involved and resolve it one way or another, he still hadn't been interested in having a working relationship with you.
Every conversation you had tried to initiate with him, he just tuned you out and dismissed the matter. He wouldn't talk to you, wouldn't try to resolve whatever issue he had with you. The only thing he did was berate and critique you, or stare at you with dark, unreadable eyes from across the ER.
He didn't even try. You supposed that's what pissed you off most.
You took another drag. Longer this time, letting the smoke fill your lungs and quell the rage before you exhaled.
"Rough shift?" Javadi. Your brain settled purely at the sound of her voice.
Her voice cut through the quiet dark of the ambulance bay as she walked toward you. You knew the voice immediately, almost as well as you knew your own. It startled you slightly. You hadn't even noticed she was out here, but a small smile crept over your face at her voice. Familiar. Safe. Calm.
Javadi had been one of the people you instantly connected with, alongside Mateo and Emma. You were all similar in age, and in an environment like The Pitt, where everyone seemed to know exactly what they were doing, and had years of experience on you, you all found comfort in each other.
The four of you had become quite the quartet, and you found yourself always with at least one of them. Even on your days off, you all gravitated towards each other for drinks or an excuse to vent. Before long, you and Mateo convinced Javadi and Emma to switch to nights, and you had been inseparable ever since. Emma even moved into your apartment when you needed a new roommate, and that had been the thing that really brought you all together.
You scoffed jokingly. "Isn't it always a rough shift?"
Smoke billowed from your lips as you spoke, and you watched it evaporate into the night air, wishing you could do the same thing. Javadi sat down next you and leaned against the cold brick wall. She brought her knees to her chest, and leaned her chin on them.
"Jack again? Jesus."
Her eyes widened and she sighed. She brought her purple vape to her mouth and inhaled slowly, shaking her head in disbelief.
"It's always him. He should just retire already - he's pretty much pensioner age anyway," you joked. A feeble attempt to lighten the mood.
Javadi didn't laugh; she just smiled softly and apologetically at you.
Pity. Ugh.
"Don't feel bad for me, Vic. I'm used to it now. It stopped getting to me a long time ago." You leaned your head back against the wall, and crossed your legs. Free hand pinching the bridge of your nose as you squeezed your eyes shut.
Javadi didn't say anything, but she tilted her head and looked at you expectantly. You should've known, can't get anything past that girl.
"Ugh. Fine. I'm thinking about leaving. Is that what you wanted to hear, Vic?" You snapped, and you regretted it immediately. Javadi didn't flinch, just gave you a small nod and gestured for you to carry on.
"Sorry. It's just- I can't work like this anymore. He makes it unbearable for me. I'm exhausted and when I think about coming into work... I just- I can't do it anymore." The words came spilling out of your mouth all at once, and they tasted like acid on your tongue.
Javadi shook her head.
"No. You can't leave. That gives him power, and more power is the last thing Jack Abbot needs. You can't just let him win. Everyone else here loves you. I love you. Just- don't rush into anything okay?"
Her eyes were wide and pleading, and you truly understood her point of view, but you were at your breaking point.
"I know. I get it, I do, and I want to stay but it's- it's too much. If he wasn't here, I'd never leave. But he is, so I think I have to."
"No. You're not leaving. You can't just leave." Javadi's' tone was stern and unwavering, but you could see the panic in the furrow of her eyebrows.
"Vic." You interjected. "It's only getting worse. HR are eventually going to step in and fire one of us if we can't start working together. And when they do, it's not going to be him. I'm just a nurse, and he's.... Well, him."
The reality of the situation had dawned on you months prior, and you'd given it a lot of thought since then. They wouldn't fire him if it came to it. It was going to be you. You'd prayed that it would get better, that eventually he'd come around, but he hadn't. A termination this early into your career? No. You'd worked too hard for this, and he wasn't going to ruin it for you.
Javadi sighed deeply, scoffed and then shook her head in disbelief.
"He's such a fucking asshole." She spat, and you could see the anger in her eyes. "We have to do something."
"Vic, there's nothing to do. This is the solution, honey. I'll be fine. You'll be fine. We'll still hang out all the time. I'm not leaving today, I haven't even talked to Lena yet. I'm not going anywhere for now." You giggled a little, and nudged her with your elbow.
"I just think it's the best option. I don't want either of us to lose our jobs. I might hate him, but he's a damn good doctor, and he's a good attending to you all."
She didn't really respond, but you heard her take a deep breath and sit up a little straighter.
"Okay, let's talk about something else. Please?" You pulled out your best impression of puppy dog eyes, and pouted your bottom lip dramatically for good measure.
Victoria belly laughed in response, and leaned into you. You stayed that way for a few seconds, just leaning into each other and enjoying the quiet.
She hit her vape again, stretched her legs out, and a quiet yawn escaped from her mouth before she spoke.
"I don't want to go home today. Was thinking about working a double. My mom is driving me crazy. Ugh."
She groaned, and leaned her head against your shoulder. You could see the worry and stress in her face when you looked down at her, how her forehead wrinkled and her brows furrowed at just the mention of her mom. Yeah. Dr. Shamsi was... A lot.
"Stay with me and Emma for a bit. We have enough space. You can sleep on the sofa bed, or in my bed if you want? I'm sure Emma won't mind."
The offer had rolled off of your tongue before you could even think it through. Vic had stayed with you and Emma plenty of times, but never for more than a night or two. You wanted to tell her that the offer was as much for you as it was for her. I could really use the company, you wanted to say, but you didn't.
"Really?" Javadi's face lit up, and you could see as the relief washed over her. "Thank you so much!"
"Of course. You can stay for as long as you want." You grinned at her, and warmth bloomed in your chest.
Maybe with Javadi around more often, you'd have less time to spend thinking about him.
Both of you pushed yourselves to your feet, and smoothed out your scrubs, wiping away any debris from the ground.
She pulled you into tight hug and thanked you over and over. "Let me go, Vic! I'll burn you." You giggled, holding the cigarette as far away from her as possible. She let go, and thanked you one more time.
"Perfect. Maybe with all this extra time together, I'll be able to convince you to stay!" She said with a wink, and then she was gone. Typical.
A few more drags of your cigarette later, you stubbed it out and turned to head inside. You popped a mint into your mouth and walked towards the doors, breathing deeply as you went, preparing yourself for whatever lay ahead.
Suddenly, Mateo came bursting through them, scaring the hell out of you and stopping you in your tracks in the process.
"Mateo? What's wrong?"
He looked worried, and his hair was wild, his slightly frizzy curls fluttering a little in the night breeze.
"Nothing. You okay?" He asked, as he dropped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you towards his side. He looked so exhausted, but then again, you all did.
"I heard you and Jack in the break room, figured you'd be out here. Everything okay?" He continued.
His arm stayed around your shoulder as he guided you back into the ER. The familiar sound of chaos and yelling and beeping filled your ears, and a strange comfort settled in your chest.
"Yeah. All good, Teo. Just the usual." You leant into his arm a little, and you could feel that he was tense. He was always so warm.
You knew why he was tense. He hated how Abbot treated you, and he had told him as much more than once. Abbot hadn't seemed to care at all. Guilt seeped into your bones as Mateo's arm tightened around your shoulder. You hated lying to him. He was, arguably, your closest friend, and he had been since your first day here.
Mateo sighed, and stopped walking, so you did too. He pulled you into a full hug, and just held you there for a few seconds, swaying side to side slightly as he did. His cheek rested on the crown of your head, and you all but melted into it, wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed him tight. You never wanted to let go.
"You're gonna squeeze me to death, kid." Mateo muttered, before pulling away.
"Good thing we're in an ER then, huh?" You retorted, and Mateo just laughed softly. "And stop with the 'kid' thing, please. I am literally a year older than you, Teo!"
"Never, kid." He said with a wink and a nudge of your shoulder. You just rolled your eyes and pushed him away from you a little.
"Right." Mateo exclaimed, and he rubbed his hands together. "ETA three minutes now. Let's go, kid."
"Ughhhhhh. Fine." You groaned. Exhaustion bled into every fibre of your body, but you had a job to do, so you smoothed out your scrubs, took a deep breath, and walked with Mateo to the nurses' station.
You leaned your elbows on the counter as Lena told you where she wanted you for the incoming traumas. You listened, nodded along, and sanitised your hands when she waved you off. With one more deep breath for the road, you set off to grab a pair of gloves and prepare.
From the corner of your eye, you could see and feel Abbot watching you. His gaze felt like it bore holes into your skin, and you shivered a little. When you turned to get a real look at him, his eyes were flicking between you and Mateo, who was still standing at the nurses' station. He looked.... Mad.
It caused anxiety or something similar to twist in your stomach, and your skin felt prickly all over. You shook it off, and headed towards the bay doors to be ready.
Abbot watched you intensely the entire time. You could feel it. His eyes didn't leave you once. You held the eye contact for a second, before you turned away from him.
Jesus. He really did not like you. Probably thought you and Mateo were so unprofessional for hugging in the middle of his department. You couldn't contain the eye roll that came. He'd probably call you out on it later.
What an asshole.
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JACK
Jack Abbot has pretty much been in love with you for as long as he's known you.
Since that very first - very awkward - introduction, he'd been completely and utterly consumed by you.
You invaded almost all of his thoughts, and it drove him crazy. He couldn't think straight around you, became another man entirely. He became a man who followed you around the ER without even realising he was doing it, a man who tracked your every move and whose eyes always found you, regardless of how busy he was.
It had only gotten worse with every passing shift together. At first, he'd put it down to an inconvenient and very inappropriate crush, but it became clear quite quickly that that was not the case. He needed you like he needed oxygen, and it fucking terrified him.
He hadn't meant to be so... Cruel. He didn't want you to hate him. That was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to mean something to you, but that was far too humiliating of a truth to admit, so he had done everything he could to drive you away from him. He told himself that it was to protect you. To protect himself. He was far too old for you, too damaged.
It started with small comments on your work, something to make you avoid him in the hallways so that he wouldn't have to see you. Out of sight, out of mind, right?
Wrong.
It had backfired almost immediately. You took all of his comments on board, tried to be better, as if you weren't already good enough. He knew you were, but he'd needed to do something to keep you at arms length.
He knew he couldn't be your friend because he wouldn't be able to stay in that box. Being near you was far too dangerous. No, he had to push you away. Far, far away.
Then, when you had started avoiding him, it wasn't long before Jack realised that he actually thought about you more when you weren't around.
It was torture. Sisyphean in nature. It felt like he was being punished for wanting you, as if the gods had decided you would be the fruit trees to his Tantalus. Ever hungry for you, but never able to bring the fruit to his lips and eat.
So, he'd done the next best thing. Levelled up the critique, started pushing you more and more, just so he could pull you aside, away from the chaos, and be close to you. He couldn't let you see how deeply you owned him, but he still craved your presence. Your scent. Your everything.
He hadn't expected you to start pushing back with such confidence and ferocity, but he came to love it. Need it, even. He loved that you were sure enough of yourself to defend your work. Soon, it had become the routine, and though it wasn't exactly what he'd planned, he still got what he wanted.
He got to keep you far away enough that you couldn't read him, but close enough that his craving to be around you was (sort of) satiated. It was safe enough of an excuse to pull you into quiet rooms or hallways, away from everyone so that he could see you. Smell you. Feel your presence.
Even though it almost always ended in a shouting match that he never planned, he admired your passion. It brought out his own, something he thought he'd lost long ago.
He thought back to the first time he met you every single day. Regretted every single word he had said to you. The words had tasted like ash in his mouth back then, and the memory of them only got more bitter with each passing year.
You had been nervous and pleasant and kind, and so achingly beautiful that it made him nauseous. And Jack? He'd been rude and dismissive and, well, a dick. It had been the beginning of the end for him, and by the end of your first shift, Jack knew one thing with certainty.
He was in love with you.
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TWO YEARS AGO
The memory of the first time Jack Abbot met you was burned into his memory like a brand.
It had been a long fucking night already, and Jack had only clocked in a few hours ago. He was fucking exhausted, and every muscle and bone in his body ached. His prosthetic rubbed into his leg, and he could practically feel the blisters forming.
Fuck.
Sometimes he hated this job. Couldn't understand why he kept coming back, even when every sane part of his brain told him to run and never look back. But he did. After every vacation and sick day and gruelling, life-altering shift, he came back.
There was probably something wrong with him.
It had just been one of those nights. Trauma after trauma after trauma. He hadn't so much as looked at his now cold cup of coffee since he clocked in. He'd walked through the doors and immediately been swamped.
Incoming trauma, ETA 5 minutes. Abbot, I need an assist here. Hey, I need an attending in Trauma 2. Hey doc, can I present to you?
It was non-stop. He'd barely had time to catch his breath between cases, and it was starting to wear him down. He needed a break. And caffeine. And a cigarette. He'd finally been on his way to the break room for some much-needed zen when he was pulled aside. Again.
"Abbot! Wait up, man!"
Classic. Jack grimaced and ran a heavy hand over his face before he turned around. He was too tired to hide the frustration in his face and voice.
"What is it, Shen?" He asked, his tired eyes meeting Shen's bright, hopeful ones.
Still, after years of working alongside the guy, he could not understand how he always had so much energy and patience. It seemed to be endless, and it pissed Jack off immensely. Whatever Shen was on, Jack needed some. Stat.
"Dude, relax." Shen said as he rolled his eyes and took a loud, unbothered sip out of his Dunkin' cup.
"Did you meet the new nurse? She's night shift, started today." Shen nodded as he looked vaguely around the ED.
New nurse? Jack couldn't recall ever hearing about a new nurse starting in the ED today. Probably missed some stupid automated email from HR while he drowned in charts and paperwork.
"Nice." He muttered, but he wasn't really listening. He was too focused on getting to the break room to sit down and inhale as much caffeine as possible before someone inevitably asked for him again.
"Yeah. Nice." Shen replied sarcastically as he snapped his fingers in front of Jack's face. "Dude. Are you even listening?"
"Not really. Sorry. Long night." He managed to force a small, apologetic smile in Shen's general direction.
"She's pretty cool. I think you're gonna like her." Shen continued, completely unfazed. "She came in and like, got right into it, you know? She's like a mini you. Way prettier though." Shen shot him a wink, and Jack huffed out a small, tired laugh.
"God, I hope not. More me is the last thing we need in this place."
Shen laughed. "Ha! Damn right, Grandpa."
Jack rolled his eyes, dismissed Shen with a flick of his wrist, and turned back toward the central hub so he could make his way to the break room. Tranquility called to him, just within his grasp.
He was merely fifteen feet away from a pot of coffee and a seat when Lena's far too cheery voice cut through the chaos of the ER.
"Ah, finally!"
That was it. Jack was going to scream and rip his hair out.
He gathered himself before turning toward Lena at the nurses' station, and barely managed to force the scowl off his face.
"Yeah?" He sighed out, and Lena ushered him over. Jack was utterly defeated. His coffee and cigarette and five minutes of quiet were a dumb fantasy. He should've known better by now, and he scolded himself internally for even entertaining the idea at all.
Jack had been far too in his own head to notice you sitting next to Lena at first. He hadn't even registered there was another person there at all. But then Lena spoke.
"Jack, this is our new nurse! Freshly graduated, did most of her rotation at Presby. She'll be on the night shift with us. She's incredible."
He turned toward you as you stood up, ready to give his usual new-start spiel and welcome you to the hospital. But then he saw you, and it felt as if all the air had been punched out of his lungs.
Fuck.
He noticed you now, and he was never going to stop noticing you. He was sure of it.
The first thing he registered about you was your smile. Polite, friendly, small, yet still beautiful. Your eyes sparkled and crinkled at the corners, your small, yet full lips stretched into the most gorgeous smile he'd ever seen in his life.
He wanted to make you smile like that, would do whatever it took to keep that smile plastered on your face forever. Would go back to war if it meant you'd keep smiling at him like that.
Then, he noticed your hair. It was clipped back away from your face, but a few small strands escaped from the front and framed your face. It took all of Jack's resolve not to lean over and push them behind your ear, and his fingertips tingled at the thought.
Then, your scrubs. You were wearing a light green undershirt, rolled up to your elbows, and your gray scrubs fit you so perfectly. Fitted, but relaxed still. He'd never seen someone look so beautiful in hospital scrubs before. They were smooth and neat, not creased and stained and worn like his own.
The irony struck him instantly then. There you were, young and spirited and new. Not creased, not worn down, not yet marred by nearly two decades in this job and a life lived.
His heart was beating so loud in his ears that he didn't actually hear your name when you introduced yourself. His head was swimming, his pulse was quickening by the second, and his hands were clammy and warm. He stuffed them into his pockets, as if to hide any evidence of the effect you were having on him.
The next thing Jack felt was guilt. Heavy, nauseating, and immediate. He hadn't so much as looked at another woman in the four years that had passed since his wife had died. No dates, no flirting, no anything. But then there you were. Beautiful in an effortless and unintentional way, clearly unaware of how everyone looked at you.
You were young, full of light and youth and hope. Jack had long forgotten that any of those things even existed, and now you were here. Reminding him of all of it with just a simple smile.
It terrified him.
So when you extended your hand out to shake his own, Jack's brain short-circuited. He knew, with a horrifying and sudden certainty, that if he took your hand, let his bare skin brush against yours, he'd never be able to let it go. He stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets and clenched them tightly, and his nails dug into the skin of his palms. The slight pain was sharp, but grounding.
It took every ounce of his courage for him to respond.
"Right. Yeah, nice to meet you too."
The words tasted like bile, and came out far more dismissive and rude than he'd intended. Fuck. He couldn't say anything more to you. He simply couldn't. You'd turned him to goo with just a polite smile and your sparkling eyes. He would literally combust if he engaged in a full conversation with you, he was sure of it.
He watched as you swallowed thickly and clenched your jaw. Watched as you retracted your smaller, delicate hand. Watched as you clenched your own fists at your sides, and your eyes sparked with a sudden, defensive glint.
Out of sheer, desperate self-preservation, Jack forced himself to turn away from you, and back toward Lena, but his heart still thumped hard against his chest, threatening to burst right through it.
"Lena, can you check on the status of the labs for our patient in North 5?" He forced his tone back to his usual clipped, clinical manner. Forced his eyes to stay on Lena, no matter how badly they wanted to betray him and stare at you.
"Yeah Jack, sure. But I—"
He cut her off. He couldn't stand another minute in your presence. He needed to get away. Needed to think, settle his brain. Stop himself from spiralling and wallowing in his guilt and immediate interest in you. No. He needed out of this situation. Now.
"I don't have time for introductions tonight, Lena." He snapped. It wasn't on purpose, and he could barely conceal the wince of disgust at his own words. "Let me know when you get those labs back."
Jack snatched an iPad from the rack on the counter, and gripped it tightly in his hands, and his knuckles turned white from the pressure. He took a few steps away before his brain flashed with another terrifying thought.
You. In one of the trauma bays. Standing next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder, assisting on a case. His gloved hand brushing yours as you handed him an instrument. The white-hot heat of fluorescents beaming down on you both as you worked, sweat beading on your forehead.
No. He couldn't. He needed to be focused. Couldn't have you there, distracting him with your face and your voice and that light vanilla smell that he knew would linger in his nose long after his shift ended.
He wouldn't survive an hour of it. Wouldn't survive five minutes of being that close to you. He had to keep you away from him.
"Oh, and let's keep the new hires away from any critical traumas for the first few days," he said, as he looked over his shoulder and winced inwardly at Lena's confused expression.
"We're already short-staffed. I can't have anyone slowing us down."
There. He'd done it. That should keep you away from him for now.
So, he left. Walked aimlessly toward the north cubicles, not registering a single thing on the iPad screen. The thought of coffee and a cigarette and a break was lost long ago in his head. He didn't look back. Couldn't bear to see the expression on your face. Confusion, and hurt and who knows what else. Disgust at his rudeness, probably.
But it was better this way. Right? It's better for you to hate him and stay away, than be close to him and get wrapped up in all of his shit.
He told himself this, over and over in his head for the remainder of his shift. He hid in empty patient rooms and behind charts at his computer whenever he saw or heard you. He watched from afar as Mateo flirted with you in triage, and he let out a deep, trembling sigh of relief when he saw you clock out in the morning.
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He was standing at his locker later, bag already over his shoulder and a protein bar in his mouth when Shen cornered him again.
"Dude. Why were you so rude to the new nurse? Everyone's talking about it. Do you know her or something?" Shen asked, as he tossed his empty Dunkin' cup in the trash.
He walked over to his locker, opened it, and turned back to Jack with an expectant, judgemental look.
Jack froze. Great. The last thing he needed was for the entire department to be gossiping about his seemingly random hatred for you.
"I wasn't rude to her. I was just tired."
"Yeah, man. We all are. That was rude." Shen raised his eyebrows as he spoke, silently daring Jack to give him a real answer.
Jack couldn't tell the truth. Not about this.
"It's just been a rough day. I'll find her and apologize tomorrow." Jack knew he was lying. He absolutely would not apologize, because who knows what else he'd end up saying if he was that close to you?
"Can you hop off me now so I can go home and sleep?" He muttered under his breath. Shen heard and snorted.
"You better. We need her. We need all the help we can get."
He was right, and Jack knew it.
"I know." He managed to say softly through a bite of his protein bar.
"Good." Shen replied. "Now go home and shower, and sleep. You look like shit."
He sure as hell felt like it.
"Thanks for that, bud," Jack replied sarcastically. "Night, man."
After Shen had gone, Jack just stood still in the locker room for a while. His half-eaten protein bar still hanging loosely in one hand, and his thoughts drifted right back to you before he could stop them.
Fuck.
This job was about to get a whole lot harder.
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TWO WEEKS AGO
The sudden quiet of the break room was suffocating.
Guilt, anger and mind-numbing desire sat heavy in his chest, weighing him down with each breath. His mind looped the image of you in his face, mere inches from him. Red hot fury and hatred prevalent in your eyes as you stared him down and hissed at him.
"Move Jack-ass. Now, or I swear to God, I will hit you."
Your words rang in his ears, and he hated himself for liking it. Hated the way his heart rate had picked up and his cock had twitched at the thought of you slapping him.
He had to forcibly remind himself that you didn't say it teasingly. You weren't flirting. You'd said it through gritted teeth, a genuine threat. Somehow, that made it even hotter, and Jack internally cursed his fucked up brain for it.
Jack stood still in the room for a minute, before his gaze drifted towards your empty thermos in the sink. Against his better judgement, he picked it up and ran his hands over it.
It was a sage green colour, the same colour as the undershirt you often wore under your scrubs. The same colour as your crocs, and your stethoscope too.
He loved that about you. Your insistence on cohesion and coordination, both in your job, and in your appearance. Your belongings. Everything was always cohesive, seemingly perfectly tailored. You never looked unkempt. Never looked as tired as you must have felt. Not even after a double shift or an MCI.
Jack ran his thumb over the mouthpiece of your thermos. Your lips had touched this. The thought flashed across his brain to bring it to his lips and see if he could taste you, or your lip balm.
Jesus. He was fucked up. Broken beyond repair. Who even thinks like that?
Apparently, he did. He'd thought that way when he'd swiped your lip balm from the place you left it a few months ago. He'd thought that way when he'd picked up your favourite green pen and pocketed it for himself when you left it at the nurses' station.
Jack had quite the little collection of your things now. Nothing big, nothing truly creepy. But it still made him sick to his stomach when he went home, opened his nightstand drawer, and your belongings spilled out. It made him feel dirty.
There was a green hair tie, your pen, a few lip balms, your green clover badge charm that had fallen off a few weeks ago. Worst of all, there was a cardboard coffee sleeve with your name written on, with a little heart scribbled next to it. Presumably, a barista had written your name on it for the order, but you had still touched it. It was still you. Your name.
Jack had fished it out of the recycling bin a few days ago when no one was looking, and stuffed it into his pockets. He'd felt horrible about it then, he still did now. But he couldn't bring himself to throw it away. Most of the time, the items stayed in his nightstand drawer. All but one. He kept your clover badge charm in his pocket every day.
These little things were his only physical connection to you, and he found himself reaching for that charm in his pocket during a bad shift for comfort. It grounded him, in some fucked up perverted way.
He sighed, and dropped your green thermos back into the sink. He took a deep breath, rubbed his eyes as if to physically scrub the thoughts away, and turned on his heel out of the room. He couldn't stand to be in there anymore, surrounded by your scent - vanilla, with something spicy underneath it, and spearmint from your post cigarette mints.
He stormed quickly towards the ambulance bay doors, hand already in his pocket and reaching for his lighter when he heard it. You.
Your voice was fragile and meek. Exhaustion and defeat lacing the edges of your tone. He'd never heard you sound like this. It stopped him dead in his tracks, and he froze.
"I'm thinking about leaving. Is that what you wanted to hear, Vic?" You said sharply to Javadi, and Jack hardly contained the sharp inhale of shock that coursed over him.
Leaving? You couldn't leave. Why were you leaving him?
The heavy glass-panelled doors stayed shut, but the worn rubber seal allowed your voice to bleed through the gap in the frame. Jack stayed frozen still, waiting.
"Sorry," your voice rushed out, apologetically. "It's just- I can't work like this anymore. He makes it unbearable for me. I'm exhausted, and when I think about coming into work... I just- I can't do it anymore."
Jack couldn't breathe. What had he done? You were leaving. Because of him. Because he couldn't get his shit together enough to treat you right. Here he was, almost two decades into his career and on the wrong side of fifty, bullying a twenty four year old nurse into leaving just because he liked her? Loved her? Whatever.
He was behaving like a schoolboy with a crush. What was wrong with him? How could he have let it get this bad? How didn't he see what it was doing to you?
Javadi's sharp voice pulled him out of his spiralling thoughts. Something about how you leaving gave him power, and that's the last thing he needed. He shrunk into himself at the brutal honesty of her words, cringing at how real they were.
Jack's brain was going to explode from guilt and anger and self hatred and grief. He couldn't lose you. Didn't want to. Wouldn't. Especially not because of his own actions.
You spoke again, and Jack's hair stood on end at what he heard.
"Vic," you interjected, and Jack could hear the harsh reality settling in your words. Firm and unwavering.
You continued. "It's only getting worse. HR are eventually going to step in and fire one of us if we can't start working together. And when they do, it's not going to be him. I'm just a nurse, and he's... well, him."
You were right. Of course you were right. How did he not see this coming? How could he have been so blind? He'd been so wrapped up in his own bullshit and self loathing for the last two years, that he hadn't once considered what this could mean for you. For your career.
He needed to grow the fuck up and make this right. He was going to.
"He's such a fucking asshole." Javadi spat, pure unbridled anger sat heavy in her words, and it made Jack cringe. She was his R1 now, and even she knew better. "We have to do something."
"Vic, there's nothing to do." You replied softly. Any residual anger or frustration in your tone had fully dissipated now. "This is the solution, honey. I'll be fine. You'll be fine. We'll still hang out all the time. I'm not leaving today, I haven't talked spoke to Lena yet. I'm not going anywhere for now..." You paused for a second and inhaled sharply before continuing, and Jack hung onto your every word.
"I just think this is the best option. I don't want either of us to lose our jobs. I might hate him, but he's a damn good doctor, and he's a good attending to you all."
Jack's heart physically ached at your comment. He'd spent two years all but terrorising you because of his feelings for you, and you still, after all of it, defended his capabilities as a physician.
He felt sick to his stomach, and bile rose up in his throat. He swallowed it down, the acrid taste burning as it went down, and he took a deep breath.
He needed to fix this.
He had to fix this.
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The rest of his shift dragged on and out second by second. Jack could barely concentrate on anything except you. Guilt and fear gnawed angrily at his insides the whole time, and his hands shook terribly for the rest of the night, and into the morning.
It got so bad that Shen had needed to take over during a crike, because Jack couldn't stop his hands from shaking. He'd told Jack to get some air, but he couldn't. It wouldn't help. He needed to speak to you, convince you to stay somehow. Only once he knew you were staying, would his heart rate slow down and his hands stop shaking.
He would get on his hands and knees and beg if that's what you wanted. You couldn't leave. It wasn't fair to you. He should be the one to leave if it had to be either of you.
He'd quit this job that he'd given so much to in a heartbeat if it meant you'd get to stay here and be happy. He'd do anything for you, no questions asked. It scared him to death.
As soon as 7am hit, and the night shift staff started slowly trickling out, Jack's eyes stuck to you like glue. He gave Robby the quickest handoff recap of all time, and headed straight to where he knew you'd be.
He knew your routine as well as his own now. You took two smoke breaks per shift if you had enough time. Never three, but always two if the schedule that day allowed for it. You always arrived at exactly 6:40am, rarely ever a minute late.
And, you went up to the roof after every single shift. You smoked a cigarette, and watched the cars and ambulances down below for 15 minutes, before commuting home in your little green sedan.
He knew that's where he'd find you.
Jack bypassed the locker room for now, and beelined towards the stairs that led to the roof. He jogged up the stairs, and his leg ached. But he ignored it. He just had to get to you. Everything else could wait.
He threw the door to the roof open, and the morning light hit him all at once. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw you.
You were standing at the edge, leaning over the railing to get a good view. You obviously hadn't heard him, because you didn't move an inch. Jack stood there for a moment, just taking you in. You were so beautiful it made his heart ache.
"You're going to catch a cold out here without your coat." He heard himself say.
You gasped and whipped around, clearly a little startled by his sudden outburst. He caught the way your posture straightened and your shoulders tensed when you saw it was him. His heart sank a little at the thought of you dreading his presence.
Your eyes darted to the door as if you were planning an escape route before you responded.
"Abbot, if you're here to lecture me on charting or something before I leave, I swear-"
'I'm sorry."
His words cut through the morning air, and you closed your mouth mid sentence. You just stood and blinked at him for a few moments, as if you were unsure that what you were hearing was real. A look of pure confusion settled on your face, and it was then that Jack realised he had never apologised to you before.
How could he have been so fucking dumb?
He took a deep breath and stepped towards you. He slid his hands into his scrub pockets, and reached for the badge charm. Your badge charm. Calm washed over him as soon as the cool plastic brushed against his fingertip, and he let out a sigh of relief.
"I'm sorry. For tonight. For the last two years. For every single time I've been a dismissive, stubborn, arrogant bastard to you."
You didn't respond right away; just stared into his eyes for a moment. You were confused, suspicious probably. Of course you were, he hadn't even tried to have a normal conversation with you in two years, and now here he was. Apologising.
He didn't blame you for being so guarded.
"Is this a joke? Are you fucking with me, Abbot? Did Javadi put you up to this? I swear to God if Javadi-"
"No," he interrupted. "Javadi didn't say anything to me. But I heard you. Earlier. In the ambulance bay?"
Your face dropped visibly, and you frowned. You gnawed at your lip anxiously, and Jack never wanted to see that look on your face ever again. He vowed to himself then that he'd do everything in his power to make sure you only ever smiled at him from then on.
You inhaled sharply and searched his eyes for something, but Jack knew you wouldn't find anything in them. He'd worked hard and spent years perfecting his poker face, and if there was any time to use it, it was now.
"You weren't meant to hear that." You said quietly, and turned back around to face away from him. You leant over the railing, and Jack had had to forcibly drag his eyes away from the shape of your ass under your scrubs. Not the time, man.
He took a few more steps toward you, and joined you in staring down at the road below.
There was a beat of silence before Jack broke it.
"I'm glad I heard it," he said, as he turned his face toward yours. You didn't meet his gaze though; you just kept your eyes firmly planted on the horizon.
"The thought of you leaving this department, or this hospital because of my baggage and insecurities... It makes me sick. You're an incredible nurse. You're not slow at all, you're intuitive and empathetic and you care about your patients in a way that half the staff downstairs have forgotten how to."
The words had come rolling off of his tongue before he knew how to stop them, and he let himself give into it.
At least he could be honest about that part. You were a great nurse. The best on the floor even. He couldn't believe that he'd let himself convince you you weren't. Nausea fluttered in his stomach again, but he pushed it down and carried on.
"We need you down there. We need more people like you. If anyone should be leaving, it's me, not you."
You turned to face him then. Your chest was heaving, and your lips were red from where you'd been biting on them. He wanted to kiss them better.
"Okay," you said suddenly. "Then why?"
"Why what?" Jack replied. He'd been too busy thinking about your lips on his, and his brain hadn't caught up with your words yet.
"If I'm such a great nurse, then why have you done everything in your power to make me feel like I was the exact opposite for the past two years?" You stared at him expectantly, unblinking.
You were the first person that had ever made Jack feel so small. Not in a bad way, but you held this power over him that made him want to give into to you. Listen to you. Follow you wherever you went.
"Because I'm a cynical, stubborn old bastard who didn't know how to handle someone who wouldn't let me bulldoze them." Jack started. There was a little truth in his words. You did challenge him. Like no one else ever did. But it wasn't the full truth. He got the sense that you knew that too, based on the look you gave him.
"You challenged me from the second you started. Instead of handling that like an adult, I let my own shit get in the way and I built a wall. It wasn't fair to you. It was entirely unprofessional, and I'm sorry."
You stared at him for a long moment then, your eyes bore holes into his as you searched his expression for a hint of sarcasm or dishonesty.
When you didn't find it, your shoulders relaxed, and you let out a loud and clearly long awaited sigh of relief. Jack did too. You believed him.
"Thank you." You said, after a moment. You nodded slightly as you spoke. "For apologising, I mean. Not for terrorising me for two years." You smiled at that a little, and Jack's knees almost gave out on him.
God, that smile. It was his favourite thing in the world.
Jack winced a little at the memories of all the times he'd started arguments with you. Idiot.
"I don't expect you to forgive me right away," he murmured, guilt still gnawing at him. "Two years of being a jackass is a lot to forgive. But I'm asking you stay, and give me another chance. Work with me. Let me prove to you that I can be someone you deserve to work alongside."
He'd tried his best to sound earnest and not as desperate as he felt inside. When you let out a small, breathy chuckle, Jack was sure he could physically feel every muscle in his body relax.
"Promise you're not gonna call me 'Flash' anymore?" You asked as you looked out over the horizon before turning to face him again.
"Wouldn't dream of it." He replied, firm with a little sarcasm lining the edges.
A small, genuine smile touched the corners of your mouth, and Jack's chest clenched at the sight. Your real smile. Directed at him. He was going to die if you kept smiling at him like that.
"Okay, Abbot," you said softly, as you turned and took a step toward the door. You brought your hand up to his bicep and squeezed it lightly, just for a few seconds.
"Let's try it. I'll see you tomorrow."
He watched you walk away, and didn't stop until you'd stepped through the door.
Jack's arm had tingled where you'd touched it for days after, and he replayed it in his mind over and over again.
Hopefully being your friend was going to be easier than being your enemy, otherwise, Jack was completely and utterly screwed.
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TWO WEEKS LATER
"Okay, seriously, what the actual hell is happening?"
Shen dropped an iPad onto Ellis' desk, leaning toward her with his eyes basically bulging out of his head.
"Are we in an alternate universe? Did someone slip medical-grade hallucinogens into the coffee filter or something?" Shen continued.
Ellis didn't look up from her tablet, but her eyebrows twitched with mild amusement as she rolled her eyes.
"If you're having visual hallucinations again, Shen, go and find a dark room. I am not documenting your bad trip."
"I am not having a bad trip!" Shen hissed as he pointed a frantic finger toward Trauma Bay 2. "Look at them, Ellis. Look! I'm 100% convinced that Abbot has been replaced by an advanced cybernetic organism or something. It's the only explanation."
Ellis paused at that, halfway through typing on the iPad. She finally looked up and stared at Shen, eyes void of any amusement whatsoever.
"A what, Shen?"
"A robot, Ellis. A robot or a skin-walker or an alien," Shen insisted, and he nudged her arm and nodded toward Trauma 2.
Through the glass windows of the trauma bay, you and Jack were working on a high-velocity car crash patient. Together. But there was no yelling, no tension. Nothing. In fact, it was the opposite.
Jack held out his hand without looking, his eyes fixed on the patient, and you instantly handed him a clamp before he could even ask for it. You muttered something that neither Shen nor Ellis could hear, and Jack laughed. Like, actually laughed. A deep, booming belly laugh.
It sent chills down Shen's spine.
Garcia was in the room with you and Jack too, alongside Jesse and Cruz. All three of them paused for half a second when Jack laughed. They locked eyes with each other, and shrugged. Clearly very confused, and maybe a little concerned.
"Ellis. They've been like this for like... Two weeks now." Shen whispered, sounding genuinely terrified.
"They haven't fought once. It's genuinely starting to worry me. Do you think one of them is dying or something?"
Ellis couldn't control the cackle that escaped her mouth.
"You're so dramatic, Shen. Maybe they finally fucked it out. That's what I've had my bet on for the last year, and Ahmad charges interest for long standing bets, you know?"
"No, I'm not dramatic, and anyway, they definitely haven't slept together yet. I already asked Perlah and Princess." Shen took a long, loud sip out of his practically empty Dunkin' cup, and Ellis snatched it right out of his hand and threw it into the trash.
"Hey! I wasn't done!" Shen whined.
"Yeah well, I was." Ellis retorted, before looking back to the trauma bay where you and Jack now stood, chatting casually to Garcia as the stabilised patient was rolled out of the room.
"You know, last night, I swear to God, I heard her call him Jack and he didn't even flinch. Two weeks ago they were an inch away from a double homicide, and now they're like Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee. It's weird." Shen shuddered dramatically, and pulled out his phone. No doubt already ordering another iced coffee.
That got Ellis' attention. "Wait... She called him Jack? Not Jack-ass, or Abbot? Are you sure?" That was really weird. Everyone knew that you had never once called Jack by his first name. Ever. It had even become a running joke with the night shift staff.
"See! That's what I'm telling you. It's weird. She called him Jack and he actually smiled at her. Like, a real smile. It's unnatural, Ellis." Shen waved his hands dramatically in the air, and let out an exasperated sigh.
Ellis just nodded in agreement. "Well, whatever it is that got them all made up, I'm just happy I don't have to keep separating them during their fights."
Shen shrugged. "I guess..."
They stood there for a moment, just watching you and Jack through the glass doors. Garcia stepped out of the room a few seconds later, and walked straight up to Ellis and Shen.
"Oh my God. What is going on with those two? It's freaking me the fuck out!" She whispered as she walked by, eyes wide in faux horror and disgust.
"I know, right?" Shen and Ellis exclaimed at the same time.
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ahhhh the first chapter is finally out! i hope you guys like it :) i didnt get the chance to proof read this fully and my italics didnt paste over, but i hope you like it anyway! this is my first ever fic, so feedback and format advice is always appreciated. comment to be added to taglist!!
You have been working out hard the last 4 months. Like hard and consistent. Sometimes you don’t even really see that you’ve made any progress because you see yourself in the mirror. But you can feel the muscles in your legs but if you’re walking around you don’t really see them but everyone else in the Pitt? Can definitely tell.
One day your scrubs feel a little tight around your thighs and ass. You brushed it aside for the scrubs being freshly washed.
You come into work half tired because the workout from the morning kicked your ass. Still having some of the smell of sweat on you. Jack notices everything about you. No matter if it’s a new shampoo, new body wash whatever it is. He saw the way those scrubs hugged the curve of your hips and the side profile of your ass, was hard for him to look away from. He called himself a tits guy but the way that your ass looked in your scrubs had him hard in an instant.
He tried so hard to hide it walking over to you he already had a limp from standing on his good foot for the past few hours. Because of course he came in early to help Robby. He looked around making sure no one else but him was looking. He slugged off his jacket he had been wearing as if he could pull it down to hide painfully hard erection.
He limped to the bathroom going into the stall so he could sit. This was going to be a long shift. Especially if you were walking around all cheeked up on a Wednesday night. He palmed his erection letting out a huffy groan that he had to keep quiet.
He knew you were going to the gym trying new things but he wasn’t expecting that much of a difference! He felt like a creep palming his dick through his scrub pants from the quick look of your ass in the scrubs. Does he care? Not really.
He shoves the scrubs down just low enough so his dick is out he starts rubbing his hand down his length groaning slightly. He has never once done anything like this-at work at least. To the thought of one of the medstudents… He didn’t care he pushed that thought out of his mind he didn’t care is he was a perv or creepy. It barely crossed his mind.
He bit his lip to help muffle the moans that were escaping his throat. And when he felt the tension build in his spine he stood up turning around to not make a mess he did know better than to make a mess of his scrubs or the bathroom. How humiliating would it be to call EVS to clean up his own mess?
He leaned over the toilet for a moment. Catching his breath. He was in for a long night. He shoved his now soft dick back in his scrubs flushing the toilet washing his hands and then walking back out of the bathroom like nothing had even happened. He sloughed off his jacket he was wearing putting it over your shoulders. “Patients are going to get distracted and will try to grope you walking around with that” he says calmly to you.
You look up at him confused like was that a compliment? Or was he telling you to wear more modest scrubs?
Jack looks back at you as he keeps walking to go take care of one of his patients seeing how the jacket flows and covers your perfect ass. Which he would have to get behind and absolutely rail the living daylights out of you from behind.
A/n- I literally got this idea because I was walking into the bathroom and I’ve been goin mg to the gym and wore a pair of scrubs that literally made my ass look sooo good. So please enjoy some Pervy dr. Abbot 😌
18+ MDNI! content warnings: cheating, oral sex (f rec), praise, medical stuff, implied cucking
you're a little stressed after spending the night with your boyfriend. he simply could not get you wet, even though he tried soooo hard... so you head to your physician, dr jack abbot.
jack listens with restrained satisfaction at the desperate note in your voice, at that hint of concern, like you're worried that something is wrong. he wants so badly to tell you that your boyfriend is just fucking useless, that it's nothing to worry about, that you're being a good girl…
but first, he wants to be sure. "let me see, honey."
he lays you out on the exam table, then his hand withdraws from your trembling thighs, moving down to gently grip the back of your knee. "spread a little more for me. i wanna check something."
you watch as he pushes forward on the stool, his head and shoulders lowering between your legs. he gently hooks your legs over his shoulders, positioning himself closer to your pussy, his gaze roaming over your flushed skin.
he presses a warm peck to your inner thigh. "there," he murmurs, eyes dark and intense. "let me take care of you, honey. do you trust me?"
"yes," you reply, and you barely have time to exhale before he's pressing a feather-light kiss to your clit, making you gasp. "doctor abbot?"
his chuckle vibrates against your skin as he lifts his head just enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze. "just making sure everything's working right," he mutters, the innocence in his tone at odds to the way his tongue flicks over your clit in a quick, teasing stroke.
his hands slide up to grip your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft skin there. "relax," he orders softly, lips brushing your inner thigh again. "let me show you what your boyfriend should've been doing."
then he lowers his mouth to your cunt properly and licks a hot, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit. "what– what's this test for?" you breathe out, your chest heaving with arousal.
his mouth moves against you, tongue taking broad, languid laps. "it's called the clitoral glans test," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "to see how responsive you are. And you're being a very, very good girl, i must say."
"sweet girl," he praises. "taking my mouth so well." he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "your boyfriend ever do this to you?" he murmurs.
you exhale shakily, the shame gnawing at you again as you shake your head. "no... he... he said he doesn't like doing it..."
his tongue swipes over your hole again, almost thoughtfully lapping up your juices, the ones that spilled just for him. "he doesn't like it, huh? well, he's an idiot, honey, because you taste incredible."
"t-thank you," you stutter out at the praise, your hips bucking up against his mouth. "ah- sorry-"
"no apologies, sweetheart," he says into your cunt, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin in reassurance. "i like your desperate little movements. keep going, honeygirl. let me see just how responsive you are." then his tongue is back between your legs, stroking slow, up and down, as he gauges your reactions.
"and don't you worry, honey," he says conversationally, as if he didn't currently have his mouth on your pretty little cunt, "you make another appointment, i will be teaching your boyfriend how to eat your pussy very thoroughly, no matter how much he says he doesn't like it. cunt like this deserves to get eaten."
he hums, the sound low and thoughtful. "maybe i'll even make him take notes. have him write up a full report on the experience."
pair: perv!jack abbot x superhornyfem!reader
summary: it’s a slow night at PTMC so you're lucky to get some extra special treatment for the embarrassingly self-indulgent reason you find yourself there. lucky for you, you couldn’t be in better hands.
wc: 2887 | also on AO3
a/n: i’ve wanted to dip my toes into dark!abbot and perv!abbot territory and also maybe try to be funny idk !!
warnings: jack violates a code of ethics, no piv, lil bit of med fet, self-inflicted ER visit (a real oopsie!), clit stim w/ a vibrator, reader has a vag and just wanted to get off goddammit!
MASTERLIST
They call your name at least three times before you stir out of a failed attempt at a nap.
The PTMC waiting room feels oddly empty, not that you know much about how it looks otherwise, but you'd at least expect it to be more crowded, chaotic. Abuzz, as one would expect from the emergency department of a place called Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. Where’s... well, all the trauma?
In your case, the "trauma" is the massive fucking pain in your right heel that's somehow rendered you unable to put any weight on it without keeling over. Hence the Uber ride instead of a quick drive over. Hence why the attractive curly-haired male nurse who performed triage on you about half an hour ago was now approaching with a wheelchair in tow.
You jolt awake when he pushes the wheelchair a little too close and it bumps into your knee only slightly, for which he apologizes. You try to stave him off and tell him you don't need it, that you could walk perfectly fine, but he insists it's protocol. If the pain in your foot ends up being a stress fracture, the last thing you'd want to do is continue to aggravate it. You huff, and it's partly because of your interrupted nap, and partly because you're gonna have to decide how you're going to explain how this injury came about on a random Tuesday night to this very hot, scruffy, bicep-y male nurse who, you notice upon inhaling the air in his personal vicinity, smells really goddamned good.
He wheels you back through the doors of reception and a little further forward into a room labeled with the number 12 and then asks you to move from the wheelchair and sit on the bed. You, again, insist on your ambulatory nature, but when you accidentally put your weight on that right heel that sharp pang shoots through your foot all over again, causing you to let out a pained Aaah as you slowly collapse back into the chair. You thank Nurse Mateo, now that you remember the name he gave you when he checked on you during triage, when he offers his arm for support while still allowing you to feel some sense of control as you get up, more carefully now, from the wheelchair to the bed.
Mateo asks you to change into a gown. You don’t understand why, exactly, since you’re dealing with a foot issue, but he tells you it’s protocol just in case they need to do any additional physical exams. He draws the privacy curtain and steps out until you’re ready, and then he helps you back onto the bed so you don’t stumble and fall before they get to any sort of treatment. Mateo informs you of what comes next, because you’d mentioned your anxiety disorder and how much it helps to know what to expect beforehand. He outlines how they’re going to briefly examine your foot to check for tenderness in the plantar fascia versus the arch itself so they could rule out a stress fracture. Then, you might need an X-ray, or they might give you some ice and let you rest until you feel better.
Your heart starts to race when, after repeating the routine responses you have to do at every stage of a medical visit (mostly your date of birth), he asks a simple question:
“So, want to tell me how this happened?”
Before you can speak, someone knocks on the door and asks if he can come in—well, he lets himself in, anyway. A much older doctor enters, the slivers of white and silver in his hair casting a cool halo over his rugged features.
“Looks like I’m a little early. Hi, I’m Doctor Abbot, but you can call me Jack,” he introduces himself as he approaches your bed and takes the tablet off the nurse you’d been speaking to. You notice his eyes move between the screen, then at your face, then your body, your face again, the screen again. He turns to Mateo. “I can take over this, man, don’t even worry about it. Take a break, it’s a slow night.”
The older man shrugs and sends a wink your way. You think it’s cheeky but can’t help feeling tickled by the intriguing charm about him; besides, you’re a little delirious from the time of day and don’t really care which hunky medical provider’s hands get all up over your foot tonight.
It’ll be the most action you’ve had in months.
“Doctor Abbot’s our Senior Attending here, so you won’t be in any greater hands,” Mateo tells you with a smile before nodding at Jack and walking toward the door.
“Mateo, do you mind draping the window for us?” Jack adds, and so the nurse kindly shuts the privacy curtain before leaving the room.
Doctor Jack Abbot turns back toward you while you’re still seated upright, your right leg outstretched, your foot propped on a pillow. “So, where were we? You think you gave yourself plantar fasciitis. Why do you think that?”
It’s tough to hide the nervous expression from your face. “I think I have to explain what I did to get my foot all messed up. Oh my god, it’s so embarrassing, please don’t judge me!”
The doctor raised an eyebrow, and if your eyes aren’t fooling you his lip seems to curl on one side as if to smile or smirk but you can’t tell. By focusing on his face even the slightest bit, your anxiety starts to mix with a new warmth you weren’t quite feeling earlier. If you told this man what got you in this position, you don’t even think he would take you seriously for the rest of your time here.
He puts a hand on your right foot, palming your metatarsal pads and curling his finger around your toes. It doesn’t strike you as creepy at all, but more… comforting? His next words are softer. “I won’t judge you. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think, but if you can tell me what happened, I can figure out what’s wrong, and I’ll know how to treat you.”
His words sound like a heartbeat. I won’t judge you. I’m sure it’s not bad, I can figure it out. I will know. You take a deep breath.
“I was…kneeling… in the tub,” you begin. “I was kneeling, like, for a while, while taking a shower. And maybe I over-stretched something in my foot, because, because when I stepped out of the shower, it just… like my foot fucking collapsed. And now my foot is disgusting because I am way too much of a disgusting, sex-starved, horny freak…”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Jack says, his hands just hovering over you in an attempt to soothe. It only partially works and you know exactly what he’s going to ask next, especially after your broken response. “I think I’m missing some pretty key information here. Were you with someone when this happened? Because the only thing I’m judging is why you’re here all alone.”
There it is again. Another sensation shoots through your body, and you can’t tell whether it’s left over from earlier in the evening or a new feeling from this specific conversation.
“Because I was alone,” you respond, softly, guiltily, still in disbelief that you’ve really decided to take yourself to an emergency room because of this stupid fucking self-inflicted thing. “I was kneeling because… I was using a toy.”
You look up at him, hoping he understands what you mean. He bites his lower lip and nods. It’s less of a seductive bite but definitely knowing.
But now that you’ve started to explain yourself, you can’t help but keep explaining.
“I was playing with my vibrator,” you continue, starting to use your hands to demonstrate. “It’s this rabbit thing, so there’s a part that goes inside, and the other part sits on your—um, clit— and this specific one kinda thrusts on one end while the clit end goes bzzzz, bzzzzz—and I was listening to a pretty spicy story in the tub, and kneeling on the toy felt like riding it, and at one point I just—”
“Okay, okay, I think I understand what’s going on,” the doctor chuckles before pausing. “And this happened over the course of… a few seconds? A couple of minutes?”
“Doc—Jack, I kept going for, like, ten minutes,” you scoff, fully acknowledging how you are baring this excessively vulnerable part of yourself to this doctor. You know you’re probably freaking him out with this. But no one, not even your mom or your gynecologist prepared you for the utter ferality of ovulating in your thirties. You lower your voice to almost a whisper when you add, “I came, like, four times.”
“And now you’re here,” the doctor remarks.
“Now I’m here.”
“And you hurt your foot.”
“I fucking hurt my foot.”
Jack, staring at you, takes a moment to gather himself. Then he looks at you a little more seriously. Like a lightbulb has just clicked on in that middle-aged, medical mind of his. “Did you, by any chance, bring this—um, rabbit—with you tonight?”
You’re surprised at his question, but you nod. Based on your previous ER visits from more hedonistic days, you’re more than used to the long waits inside one of these patient rooms, and the slightly freakier side of you may have had a passing thought that you could pass the time in some other way than tossing and turning on a stiff bed at a trauma hospital. “It’s right here,” you say, patting a black drawstring pouch next to you on the mattress. “Do you want to… see it?”
There’s no doubt about it.
The doctor is definitely smirking now.
You take the mint green skin-safe silicone device out of its silk encasement and shamelessly present it to your provider. Jack takes it in his hand like he knows exactly what to do with it.
“I’m sorry,” Doctor Abbot begins, and you don’t quite know how the rest of the sentence is about to go. “...that you had to go through all that trouble to, well, make yourself feel good. You’re supposed to take care of yourself, not take yourself to a hospital.”
Your breath hitches when he holds a long press upon one of the buttons, activating the vibrating end that’s meant to go on your clit. “Doctor…”
…is all you can muster, because you don’t know how the next few words are even meant to come out of your mouth.
“I could—take care of you,” he says, his voice dropping into a groan. “Would you… like… that?”
Doctor Jack Abbot, an attending physician of the emergency department at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center, is standing over you now, the buzzing knob of the toy hovering over your clit through the delicate sheath of your hospital gown.
His words fall in beats. You can feel your pupils widen and your mouth water.
“Yes,” you whisper, a crumb of voice escaping the tail of your word.
“Yes…?”
“Yes, doctor.” You lick your lips, activated. Holy shit, was this really happening?
“My pretty girl,” he says, his voice dropping into a groan. “Do you want the doctor to take care of you?”
You nod.
“My pretty girl needs to use her words now,” the doctor growls.
“Mmm,” you start to purr. “I want you to take care of me, Doctor Jack.”
He reaches beneath the fabric and lowers the device against your bare, aching flesh.
The moment of contact sends you into a tailspin. You buck your hips while your left leg buckles involuntarily. Your right hand gently paws at his pants where you can feel the erection forming between his legs.
“Holy shit,” you whimper, awed at the novelty of having someone else operate the toy you’ve used multiple times a week for months on end. It’s the same, steady vibration, only now your doctor’s pressing it against your clit harder than you ever did on your own. “S—so— hnngh—Please! T—touch—me—”
You immediately go cross-eyed when Jack presses the button again, increasing the vibration speed. This all feels better than you’d ever imagined. If you’d known this was even remotely possible, that the jacked, hot-as-fuck silver fox attending at the ER two neighborhoods over was at least half as freaky as you…
A soft mewl escapes your lips but the doctor immediately knows to place his hand over your mouth.
“Can’t be too loud while I take care of you, pretty girl,” he commands while you’re seeing double, and you begin to slobber on his palm in return, licking at him to curb the shrieking moans you’d otherwise be hurtling through the ED. “Will you be quiet when I make you cum for me?”
You hum a compliant “mmm” into the wet of his hand, and he moves it away from your face, smearing your saliva down your neck and chest. You don’t even care about the sudden cold of the metal ring in his finger because the lower part of your body is starting to tell you something, like something’s about to burst.
“Breathe through it for me, baby.” The doctor rests his palm on your chest as he says this, half on your heart, half on your breast. You try to do as he asks, battling the writhing of your hips while you feel yourself clenching on nothing.
You reach down to feel the slickness that’s built up all over your pussy that’s started to pool onto the top sheet.
“So—so wet, doc—” you mumble, raising your damp fingers toward him. And you don’t expect him to do it, but Jack leans toward your fingers and sucks your juices off in a single swoop.
Then he does it again: he bites his lip without breaking his gaze from you, this time sharing in your hunger. He adjusts the angle of the toy so its shaft is aligned with the space where your hips have lips of their own. “Are you ready for me, baby?”
You nod, but only on purpose because you know how much it’ll tickle you when Jack says—
“Use your words, my pretty girl. You’re so pretty when you use your words.”
He may as well have licked your cunt clean.
“R-ready.”
You let out a deep exhale when he begins to thrust the toy into you, hooking and curling it along your walls in the ways that show he not only understands but appreciates your anatomy, using slow strokes that send your brain and body into that explosive yet liminal space that you can’t stop coming back to.
And yet you’ve never cum like this before.
For one, you’re pretty sure it’s the first time you’ve made this sound. It’s not the shrieking, ecstatic moan that years of movies and shows and pornos have taught you how to perform an orgasm.
No, the sound you release is low, as if emanating from the depths of your sacrum and out through nearly every gate of your body. It sends a shudder from your core to your extremities. Your legs shake involuntarily while a new and unfamiliar sensation comes spurting from between them that you didn’t even know you were capable of. Your ears ring, your head pounds, and for a moment you forget what you were even doing here in the first place.
When you start to come back to normal, Jack gently slides the toy back out, and if your eyes are trustworthy again you can see the wetness that’s coated his hand. He’s quiet for a moment when he walks to a nearby sink and rinses it off, wipes it down, then hands it back to you.
“Um, thanks,” you say, taking it and stowing it back in the pouch under your pillow. You’re still not quite sure what that was, exactly, except that it was hot and very much needed. “Is my insurance gonna cover that?”
Doctor Abbot chuckles. “I think we can knock it off the superbill if you ask for it.”
“What about my foot?”
“It’s plantar fasciitis—you’ll live. Could be worse,” he says. He lifts the cuff of his pants on one leg and you can see the slightest hint of what he means. “Someone will be back with an ice pack and some NSAIDs, and I’ll send a podiatry referral when you’re discharged.”
“And what about you?” you ask a bit more coyly than you intend, gesturing at the general direction of the strained print against his pants. “Do you need me to take care of you?”
Jack smirks. “Oh, I’m not sure you’d be ready for that.”
“But what if I want to see you again?”
“I’ll come check on you before they let you go.”
“Lucky me, huh, doctor,” you say, adjusting your hospital gown and lying back into the bed as Jack adjusts it to make your indefinite rest period more comfortable. “Coming over here during a slow night.”
“I guess you could say that,” Jack quips in a voice that you could only describe as brushed suede, soft and gruff at the same time, now etched into your sensory memory for your next dry spell.
2026 | thedivinegirlyp0p — do not feed this to any ai tool for any reason or else i will pray for ur sorrowful demise. replies and reblogs are my besties <3
the sun was sweltering, beaming down in harsh rays heating everything it touches. and yet your mother and stepfather still decide to have a damn barbecue.
sweat drips down your temple, sticky and wet making you uncomfortable all over.
bringing the last of the plates outside all but dumping them onto the large wooden table that sits on the deck. you sigh bringing up your tank top to rub the condensation off your skin groaning at the sheer amount there is, and you feel it everywhere and robby is feeling something too something he shouldn’t, not for you.
michael your stepfather, stands across the deck beer in hand leant against the railing, white tshirt sticking to his broad chest. his own sweat making the front see through giving a glimpse of the dark hair littered across him. he was supposed to have been watching the burgers to make sure they don’t burn and cook evenly but he finds something better to take up his time, eyeing you down.
taking in your exposed legs that shine in the sunlight from your lotion or your sweat he doesn’t know. either way he still wants to run his mouth up them to see what you taste like wondering how sweet he knows you’d be. his stare is obvious, not that you’d notice anyways distracted by something on your phone fingers tapping away on the screen, sitting on the table legs swinging carelessly thighs pressing together casually for you but arousing for him. a slide is heard, the unmistakable metallic sound of the glass door opening. hinges squeaky and seemingly fighting against the pressure being put on its frame. the noises alerts you, head picking up looking over your shoulder before a man walks out.
grey hair swept back and a case of beer in hand. “uncle jack!” you grin hopping off the table to walk over sneakers lightly tapping over the floor.
the older man gives you a smile teeth on display opening one unoccupied arm to you, “hey, kid how’re you doin’ these days?” “no hugs today, I’m sweaty and gross” you groan, missing the way his eyes slowly take you in looking from your tits down to your thighs. you’re much more..mature than the last time he saw you he realizes, that having been during your graduation party celebrating your achievement of earning your associates degree. you’ve changed and it is much appreciated by him.
“oh c’mon you can’t give your uncle jackie a hug?” you scoff playfully smile growing wider “I don’t even call you that any—ah!”
he cuts you off wrapping one strong arm around you lifting you into the air, hand just a little too low on your waist, the course hair there scratching at your exposed skin. he half crushes you into a hug “ you’re breakin’ my heart sweetheart” he sighs clearly exaggerated, laughing you squeal kicking your legs “nooo you’re sweaty and gross too!” you do give in though wrapping your arms around his shoulders head laying on his shoulder “it’s nice to see you too though.” you say, unintentionally muttering it in his ear causing him to shiver.
letting you down you turn towards the grill spotting robby and waving “dad, uncle jacks here!” he nods his head signaling that he heard you having to act like he hasn’t been watching you this whole time
biting his lip and running a hand through his beard guilt seeping through him, the way you called the title “dad” so sweetly all the while grinning at him, causing a shameful twitch of his cock inside his cargo shorts.
you walk over to the grill, jack hot on your tail eyes dropping to watch your hips sway as you prance over to michael. who pulls jack into a hug patting him on the back with a “hey there brother.” before pulling away both of them turning their attention to you.
you look back at them obliviously a content smile still on your face “is the food almost done dad? wanna go swimming soon and the thought of eating while dripping all over the chairs doesn’t sound very fun y’know?” you grimace at your own words.
robby nods eyes flicker to jack who bites back a smirk at your accidental innuendo. before settling on you. “no you..wouldn’t wanna” he sucks in a breath “wouldn’t wanna do that yeah—yeah no everything is almost ready.” and you nod, jack piping up “yeah honey, eating while wet can’t be comfortable for anybody especially you.” he snickers at your confused face, lips twisting “yea..? that’s what I said what are you talking about.”
michael elbows jack giving him a pointed stare “ignore him hun, go and change so we can all eat.” you let out a low “kayy” leaning in pecking his cheek, soft lips pressing dangerously close to the edge of his mouth. before turning around n saying your goodbyes to jack advancing back towards the house disappearing behind the glass door. both men’s eyes immediately falling to your ass as you walk. appreciating the way it peeks out of your small denim shorts.
at first nobody says anything only the crackling fire of the grill filling your absence the coals popping occasionally. then jack is speaking “I don’t know how you get anything done with that walking around, keepin’ your hands off must be hard huh?” letting out a low whistle and turning to his friend a sleazy smirk still on his face.
working in the emergency department was like signing a contract for an early death. the stress was enough to make a person go insane. the hours never truly consistent, the constant day to day of not knowing what was going to come in the door would make a normal person's head spin. a good therapist, alcohol, and a somewhat decent sleep schedule is what got most doctors and nurses through their awful work life. you, however, were the complete opposite.
nursing was not exactly your first career choice as a kid, not even a close second. dancing as a ballerina was your absolute dream when younger, loving how pretty they looked in their tutus and ballet shoes. that dream continued well throughout your childhood, your mother forcing you into dance as a kid. when kids in high school poked fun at your love for ballet, you had quit out of sheer embarrassment. the bubble your parents had placed you in didn't help shield you from the constant poking from your peers either. you were so innocent, never having kissed a boy or being knowledgable about anything merely sexual. your sex education came from your anatomy courses while in nursing school. the absolute bare minimum. your first year of nursing was spent at presby, getting somewhat of an education from the other nurses and their gossip about who they had hooked up with that weekend. you would simply stand awkwardly off to the side, pretending to understand what they were talking about when you had not even the slightest clue. what the hell was prone bone?
the rent at your apartment raising had forced you to move, which also forced you into getting a new job at the pitt. the apartment you had moved into was only a couple blocks away, which made things easier for you to just walk. the night shift was your only option when transferring, which you didn't necessarily hate but didn't love either. the first week was spent trying to adjust to total change in your sleep schedule and learning the ways of how they worked together in the ed. you were quick to get comfortable and relaxed as one possibly could in an emergency room. dr. ellis was quick to take you under her wing, always being one to question how you remained so positive in such a chaotic environment. you fit in nicely with the others as well, always coming in with a smile on your face and positive as ever.
there was only one you couldn't quite figure out yet. dr. abbot. the first time you saw him, goosebumps littered your skin. sure, you had crushes on boys in school but this was something totally different. hell, the man was old enough to be your father. it was the way he looked at you, eyes slightly darkened that had the hairs on your neck standing up and your heart beating fast. he didn't speak much to you at first, the pitt always too busy for him to stop and have an actual conversation before he was being rushed off to help elsewhere.
jack on the other hand was immediately drawn to you. the way your scrubs hugged every curve of your body just perfect, the way you were eager to learn and even more eager to obey anyone who asked you to do something, the way you would look up at him with your big doe eyes. 'get a grip, she's too young.' he would remind himself, constantly finding himself staring at you. he wondered what you would do after work, where would you go, did you have someone waiting for you at home? he was always so quick to praise you as well, always telling you how you are doing 'such a good job. such a good little nurse.' he could see the way his praises effected you. how your cheeks would turn a light pink, your hands moving to fidget with a finger, and how you would always thank him so politely.
he also quickly caught on to how innocent and naive you were. he could see the puzzled expression on your face whenever staff were gossiping about different sexual experiences, immediately catching on to the fact that you were more than likely a virgin. perfect. his to ruin. or the quiet 'how' that would leave your lips under your breath whenever a patient would come in with an injury due to some wild sexscapade. he would force himself to look away or even leave the room, trying his hardest not to get a hard on from your naivety.
shift had just changed over when you made your way to stand in front of the board of patients, a rather calm atmosphere filling the emergency department. your fingers were absentmindedly twirling one of your two braids between them as your eyes scanned down the list. it wasn't until someone came to stand beside you, arm brushing yours slightly and a clearing of a throat that pulled you from your trance. dr. abbot stood beside you, arms across his chest as he looked at the board. "good afternoon, dr. abbot," you spoke sweetly, eyes glancing down at his arms before back up to the side of his face, a warm smile on your lips. he had to to pretend he was actually reading, finally turning to look at you. "good morning, kid," he spoke gruffly, taking in how innocent you looked with your braids in. the things he would do to be able to yank them as he took you from behind. every time he spoke to you, you could feel the blood rush to your head, toes becoming numb. why was he having this effect on you? he noticed your quietness, watching as you looked back to the board with a blush that only made him stare at you harder. "you sleep well?" he spoke again, eyes trailing down to your waistband to peek at the sparkly pink badge clip that held your id.
a fast nod was all you could reply with, clearing your throat to finally look back at him. "this is pretty," he mumbled, finger reaching out to poke at the badge clip, both of you now looking down at it. "oh thank you, my mom got it for me," you said with a shy smile, cheeks now a tint of pink. gifts from mom? definitely no boyfriend. "you're too sweet for a place like this," was all he said, giving your id a tug before letting it slap back up to the clip, turning to walk to the desk and leaving you there with pink cheeks. too sweet? was that a complaint? a compliment?
the rest of shift was spent, worried that dr. abbott was mad at you or looked at you as less. which in his eyes you were. but that was how he liked you. beneath him. anytime you were pulled into a room to assist, you found yourself beginning to fumble with things more when he was around. your nervousness about impressing him was taking over and slightly affecting your work to the best of your ability. it wasn't till you had managed to drop a few things, his head snapping to look down at you as you scrambled to pick everything up. god, you looked so good like this. down on your knees in front of him. completely clueless. he stuck a foot out to step on one of the papers you were about to pick up, pinning it to the ground. "go. don't want you getting in the way," he spoke down to you, your eyes staring up at him wide. all you could do was clear your throat and stand up, hurrying out of the room.
it took everything in you to hold the tears back, feeling like you could sob any second for the rest of your shift at the way he looked at you. he was definitely mad. definitely thought you were stupid. all you were trying to do was make him proud. you had done everything possible to stay out of his way, although you could feel him watching you every second. watching your every move. waiting for your next mistake. when the end of shift had rolled around, you were rushing to pack your bag up and get out of there and on your walk home. jack noticed your hurry and sped himself up, shoving things in his back and pushing past robby with a "can't talk. got to go." he followed you out of the hospital, noticing you heading to the sidewalk instead of to the parking lot. "you walk?" you heard from behind you, the voice causing you to stop dead in your tracks and slowly turn around.
there he stood, one hand holding the strap of his bag over his shoulder, the other resting at this side. "uh yeah. i don't live too far from here," your voice came out as almost a whisper. good. she's scared now. too worried to say the wrong thing. he looked around as the other night shift crew started to make their way out, turning back to you. "let me take you home, sweetheart. you said its not that far, yeah?" he spoke, making his way to stand in front of you now, looking down at you with a grin. you couldn't help the way your gaze left his face and immediately went down to your shoes, too worried to look at him for too long in case your crying fit would start then. he was just being nice. just let him take you home. "okay," the word came out as a stutter, causing you to mentally punch yourself. he hummed and nodded, hand reaching out to press to the small of your back and nudge you gently towards his truck. god he wanted to ruin you.
cw: old perv jack, public masturbation, lowkey a piss kink sorry, panty stealing, panty sniffing
jack wasn’t afraid of many things, he’s done multiple tours, worked as a trauma surgeon while being shot at, had a leg amputated after he was involved in a bombing. but what did scare him was people finding out the perverted thoughts he has been having about you, the young, pretty peds doctor. he knew it was wrong, you were at least 15 years younger than him, full of light and warmth, but you make him feel like a horny teenager. one glimpse of you in your pink scrubs that somehow manage to highlight your curves has him half hard in his pants.
you quickly became the object of all his desires, porn mags dog eared at pages where the model looked suspiciously like you. legs opened with her hand covering her pussy as she lent backwards in pleasure. if he squinted hard enough, he could pretend it was you, laid out for him. he’d find himself locking the bathroom door at work and furiously pumping his cock while he muffles his groan with his fist just because you smiled at him.
it doesn’t help when you end up assisting him in the ER when a school bus gets involved in an accident, and all the elementary school kids have to get bought in. your so confident and assertive when telling the interns what to do it, and seeing you like that does not help his predicament.
“Dr Abbot?” He hears you say, just as you finish working on another child, and he looks up. “Are you alright for a moment? I really need to pee” he takes notice of how your bouncing slightly on the soles of your feet, legs squeezed together, a look of desperation on your face, and his cock throbs. be can’t stop thinking about how pretty you look when your desperate and he can’t deny the thought of saying no crossed his mind just to see you so squirmy and desperate for longer. he mumbles out a quick “sure” and you thank him gratefully as you rush off to pee. he locks himself in the bathroom later and cums to the thought of you wetting yourself in front of him, pink scrubs dark round your pussy, and how embarrassed you’d be.
he should feel guilty, he knows that, but he can’t bring himself to when he swipes a pair of panties from your overnight bag in the on call room. he leaves on time that morning, barley closing the door to his apartment before he’s shoving his hand down his boxers and your panties against his nose, he cums so hard he feels dizzy.
for now, this will be enough, but he prays to a god he long stopped believing in that one day, he’ll finally get his hands on you.
