Summary: All your friends know this isnt healthy, but neither of you can stop.
Pairing: Draco Malfoy x GN!Gryffindor!Reader
Word Count: 3.4k
Tags/Warnings: heavily implied smut, situationship, no use of (Y/n) or pronouns, open-ended, not proof read
“Let’s have fate decide,” His lips curl into a grin that seems to want to swallow you whole, and based on the way you lean into him, he just might. “Heads, we go to yours. Tails, we go to mine.” The music beats against your chest as you nod, lower lip pulled under your teeth, your eyes flickering to the golden coin laid in the center of his hand to his eyes, piercing green almost silver eyes boring in yours. His raised eyebrow lowers as the coin flips into the air, perfectly placed between the two of you and you sneak a peek as it falls back into his hand.
Your hand is on the counter, fingers running up and down your glass of the twins' concoction; a drink they swear will get you drunk but won’t wake up with a hangover. The condensation collects on your fingers in streaks that puddle on the coaster beneath it as he flips the coin into the back of his hand. Anticipation builds as his eyes leave yours while his hand pulls away, showing the face of the coin. Tails. “Yours,” You watch as he pockets the coin before he rises from the Ravenclaw couch, his arm dragging down the length of yours until you’re apart and his hand is outstretched towards you.
The people around you blur together as you take his hand, letting him lift you from the brown leather, leaving your drink and your rationale behind as you exit the crowded dorms and head down the winding staircase. You’re both stumbling through the halls, your shoes too loud on the cold stone floors, voices echoing in the empty halls the same way your friends' voices echo distantly in your head. They’re telling you that you’d given this up months ago, called whatever this is quits, stopped letting him drag you into beds, or walls, or desks, or the grass somewhere in the Forbidden Forest— anywhere either of you wanted.
Clean, is what they’d called the gap from the last time to this time that you’re following him down to the Slytherin common room. Like you’re relapsing when you kiss him first, your feet dragging up the stairs to his room. You know the path like the back of your hand from the sheer number of times you’ve taken it with your eyes closed. With his hands undoing the buttons on your clothes or slipping under your jumpers like they belonged on your skin.
You wanted them to, anyway.
Wanted them to touch you the way they are now, wanted him to look at you this way all the time, not just when your back is on his expensive sheets or when your legs cage around his hips. You also wanted to wake up and not rush to put your clothes back on, to wake up and smile at him, to move closer and have him welcome you into his embrace. Not to watch as you get dressed and leave without saying a word before he goes back to sleep. Even worse is that this time, he stayed asleep.
The only good thing was the fact that you did, in fact, feel sober now. No hangover, not even a small, lingering throb that comes whenever you go to one of the Quidditch-themed games; this time it was the pre-season games when the teams were officially made. Just the stupid walk of shame that comes as you leave the dungeon and enter the Gryffindor common room. It’s empty, save for someone sitting on the couch with their arms crossed and eyes facing the fire.
Your jaw clenches as you swallow, eyes shifting away from Hermione before she can look you up and down. She takes in your clothes; all of them are yours this time, and put on correctly. That’s one less thing she’d scold you about; although she’s not sure if she needs to, considering the way you’re shifting from leg to leg, and looking everywhere but her. “Malfoy?” She asks and you flinch; a part of you thought she’d think it was someone else. You hadn’t seen her when you left and only a handful of heads turned when you left. “It only took you two months before he shagged you again,”
“He didn’t—“
“You said it would be a million years, did you not? What’s that say about you?”
You bite your tongue before you look at her, eyebrows crossed. “We don’t have to get into what that says about me,” Her head tilts, the flame light shifts across her face and you can see her disapproving glare clearer now.
“We should,” Her voice doesn’t drop in edge in the way her face does. “We should talk about how you cried to us for a week when you told he used you,”
She watches the way your arms cross, how your hands ball into the fabric of your jumper, the way there’s a small shine to your eyes. “Maybe I like being used,” There’s a shrug but you’re not convincing. Her or yourself. “At least then I'm useful.” Hermione goes to talk, probably some rebuttal that’ll make the gloss in your eyes fall but you blink and turn away. “I'm going to bed… my head's killing me,”
She watches as you walk away, towards the staircase that leads to your dorm before she sighs, resting her hands in her hair.
—
“Malfoy, again?” Ron’s tone isn’t lost on you as the four of you walk down the hallway, briskly because, of course, you were trying to avoid this very conversation to the best of your abilities. “I thought we’d— you’d given up on him,”
“Thank you, Ronald, for your very well-needed input,” You huff, turning a sharp corner towards the staircase that leads to the Great Hall. “Anything else to add, Harry?” Glancing back, you see him giving Hermione an uncertain glance while she urges him to say something, anything really. Rolling your eyes, you face forward again and manage to stop yourself from stepping on air instead of the staircase that was moving away from you.
Great. Just what you needed, to be stranded on a platform with your friends.
“Well, you did say that you were done with Malfoy,” Harry says before looking away when you turn to face him with a sharp glare. Hermione swats his arm, telling him to stop being so afraid of you and he weakly apologizes before meeting your gaze. “If it’s just a shag you want, there are better people to do it with,”
You doubt it. “He’s a good shagger,” You mutter as you try to avoid the heat that’s creeping up your neck. “Knows my body very well.” One of them, Ron, gags from behind you.
“Malfoy and good shagger,” He lurches as if it pains him to say the words together. “Surely there’s better… like…” When his voice trails you know he can’t think of anyone. Possibly because it’s impossible for him to imagine anyone at Hogwarts in bed with someone, that or he’s agreeing with you. The first option is most likely the reason, all things considered.
The staircase comes back and you step down, continuing your pace on the way down. Hermione is hot on your tail, though. “Like Dean Thomas,”
You scoff, finding your way out of the stairwell without issue. “Trust me, he wasn’t,”
“You shagged Dean Thomas, too?” Ron’s eyes must be bulging out his eyes based on the way his voice sounds. Spinning on your heel, you face your friends, taking in their shocked gazes.
“So, when Mione says he’s a good shagger, there’s no objections and I tell you he isn’t, you object. And yes, Ronald, I did. Once. Last year; it was a… a party game,” The memories are hazy, all things considered but you do know that the two of you were inside of the a locked room at one point or another.
“Anyone else?” Harry cringes at the idea of his friend shagging anyone else, he doesn’t think he can even look Dean in the face again.
“Yes, Harry, your father actually. No— you idiot!” You smack his head when his face drops. “Just the two of them. So, stop judging me for fucks sake.” Turning, you continue on your trek to the Great Hall. Some food sounds good right now, it would shut them up and let you think for a moment.
Hermione walks after you, grabbing your arm to slow your pace. “No one is judging you,”
But they are and you can feel it; feel the way they look at each other, feel it in their tones. Judging you because you’re too easy because all it took was a couple of shitty drinks and them leaving from your earshot for Draco to pull you in and under him. Judging you because they were right or because you were wrong, you’re not going to end whatever this is with him. Because the last time this happened you had nearly gone mad, swore up and down, ranted and raved to them that you’d been stupid and you’d never do that again. And yet, you can remember the feeling of his hair on your neck, taste the way his skin did on your tongue from mere hours prior.
The Great Hall has most of the students seated and eating. It’s not loud like it is during dinner, but you find the faces from the party. Some of them are hungover, the ones who’d declined the twins tonic and the rest are chipper. Hermione's eyes drag to you as you head to the long table, you’d taken the tonic. Then she looks at Draco. He’s with his friends, his gaze finding yours when you pass by his group without looking at him or anyone in a green tie. There’s a smirk on his face before he says something to his friends and they laugh, knocking him around. It’s not hard to guess what he’s talking about.
“Bloody git,” Ron mumbles, dragging Hermione away from him and towards the table. Harry lingers a little longer than them, catching the way Draco’s laughter dies down and his eyes lock on your body. You’re not facing him. Normally, you sit to see his face but these past couple of months, it’s like you’ve taken a stand against him, sitting with your back facing him. Blaise says something and Draco looks away, distracted but answers all the same.
You’re fixing your plate, sort of wishing you did have a hangover, at least then you’d have a reason to be grumpy and not talk to anyone. Instead, you’re pulled into a conversation with Jimmy Peaker and Ritchie Cootie about the upcoming Quidditch game. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. First of the season for the two houses, at that. With Harry as captain, he’d given Ron the keeper title while you, Ginny, and Katie Bell were chasers. Plus, Jimmy and Ritchie were the beaters.
At least the conversation wasn’t… dull. You’d enjoy Quidditch and it was your final year, might as well end your sports career on a good note which meant winning. And especially this game. The first game for the entire school set the tone for the rest of the year, and with Urquhart as the current captain, you weren’t sure how the Slytherin team would fare. Especially after Malfoy stepped down from Seeker, replaced by Harper because, despite how bile seemed to rise from your throat from merely thinking it, Malfoy was a great Seeker. Slytherin’s best, no doubt.
Ritchie finishes his food in record time before he stands, ending the two-sided conversation you’d been roped into. “Well, see you at practice?” Jimmy had perked up at the mention of practice, eyes dreamily set on the windows, most likely picturing himself flying around, getting points. You take the opportunity to turn from them and focus back on your food. Your friends aren’t talking, Ron never does when he’s eating but Hermione and Harry are pushing their food with the back of their forks, looking pointedly at each other and then you. You notice, of course, and sigh into your goblet.
“See you lot at practice,” You sigh, pushing your plate away before leaving the Great Hall.
It’s colder, now that you’re entering November, and having Herbology as your first class of the day meant you’d walk through the morning chill bright and early. It’s nice, though. Wakes you up and you get to hear the sounds of the castle when it’s not filled with bumbling students or Peeves. Get to walk through the still dewy grass and watch as the animals scatter back into the forest when you get too close or they get spooked.
“You’re early,” His voice follows you inside the greenhouse, a pale hand extending to hold the door before you’ve let it go. You can smell him, his stupidly expensive hair gel and his cologne that he meticulously places each morning. Once on the wrist, rubbed three times, then walked into two full pumps. He catches the way you roll your eyes and pushes inside before taking your seat. He can picture your friends around you, Hermione to your left, Harry to your right, and Ron on Hermione’s free side.
When he sits and you don’t speak, he looks at you almost bored. “What have I done this time?” He sighs as if you were being petulant. “It certainly wasn’t last night, you made it clear I was doing more than great,”
“I’m simply not in the mood to talk with you,”
“Ah,” He nods, his eyes darting down to your lips. “I know how not to talk; especially with you,”
That pulls a hard scoff from you. “I don’t want anything from you, Malfoy!” It’s like your voice falls on deaf ears as he stands and rounds the long table to stand next to you. His hand travels up from your back, curling around your neck until it’s holding your chin before he lifts your head up to meet his gaze.
This is a bad idea. You can’t. Not here and not with him, not again.
Your chest rises and falls with the anger that flares through your body until it’s replaced with a deep heat as he kisses you stupid.
—
“This is a bad idea,” You breathe, hands pressed against his chest as you’re against a wooden pillar covered by a tarp. It’s roughly an hour before the first game of the year and you’d been on your way to the field when he pulled you behind the stadium. You’d let him, nearly smiled at the way his hand felt in yours before you pushed those feelings down, recalling how the last time you opened up about your feelings toward him went.
It’s almost like he doesn’t hear you but then he groans against your neck. “But a real good time,” He’s exploring your body as if he doesn’t know it by heart and you’re looking elsewhere, trying to convince yourself that this’ll be the last time. That this isn’t even a time for real, it’s just… fooling around. Bad idea after bad idea you can’t seem to stay away from him, maybe because you’re stupid maybe because it is a good time.
But you know that if your friends would see you that they’d make that stupid face, that they’d sigh because they hate that they’re right and you know that you can’t keep lying to yourself. That if his friends would see the two of you, they’d probably make jokes, laugh and pat his shoulder. Godric, your fingers tangle in his hair as you try and push those feelings away until the two of you walk away from each other; him to the stands and you to the locker room where Harry is going over the play.
He welcomes you with a nod and you settle into the back, fixing your uniform until it’s sitting properly on your body.
You worry that he knows; he has to, right? Your fingers curl around your broomstick, feeling the wood dig into your hands before you relax because even if he does, it’s fine. This is your (lack of) love life, you don’t interfere with his, never have and hopefully never will. Besides, Harry has good taste and you, apparently, do not. That much is obvious as you’re walking onto the field, announced by Zacharias Smith and see the way he and Ginny give each other reassuring hand squeezes. Even from down on the turf you can see Hermione cheering and Ron giving her a shy wave.
Shaking your head, you lift into the air to take your position across from the Slytherin team. Harry and Urquhart shake hands, still on the turf before Madam Hooch gives them the clear signal to join their team in the air. You catch Harry shaking his hand, wincing. Apparently Urquhart is known for his near-bone-breaking handshakes during games.
As the game starts, you’re doing your job— quite good you’d say, too. Chasing and passing the quaffle to your teammates, managing to score the most points by the time the half hour ended.
Panting, you checked the scores— 90-0, that’s great. Ron was doing amazing, too, blocking all of the scores Slytherin had gotten past the beaters. As you were flying back to formation you managed a glance at the green sea of students, finding Draco with his friends. He was one of the few students of his group who didn’t look peeved that his house was losing, which was certainly a first. He even nearly cheered when you managed another ten points.
You could hear Harry and Harper— the Slytherin seeker— bickering as you floated around. Harper was trying to provoke Harry, calling his friends names until he knocked into Harry who knocked into you. You’d nearly fallen from your broom but managed to pull yourself back upright, looking towards Hooch and Smith, bewildered that neither of them had caught the rule-breaking before huffing and shaking your head. Figures they wouldn’t catch it. As your eyes caught Draco in the stands again, you found his eyes narrowed and he was barking something at his friends, watching the game intently.
Ginny shouts your name and you’re pulled back into the game, catching the ball as it’s flying towards you. She flies ahead and before someone from Slytherin could intervene, you toss the ball back to her just as Smith announces that Harry had caught the Snitch. The two of you slow down on your brooms, stopping when you’re neck and neck before high-fiving and soon enough, the whole team crowded in a group hug. When you land, everyone’s arm in arm, cheering and waving at the adoring fans, it makes you laugh at the idea of your classmates being your fans.
The changing room was loud and rowdy, like most places were whenever Gryffindors were gathered too tightly. It was fun, you were loud with them, showing off the muscles you swore earned the hundred points until Ginny scoffed and showed off her guns. That began an arm competition and you caught a flash of blonde and green lingering at the entrance of the room. Forefitting, you quickly exit and walk around, following the green sweater until Draco stops and turns on his heel.
He crosses his arms, staring at you as if he’s about to accuse you of something and you’re going to tell him that you didn’t cheat, unlike his house when he speaks. “You did good,” That’s… new. A compliment that doesn’t come from some sort of innuendo. “That imbecile Harper didn’t injure you, I take it?”
“No,” He watches your head shake slightly, the way your eyes dip down and lips curl into something short of a smile and a frown. “No, I’m fine. He just knocked me a little,”
He tuts, unfurling his arms and tucking his hands into his back pocket. “Next time he knocks you, you knock some sense into that git,”
“Like Hermione did to you?” You grin until he nods without any sense of embarrassment or arrogance.
“Precisely— or harder, if you prefer.” Someone calls your name from the changing room and he looks at the entrance. “Congrats on your win. I’ll see you tonight,” The house party someone from the team is undoubtedly going to throw. You go to nod and walk away as you’ve always done at the end of your conversations when he takes half a step closer and leans in, giving you a slow kiss that leaves you stunned, watching as he walks away towards the school.
“You coming?” Ginny peers out and you turn, nodding. “Good, ‘cause Mione is asking for you.”
Hi! Saw your post. Can I request Damian Wayne x male reader that's the apprentice and adopted son of John Constantine? Just thought that the contrast between teen boy that's being raised by disciplined dad and teen boy that's being raised by chaotic dad would be funny.
Parallel Play
Summary: What could a Robin and a magician have in common?
Pairing: Damian Wayne x Male!Constantine!Reader
Word count: 1.1k
Tags/warnings: reader is adopted/a ward of john, nothing much
Studies on parallel play typically involve children from the ages of roughly eighteen months to four years old. To watch as the children exist in the same space while doing different activities, and it’s not typically mentioned past that stage in development, but it is, and this is a fact that everyone Damian cares about agrees to, that young adults and adults do also benefit from parallel play. It’s something he often does, enjoys,s and prefers it to having someone ruin his activity by sharing it or pestering him until he snaps and ruins the shared space. Parallel play is most definitely one of the better discoveries for child development.
Although his boyfriend calls it let’s ignore each other in the same room time, it has the same meaning.
You’re both hanging out in one of the various rooms that the House of Mystery has to offer; glad that the house has manifested so you didn’t have to deal with either of your oddly judgmental parents so you could have your lets ignore each other in the same room time in peace. Damian was in one half of the room, sword fighting against a sentient knight while you were in the other corner, trying to summon the list for the next three months of Crumbl Cookie— a treat you enjoy but Damian will wholeheartedly scoff at before buying you whichever cookie of the week you’d wanted.
“I’m seeing,” You pull a face, waving your hands around as if that would speed up the spell. Damian pretends to not care but he made a point of fighting the knight so he could see you. “Cookies and cream tres leche, cookie dough, vanilla crumb cake with Golden Oreos, French toast, monster with M&M’s, churro, and sugar cookie,”
He scrunches his nose for a moment before looking back at the sentient knight, blocking its attack just before it swung the sword down at him. “Sounds… sweet,” Something positive, he reminds himself, forcing something that can be taken either way because he knows your sweet tooth is bigger than your stomach can handle. “Which do you want?”
“Well,” Your voice goes dreamy as you start to explain that with seven cookies, you can realistically get one every day— two on Saturday since they’re closed on Sundays. He listens intently, eventually beating the knight as you’re still talking while starting to create a summoning circle to locate some item, homework from your guardian. Create a summoning circle and pull an item from somewhere in the universe. Each time you perform the spell the item should get bigger whether in size or quantity. It’s how you ended up with a limited edition Robin leatherman jacket; the same one you’re currently wearing. He still remembers when the company that made the line had to make another because they promised the public ten but could only find nine the week before the highly anticipated launch.
You’re like that often, a little spoiled, and Damian supposed he’s partly to blame for that fact. Him and Constantine; the man gives into nearly all of your whims and the ones he doesn’t, Damian surely does. It’s just… he has a hard time saying no to you. His eyes travel from the knight rearranging itself to you as you’re finishing up the last bit of the circle; a candy cigarette between your teeth and focused on getting the small details perfect. Piercings litter your ears, pure metals that shine in the candlelight and a lone lip ring in the middle of your lower lip. Some of them have carvings of protection that mirror the ones on his bracelet.
“To keep my boyf safe, duh,” You had rolled your eyes when he asked why you’d gifted him something so far from his birthday, your anniversary, and Christmas. Boyf, one of the few terms of endearment you’ve taken to call him that he cannot get behind. And he’s tried and tried. Thankfully, it’s not something you use often, it’s mainly when you’re joking around or want to peeve him in some form. The one time he’d called you ‘boyf’ back you’d laughed your ass off, literally falling off of the bed before apologizing and begging him to say it again. He refused, of course.
“What’re you summoning this time?” He takes a step back as the knight swings at him, focusing back on his training session.
“Uh, not sure.” You huff, staring at the circle. “D’ya think I could summon a crate of… like… vodka?”
He blinks, ducking under the metal blade while trying to come up with a response. Something better than his initial response Yes, but it’s stupid to do so. “Why would you need one?” He says, instead, nicer and more to the point than the first thing that came to mind. You shrug, lips pursed before looking at him, eyes taking him in as if it was your first time. He was sweaty, rounds of fighting this magic-infused knight clear on the white shirt he’d worn, the sweat that collected on the ends of his hair. “Why not a crate of juice?” Him speaking pulls your eyes back down to his face and you hum. That’s better, you guess. Safer. But, then again, you’re about to head back to college soon and having a shit ton of alcohol would definitely put you in several frat houses' good graces after your pranks.
Spring break was nearly coming to an end, Easter had come and passed— you’d gotten lovely easter baskets from several people— and while you weren’t dreading going back, you certainly didn’t want to. It was better here, traveling with John. In college, you sat through lectures and followed stupid rules, and had to hide your magic. The only plus was the solitude you and Damian had; time together, uninterrupted by his siblings or some type of demon. And the parties. The parties were always cool.
But even then, time with Damian was sparse. He was on the med track, which meant he was almost always studying— thankfully, the two of you figured out he could brush up on his anatomy using your body. You had a lighter load, majoring in theology; something you naturally called in and even if you didn’t, you were more than capable of finding the answers in the library John had amassed. Him or some of the countless occultists you knew and liked you enough to tell you things. There wasn’t much you could use Damian for; aside from hearing him speak in languages, pretending that you needed help reading certain passages.
You’ve been staring at him for longer than normal, you realize and look away, blinking towards the summoning circle. What’s bigger than a jacket that’s useful? Two jackets, maybe. But that would be boring and you hate boring. Damian sighs and you look at him, watching as he fights with himself before speaking. “Why don’t you summon the Wishbone tour merch? It was sold out when we went,”
“Oh, Dames!” You grin madly, standing up to perform the spell. “I knew you loved me!”
PAIRING ➢ jack abbot x Paediatric nurse! male reader
SYNOPSIS ➢ Stuck in student debts from your nursing school had you reaching out to more drastic measures, which meant signing up to be a sugar baby to none other than the Doctor Jack Abbot. Of course, you have no idea you’re working at the same hospital and thus never expect to meet up. However, it all comes to a head when you’re called down to the ER and sees a very familiar man in a SWAT uniform.
CONTENT WARNING ➢ no use of y/n, YEARNING, fluff, angst, panic attack (probably very incorrect), reader is mentioned to have muscles, age gap, jack calls reader ‘kid’, slightly ooc Jack, hurt then comfort, sexual innuendos, flirting, sexual tension, bad descriptions of hospital stuff
WORD COUNT ➢ 10.7 k [request]
AUTHORS NOTE ➢ as you can see, I absolutely RAN away with this although it is not exactly like the request, because the way the story flowed just worked out differently than what had been requested, but I hope I did it justice anyhow. I don’t like the end so much, because at that point I just wanted to be done with it, but hope it’s up to your standards anyhow!
MASTERLIST, TAGLIST
FEMALE DNI !!!
You had never meant for it to get anywhere, to be something other than a way for you to earn some extra cash alongside your work. Student debt was killing you, but that was nothing new. It was killing all of the other nurses, as well. Still, it would have been nice to afford a proper meal at least once a day.
You mentioned it to a buddy of yours who off handedly suggested you start selling feet pictures. He was joking, of course. You hoped he was.
But it got you thinking of another friend who had gotten a sugar daddy and was now living life without any worries of her student loans. Gods, you would have lied if you said you hadn’t been jealous. So you reached out to her and she directed you to the site she had used, which was an immediate shock. Here, you could see multiple entries posted by sugar daddies and mommies alike, all of them in various ages and requirements for their sugar baby. You hesitantly filled out your own profile to be put on the site so others could see you.
Suddenly, it seemed too much. You didn’t want to compromise yourself or your body just for money. No offence to those who do, but a pit in your stomach told you that it wouldn’t be worth it.
Before you had a chance to close the site, you had gotten a message.
Your eyes flitted to the edge of the screen, a small pop-up message showing that a ‘Jack’ had written to you. Curious despite yourself, you clicked on his profile. There was no picture, weirdly enough. You couldn’t blame him, though, as you had also chosen to refrain from using a picture. You didn’t want any random people finding you or recognising you. Your name, you could handle people knowing, but your face was uniquely yours. You supposed this Jack felt the same way, or according to his message, he did.
JACK
You also hesitant of these websites?
You paused, looking at his profile again. He had the ‘Sugar Daddy’ status, but nowhere did it say he was requiring anything sexual from you. It couldn’t hurt to reply, could it, right? Your fingers typed on your keyboard before you even had the chance to think about it.
YOU
Yeah, is it that obvious?
He responded immediately, and it almost made you chuckle. This guy must really want to write with you.
JACK
Takes one to know one, I suppose.
YOU
What?
Sceptical and cynical?
JACK
You could say that.
YOU
What are you doing here then?
JACK
My therapist said I needed a hobby.
YOU
Funny.
JACK
I’ve heard I have a great sense of humour.
YOU
You’re not at all what I was expecting from a man on this site.
JACK
What were you expecting?
A creepy guy only wanting to jack off to younger men?
YOU
Kind of, how do I know you’re not one of those creepy guys?
JACK
For one, I am not asking for anything like that.
I respect whatever your wishes are.
YOU
What are you asking for then?
JACK
Company I guess.
YOU
What, the people in your life aren’t company enough?”
JACK
What is this, a job interview?
YOU
Well, kind of.
Since I am the one who will get paid in this.
JACK
Touché.
But then shouldn’t I be the one asking the questions huh?
YOU
Guess you’re right, but it’s so much more fun if I am asking them.
JACK
Fun for you maybe.
YOU
Exactly.
JACK
Okay. To be honest, I guess I’m a bit lonely.
I don’t have a lot of time for people outside of my work and when I’m working all I’m thinking about is, well, work.
YOU
So you are still working? What do you do?
JACK
Of course, how old do you think I am?
YOU
Do you honestly want me to answer that?
JACK
Now that’s just rude.
And I’m a doctor.
Pays pretty well you know.
YOU
That’s impressive.
What position?
JACK
Attending physician at the ER.
Not a lot of people ask for what position you work as when you say you’re a doctor.
You in the medical field yourself?
YOU
Hmmm, I’m not sure I should tell anything personal about myself to a stranger.
JACK
I told you, man.
YOU
Well maybe you have less self preservation than I do.
And here I thought with age comes wisdom.
JACK
Good one.
Maybe I want to get to know you.
YOU
I hope you know that no matter wherever this goes, we will never actually meet.
JACK
Wasn’t counting on it.
Like you said, I’m only a stranger.
And like I said, I respect your wishes, whatever they are.
YOU
And you’re willing to pay me to just talk to you? Nothing else?
JACK
Yeah, nothing else.
I promise.
YOU
It seems too good to be true.
Why?
JACK
Listen kid, I respect how careful you are.
The truth is I don’t have anything good to else spend it on and I like taking care of people.
Probably why I’m a doctor.
YOU
Sounds about right.
But why me specifically?
Unless you have a group of younger guys you’re entertaining on the side?
JACK
Oh god no.
You’re the only one.
YOU
I must be special, then.
JACK
Kinda.
I mean you are the only one I’ve properly written to on this website.
You seem interesting.
YOU
If you are trying to flatter me then you’ll have to come up with a better compliment than that.
JACK
If I’m the one paying you shouldn’t you be the one complimenting me?
YOU
Maybe when I find something worthy to compliment.
JACK
You’re funny.
YOU
I try.
Listen, I hate to cut this short but I gotta go to work.
JACK
Wait before you go.
Give me your Venmo info.
YOU
Why?
JACK
How else do you expect me to send the money?
Now come on.
YOU
Well, thank you.
JACK
It’s my pleasure, kid.
Until next time.
You watched with awe as you get a notification from Venmo that five hundred dollars had been deposited into your account. This guy must really want this agreement with you to spend that much only on the first conversation. You weren’t one to complain, however, as you could finally treat yourself to a good meal. Thank fuck to whoever this Jack was, and thank fuck that your friend had set you up with the site.
Over the next few days, you got to know him better as you conversed. You had told him that you worked in paediatrics as a nurse, and you learnt that he worked nights, which left you little option when to message him, mostly before your shift, when his was ending, and after yours, when he had just woken up. He was easy to talk to and you enjoyed his sarcastic humour.
And he kept his promise, never pressuring you into doing anything more. However, you had noticed that Jack would occasionally address you with something that wasn’t strictly platonic but also not forthcoming enough to be discernible as flirting. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t flirting back.
It was simple and he was easy-going, and charming. Whatever ego Jack has, he wore it real well. He was cocky but not arrogant, and a little self-deprecating. And gods did he know how to bring a stupid smile to your face. Your conversation flowed easily enough that you didn’t even have to think about what to respond to him.
You still couldn’t help but wonder why he had chosen to talk to you, out of all the other applicants, who actually were willing to do more than platonic stuff.
You chose to ask him that a week later, one night after your shift, when you had arrived home and successfully crashed on your bed.
YOU
I still can’t really get over why you chose to talk to me specifically.
I mean, I’m sure there are lots of other guys vying for your attention?
His reply came only a few minutes later. He had told you that he worked nights, so you guessed he was writing to you in between patients.
JACK
I wouldn’t be so sure about that.
And none are anywhere near as interesting as you.
YOU
Still, my point stands.
JACK
Are we not done with the twenty questions yet?
Thought I showed I was serious about this arrangement.
YOU
OK, that’s fair.
I’ll stop.
JACK
You are terrible at letting up control.
Let me take care of you.
YOU
I just feel bad because I’m getting so much from this and all you’re getting is sucky conversation from me.
JACK
You better step it up then, kid.
I told you I’d be expecting compliments.
YOU
Wow.
JACK
I’m only pulling your leg.
Don’t sell yourself so short.
You’re really great.
I enjoy talking to you.
YOU
Thank you.
I also enjoy talking to you.
JACK
Look at that, I knew you could take a compliment.
I’m proud.
You couldn’t help the small smile that spread across your lips. Damn Jack and his easy charm.
YOU
Maybe because this one was actually good.
JACK
There’s more where that’s coming from.
YOU
Shut up.
JACK
Unfortunately I don’t know how to.
YOU
Damn, guess I’m stuck with you then.
JACK
Guess you are.
YOU
It’s not the worst thing in the world.
JACK
High praise.
You really know how to warm a guy’s heart.
YOU
What can I say? I’m a charmer.
JACK
Oh I bet you are.
He was just so effortless in the way he spoke and complimented you that hadn’t you previously agreed to keep this professional between you two, you would have seriously thought there were something between you. The thought didn’t exactly displease you. Of course, you had no way of knowing if he even wanted more. His profile was suspiciously empty of any sexual wishes for his sugar baby and he had said he wasn’t expecting anything of the sort. Maybe he was the one who didn’t want anything non-platonic and was just acting under the guise of respecting your wishes to stay professional. Maybe you were the one who was going too far, flirting and acting this casual with him, perhaps even making him uncomfortable.
Fuck, the thought filled you with dread. Not only because you’d grown to care about Jack over the past couple of weeks enough to worry about making him feel uncomfortable, but also because this was technically supposed to be a business agreement. He was your client and you were making money from this. The agreement had been clear and you couldn’t let Jack’s personality lead you astray from that.
He had wanted company and conversation. It wasn’t his fault that it happened to make something stir within you, just by him being himself. You cursed yourself for letting yourself get in the way of yourself. Jack’s a good guy, genuinely caring and thoughtful, and he wanted to take care of you, so you couldn’t let anything ruin that what you had.
He just made it so fucking hard when he was such a gentleman.
YOU
Hey, is there any possibility I could get an advance on this week?
The notification of your Venmo came before the notification of Jack’s reply and you inwardly cringed of how readily he sent you the money, without a second thought even. You knew he made more money than he had use for and was more than happy to spend it on you, but his willingness to help you still made your heart skip a beat.
JACK
Of course.
What gives?
YOU
Just got in a bit of a bind.
Needed the money quickly.
JACK
Anything more I can do to help?
YOU
You don’t have to do that, you know.
JACK
Do what?
YOU
You know, care so much.
JACK
How do you mean?
YOU
This is a professional relationship and you’re technically my client, Jack.
Please feel no obligation to do any more than you want to.
JACK
Well then, I want to.
Simple as that, kid.
You rubbed a hand over the bridge of your nose, sighing in frustration. How was it that Jack managed to solve your problems that easily at the same time as he caused new ones? Because how were you supposed to maintain a professional relationship with him when he went around saying shit like that? He both infuriated and made you joyous at the same time.
Any hope of avoiding any growing feelings would have meant to avoid talking to Jack altogether, but that was impossible since your agreement meant literal conversation, and because Jack was impossible not to talk to. You kept your back and forth, messages sent between shifts and breaks, whenever you had the time over the next month. When you needed him, he was always there.
YOU
Hey do you have a minute?
You don’t have to pay me for it.
JACK
Of course, is everything okay?
YOU
Yeah, I just needed a distraction.
JACK
And you came to me? I’m flattered.
YOU
Shut up.
JACK
Wouldn’t dream of it.
Are you sure you’re alright?
YOU
No. I’m not.
I lost a patient at work today. A kid.
I guess it just hit me heavier than I thought.
JACK
Hey that’s nothing to be ashamed of.
We’ve all had those days where things feel a bit too tough to handle.
You just gotta remember that none of this is your fault.
You did the best you could but sometimes that isn’t enough.
YOU
I know you’re right but it’s hard not to feel like this one is on me.
JACK
I know you are terrible at letting up control but you gotta trust me on this.
All you can do is focus on the medicine.
The medicine is the only thing that saves the patient.
And your sanity.
You are excellent and there was nothing more you could do.
YOU
Thank you, Jack.
It means a lot coming from you.
JACK
Anytime.
Remember to breathe and try to take it easy.
Even nurses deserve breaks you know.
YOU
And god do we need it.
I’ll try, but with the way people are getting hurt I can’t see me getting a break anytime soon.
JACK
I hear you there.
Hey I sent a little something as a pick-me-up. Enjoy it.
YOU
I told you you didn’t have to do that.
JACK
And I told you that I want to take care of you.
Accept it and shut up.
YOU
Sir, yes, sir.
It felt good to confide in someone like this. He could relate to the feelings and trauma that came with working at a hospital; that, sure, you saved and helped a lot of people, but you weren’t magicians. There were bound to be people you couldn’t save. Every hospital worker learnt not to take it personally,
Like Jack, you worked a lot of long shifts after each other, rarely having a free day for yourself. It didn’t exactly allow you to socialise or make friends with a lot of people outside of your work. You supposed you and Jack had that in common.
He, however, liked to keep much busier than you. Since he worked nights, you had figured he would sleep most of the day, but no, he was just as quick to respond to your messages during the day as he was in between your shifts. You started to suspect that he didn’t sleep much, since he had also mentioned he usually tries to keep tabs on the police scanner he owned in case of any emergency. You had asked if he had anything outside of saving lives to keep him busy and he had suspiciously avoided the question with a clever quip. So, you decided not to push it, allowing him to share however much he wanted to with you.
Eventually, you exchanged numbers with him, when you felt that you were more comfortable with him. Despite yourself, you had grown to trust this man, with his easy remarks and charm, disregarding all the safety measures surrounding strangers your mum had drilled into you since an early age. Jack wasn’t just a stranger anymore, but someone who you could confide in, trust with your doubts, and who could easily cheer you up with a simple message.
JACK
Buy yourself something pretty alright?
You smiled when you saw the text, currently out shopping for things you needed. However, he changed that, and you decided to go get something you wanted. A nice top that fit your torso nicely. You took a quick picture in the dressing room, showing how the shirt wrapped around you, accentuating your muscles. Your face was still hidden, however, so you figured it would be safe to send to Jack.
YOU
[ATTACHMENT: 1 Photo]
This pretty enough?
JACK
Very.
That caused a smile to spread across your lips. You weren’t sure if he intended for it to have the effect on you that it did. It felt like he was flirting, but it could also be part of his natural charm. You didn’t want to be the guy who misinterpreted every interaction and thought he was into you when he wasn’t so you didn’t dare say anything. But you couldn’t help but play along.
Especially when you started calling, two and a half months in, and you heard his voice for the first time.
“Hey.” He said it almost like a whisper and he sounded almost out of breath, as if he was nervous? That couldn’t possibly be the case, however. You were probably just imagining it.
“Hey, Jack.”
Fuck, his voice was amazing. It was all melodic and low, sounding as if it came from deep in his chest, a light rumble to it. You couldn’t help but imagine all the things that voice could tell you.
“Feels weird actually talking now that we’ve been writing for so long, huh?” he said, and you nodded subconsciously.
“Weird is one word for it,” you agreed with a light chuckle.
“Don’t tell me you’re regretting it now,” came his quick reply.
You scoffed. “No, fuck, that’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean then?” he asked. Perhaps you were imagining it, but you thought you could hear a teasing tone to his voice, almost as if he knew exactly what you meant but wanted you to hear it for himself.
“You know, you’re just as annoying to talk to as you are in writing.” Despite your words, a small smile formed across your lips.
“So I’ve heard.”
“It’s a wonder I’m still talking to you,” you muttered.
“And every day I thank God for that.”
You tilted your head, frowning. He didn’t peg you for a religious man, but you never knew. “You’re religious, Jack?”
“Not one bit.”
“Hmm.”
“Have I told you you have a very pretty voice?” Jack asked, a sweet roll to his voice. It was the most beautiful thing you had heard and you were sure he was aware of it.
That made something in your stomach flip. Stop it, you were scolding yourself. Jack had been the one that told you that what the two of you had was strictly platonic and professional. He was respecting your wishes, and you had to respect his. Still, with the way he was speaking to you, it was difficult to keep your heart in check.
“You have not, no,” you breathed out, careful not to let your voice shake with nervousness.
“Okay.”
“Aren’t you going to?”
“Hmm, maybe.”
“God, you’re an ass,” you said, laughing lightly.
“I like to refer to it as my charm.” God, he sounded smug. Somehow that made him even more attractive.
“Hmm, don’t know if I would call it charming.” Yes, you would. But no way were you going to admit that to Jack.
“I would.”
“I know, Jack.”
You heard how he took a deep breath on the other side of the call, the silence being filled by his slow exhale, before he spoke. “You know, I do love hearing you say my name after all this time.”
You weren’t sure how to respond to that except for with a witty remark, “Sure you do,” effectively letting the matter drop.
———
Jack was a busy man.
Anyone who knew him knew that, and there weren’t a lot of people who did know him for that matter. You had been recently added to that list, with the amount of time he spent texting and calling you.
He liked to work as much as he could, usually sticking to the night shifts but occasionally taking on a double or jumping in during the day when he was needed. And even when he was free, he liked to stay at home listening to the police scanner he had or going with his buddy’s SWAT team as their field medic. He liked to do as much as he could. Robby had called it an addiction of his.
Jack knew he was right, and so was his therapist when he had told him that he needed to find something else outside of work and outside of SWAT. He also realised that he was lonely, because all the people he conversed with were tied to those two.
He knew he didn’t need a lot, but someone who he could bond with outside of it and perhaps care for. Ever since the death of his wife, he had missed having someone to take care of. He had a ton of disposable income that did nothing but collect interest in his bank account so he might as well spend that on someone, he thought. He knew that he’s not in the right place to meet someone the old fashioned way, and after seeing an advert for sugar babies, he went that route.
Jack felt hesitant to do that, though. It felt perverted to use his money to require sexual favours of a younger person, like he saw other sugar daddies and mommies do on the website he had found. Could he put in no requirements to his page? All he wanted was company and conversation to feel less lonely. That’s why he didn’t see a point in putting a photo up either. Since he didn’t want someone to talk to him merely because of his looks, but rather someone who could match him in conversation.
That’s when he found you, a younger man who seemed decent enough based on his profile, but it was hard to tell because like him, you had no profile picture. You had also specified that you would not engage in any sexual activities as your role of a sugar baby, so he thought he might as well shoot you a message. It couldn’t hurt, right?
From the very first message, Jack found himself interested in you. You matched him easily in his banter, had fun quips ready to respond to his, and he found that he had fun talking to you. Despite the unnatural arrangement of him paying you for conversation, it felt weirdly natural between the two of you.
As time went on, your messages developed from the regular get-to-know conversations to more banter and comments that bordered on flirty. Jack couldn’t ignore it, the pull he felt towards you, and he couldn’t help but indulge in it. It was just too easy to compliment you, or tease you, because your personality drew him in with something he hadn’t felt in a really long time.
He found himself telling you things he didn’t tell a lot of other people, some things even Robby didn’t know about. Jack told you about his past; his time as a war physician, his leg that had gotten amputated, his late wife. You took it all in stride and somehow it didn’t feel awkward after he’d told you, like it did with most people, but he rather felt much lighter in the chest. However, he did not tell you about his problems sleeping, at keeping the trauma at bay, because he didn’t want to worry you. In truth, he didn’t want to be a bother.
It was ironic that he wanted you to be able to rely on him, so he could take care of you, but he was afraid of being a burden to you. So, instead, he usually sent you small comments each day, updates about his shifts or his coworkers, or just little observations about you. He could talk to you for hours if you’d let him.
You had told him about starting a new job soon. You’d still be a paediatric nurse, but it was in a new hospital because your last one hadn’t treated you so well, is what you had said. You hadn’t shared which hospital it was, and Jack hadn’t pried. It wasn’t like he wasn’t curious, because he was—when it came to you, he wanted to know practically everything he could—but he didn’t want to force any information you weren’t willing to give up. And you had made it clear that you weren’t ever going to meet, so what was the point? He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t the slightest bit of disappointed by that fact, but he refused to let it cloud his relationship with you.
It got you talking about your jobs one afternoon, almost three months in.
JACK
I don’t think I could ever do pedes.
I tried it during my MS days, but it’s way too boring for me.
YOU
Hey, watch your words, old man.
JACK
Oh I know you’re not calling me old man, kid.
YOU
Keep running your mouth and I will keep calling you that.
JACK
Okay, sorry. It’s way too…
Advanced for me.
YOU
OK, now you’re just being patronising.
JACK
Alright, let’s just say it’s not for me.
Don’t get me wrong, I do like kids.
But there’s something about how busy the ER gets that keeps me coming back.
YOU
And that’s fine.
I love pedes because it’s so much calmer. The ER stresses me out.
And well, kids can be really sweet.
It’s just like night shifts are not for me.
They sound brutal, I don’t know how you do them.
JACK
My therapist thinks I find comfort in the darkness.
I like nights. Don’t you?
YOU
OK Batman.
I like sleeping through them.
JACK
I can’t argue with that.
YOU
Damn right you can’t.
I’m sorry, Jack, no matter how much I like you my bed will always be my #1.
His heart skipped a beat at that. You liked him, you had said. Then he shook his head, mentally berating himself. No, you had merely meant platonically that you liked him—nothing more than that. You had made it painfully clear that you wanted this relationship to stay professional, despite his unconscious attempts at flirting. He couldn’t help it! You were just too easy to compliment.
JACK
That’s hurtful, you know?
YOU
You can handle it.
JACK
I’m not so sure, I might need some reassurance now.
YOU
I think you’re being a baby.
But, sure.
[ATTACHMENT: 1 Photo]
What you had sent had Jack choking on a breath, his eyes flitting over the phone screen in rapid movements. He could feel the beating of his heart as he took in the view before him. What you had sent him was a picture of your chest, your skin revealed by the top buttons of your shirt being unbuttoned, and your throat adorned by a silver chain. It wasn’t even that revealing—Jack saw plenty of undressed guys at work every night—but something about the thought of you posing for him to see this made his stomach tighten.
JACK
You must be an amazing nurse because I’m suddenly all better.
Maybe he had read you wrong—or, well, right. Maybe you did want something more with him, despite what you had said. Or, were you only sending that because you felt pressured by him? Oh god.
He rubbed a hand over his neck, closing his eyes. Had he been too forward, too much? Had he made you feel so uncomfortable you felt you had to play along with him in order to still receive the money? The knot in his stomach wasn’t from happiness anymore, but now from worry. He silently cursed himself. You had made it so clear to him and still he kept walking that line between flirtatious and platonic because he couldn’t keep his damn feelings in check. Sure, he was a flirt by nature, but you managed to draw it out of him so easily, and he wanted to with you.
Jack decided to try to keep himself in check from now on, despite how difficult it would be.
———
Today was the day: the day you started at your new job.
You were slightly nervous, seeing as this hospital seemed much better than your last and you really wanted to keep this job, so you couldn’t fuck up. Despite their ER being nicknamed ‘The Pitt’, you were impressed by their stats and by the few members of staff you had met at your interview. And besides, you weren’t going to be working in the ER, but in the paediatrics department.
A message from Jack and you smiling at your phone. Somehow, he knew you would be nervous for this without even having to tell him anything. That’s how well he knew you.
JACK
Hey kid, good luck today.
I know you’ll knock it out of the park.
YOU
Thank you, Jack.
The message ended up not being needed, since your first day went swimmingly. You decided against telling Jack that, though, because any praise or encouragement was more than welcome from him.
To be honest, anything he sent was more than welcome. Usually it was banter, a flirty comment here and there that never failed to put a smile to your face and made you question the nature of your relationship, or some updates from his work and the occasional gossip about his colleagues. Sometimes it were heavier things, like things from his past that made you frown with sympathy for him, because no one deserved to have gone through all that. But it never got heavier than that.
That’s why it came as such a surprise when he called you in the middle of the day when you were at work, his breathing uneven and words clipped with a cadence that you didn’t usually hear from him.
“Hey, I— I’m sorry, it’s… fuck!” he started, then coughed. “I’m bothering you—”
You immediately put down what you were doing, rushing to go into an empty room. “You’re not bothering me, what’s up?”
“I—I just, fuck. I can’t—” He was breathing heavier now, sounding as if he was gasping for air but unable to take any in.
“Oh shit, Jack. Jack, listen to me. Just breathe. Hey, focus on me,” you tried, calming your voice to the one you usually used for patients in distress. Jack needed you, and that was all you needed to know for you to enter a deep state of focus.
“I can’t breathe, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” you interrupted him. “Listen to me, I know you can do this. Just focus on my voice. Breathe in…and breathe out. Slowly. And again. In… and out…”
There were several minutes of silence, the only sounds being Jack’s breathing on the other side of the line. They were ragged, heavy and deep, with quiet sobs accompanying them every once in a while. You waited patiently, a steady presence for him to lean on. You only wished you could do more for him.
When the breathing had gotten quieter on his end you dared speak again. “Jack, how’re you doing?
“Uh, better. Not great.” His voice sounded like full of gravel, thick with unshed tears and sobs that he seemed to be choking down.
“Okay, that’s something,” you said. You took a breath before asking, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Jack sniffled. “I, uh, had a pretty bad dream. From the war.”
Ah.
“I was back there, and, um, I was getting shot at and, uh, shit, and—” His voice was getting unstable again, his words quivering as he got worked up again. You interrupted him before he had the chance to.
“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to explain more,” you said.
You heard a small laugh come out of him. “I just, fuck, all I could think about when I woke up was you.”
His voice sounded pained and heavy with memories of his time as a soldier and you could only imagine the trauma he carried with him from it. A stab of pain shot within you in empathy for him. A sudden urge to be there, physically, with him to be able to hug and hold him better.
“Listen, Jack, it’s OK,” you said, trying to stop any oncoming protests from him.
It didn’t work. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I know this is far beyond what our agreement was—”
“I don’t mind, seriously. I like being here for you.” You said the last part especially slow so that he could really understand how much you meant those words. You don’t even think you had known how much you meant them before that moment, but now you did.
“Oh, thank God.” He let out a relieved laugh, before sucking in a breath. “Don’t know what I would’ve done if you turned me down.”
A smile spread across your lips. “I would never do that.”
He cleared his throat and let out a small laugh. “I think I’m good to go now. I need to try to get some more sleep, and you should… go back to work?” His words were clipped and dismissive, as if he wasn’t telling the entire truth.
You frowned, but nodded. “Are you sure? Please, I don’t want you saying that just to not worry me.”
“I— thank you. But I am seriously alright,” Jack said, and you chose to believe him. “I’ll send the money later. Thank you.”
That made you pause. “Don’t you dare,” you said quickly.
“What?” came his shocked reply.
“Jack, you know I care about you,” you said, your shoulders relaxing. Did you really need to spell it out for him? “Let me be here for you, without the money.”
There was a small moment of quiet where you feared he wouldn’t respond. When he did, his voice was smaller, somehow. “Okay—I will talk to you later?”
“I can’t wait,” you chirped, smiling.
———
Jack was confused.
The way you had spoken to him and cared for him, without the expectation of money, made him feel all warm inside and as if your relationship had grown outside of your agreement. Maybe it wasn’t such a crazy thought to have. Jack found himself smiling more since he had begun talking to you and even imagining meeting you in real life, despite that you had said that would never happen on the very first day. He had to respect your wishes, because he was nothing if not a gentleman.
No longer was he only losing sleep because of the nightmares from the war, but he also found himself thinking about you. When he closed his eyes, all he could think about was how you would look and all he could hear was your voice, talking to him in that sweet way of yours. It kept him up, thinking about you, but he found that he didn’t mind one bit. Especially as it seemed that you were just as eager to talk to him as he was to talk to you.
YOU
I’ve been thinking.
JACK
Should I be worried?
YOU
Thinking about you.
JACK
Okay now that sounds more promising.
Can’t say I don’t think about you either.
YOU
I’m relieved to hear that.
Well, I’ve been wondering what you look like.
JACK
Wow is my sparkling personality not enough?
You need to see my handsome face as well to satisfy your needs?
YOU
I don’t know if I would describe your personality as sparkling.
JACK
You didn’t deny about the handsome face part.
YOU
I haven’t seen it yet so I can’t really judge, can I?
That was sorta the point.
JACK
No you don’t want to see this old face.
Surely it’s got nothing on yours.
YOU
I wouldn’t be so sure.
What Jack, are you shy?
JACK
I don’t get shy.
YOU
Time to put your money where your mouth is, then.
I’ve heard your voice and if you look anything like how you sound I’m sure I won’t be disappointed.
A warmth that had nothing with the actual temperature in his apartment spread across his body, feeling it colour his cheeks. How could you say those sort of things and not expect them to affect him? There was no way you weren’t aware at this point, but the thought that you were aware and still did it made his cheek grow even warmer. Fuck, what were you doing to him? And he hadn’t even seen you or met you! Not that he would ever do the latter thing, anyway.
JACK
Jeez I knew you were a charmer but not like this.
YOU
That isn’t a no.
JACK
Fine.
But only if you also send a photo of yourself.
This is an equal partnership you know.
YOU
That sounds fair, but you first since I asked first.
JACK
If you insist.
[ATTACHMENT: 1 Photo]
It felt as if the beating of his heart thundered in his throat as he stared at the three dots on his screen. Despite his usual confidence, Jack was scared. He knew that he was good looking, if all the comments he had received over the years was anything to go by. But he felt an unusual sense of nervousness at the thought that you would finally see what he looked like and reject him—which was ridiculous, but still he couldn’t help it. He wanted so badly for you to think he looked good, because the alternative was too scary.
YOU
You have freckles.
JACK
How did you know that’s exactly what I wanted to hear?
YOU
Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting it.
It suits you.
JACK
Thanks? I hope.
YOU
Yes, it’s a compliment.
Thought you wanted more of them. Now take it.
JACK
Wow bossy.
I kind of like it.
YOU
What can I say?
I have many sides.
JACK
I can’t wait to see them all.
Now you go.
YOU
Since you asked so nicely.
[ATTACHMENT: 1 Photo]
Can’t wait to hear all your compliments now.
Fuck, Jack thought as he stared at the photo you had sent. He felt the threads that kept him together so carefully start to unravel, because it couldn’t be, could it? But he knew he was lying to himself, trying to convince himself that what he was seeing wasn’t true. There was no doubt about it, it was you. The same nurse he had caught a glimpse of in the hallways a few days ago at the Pitt. He had thought you were handsome, his eyes following your movements, and of course Robby had teased him about it.
But now that it meant that the guy he had been talking to and grown closer with over the better part of three months, who he was effectively dreaming and thinking about every free moment he had, who could put a smile to his face much easier than anybody else he knew, and who he had made peace with never meeting, was the same guy he was looking forward to seeing on the rare chance he’d come to the ER. Which meant that you could be meeting, which he was sure you did not want. Sure, you could have been flirting with him this entire time, but you had made it painfully clear that you did not want to meet up.
YOU
Jack?
Hello?
OK, I was only joking, you know?
Fuck, what was he supposed to do with this now? He couldn’t ignore you and he couldn’t lie about the fact that he knew you worked at the same hospital as him.
A reminder popped up on his phone that his SWAT shift was starting soon and he cursed. He didn’t have time to think through what to say to you, but figured he would respond later when he was free. Jack thought that he could use the time on his shift to figure out what to respond with.
———
Fuck.
That was the first thought that flew through your mind.
First it had been because of finally seeing Jack’s face because, unfortunately, he was unfairly attractive despite his older age. Second, it had been because he wasn’t responding to any of your messages.
What the fuck was Jack thinking, leaving you on seen like that? You had sent your picture, just like he had, and then he didn’t respond? Did he not know the effect he had on you? This was something that could easily send you spiralling, and it would have, had you not been called in for work.
It was looking to be a busy 4th of July, but without any other plans you might as well work and earn some extra pay. If nothing else, it would also keep your mind off of Jack and his lack of reply.
You had finally seen the looks of him and he was the very picture of handsome silver fox, someone you would dream about had you met them for real. The fact that the sarcastic and funny guy you had gotten to know the last three months was someone this good looking sent your mind spiralling somewhere too far for you to reach right now.
So, you did the only thing you could: put on some gloves and got to work.
You had been right, it was a busy day. Other than the normal chaos of a holiday, it was unusually hot today and Westbridge hospital had been closed down as well, so the PTMC was taking the brunt of it. It was difficult to keep track of everything amidst the chaos. A the beginning of your shift, you had gotten a call from the ER that they had a baby Jane Doe who needed tending, and despite your dislike for the ER you had gone down to check on her every once in a while throughout the day.
However, as you went down slightly after 12 PM, you were met with a sight you had not expected. You had just checked on the baby when you went to the reception to talk to Princess. Despite not working in the ER, it was difficult not to become friends with the other nurses here, as they were more than chatty and sometimes friendly..
A team in army uniforms, ‘POLICE’ written over their chests, rushed inside from the ambulance bay with a gurney carrying another one of them between them all. A figure you recognised as Dr. Robby moved to them immediately, looking to the man who was holding the ventilator balloon to the patient.
You followed his gaze and swore your heart stopped.
He was rattling off the words, looking increasingly stressed. “Intubated neck wound, sats not great. We were diverted here.” Then he turned to the reception, and you hoped against everything that he wouldn’t notice you. Luckily, he seemed to only briefly glance up and shout, “Is there a trauma room open?”
Princess pointed to a room to the right. “Trauma 1,” she replied.
As they all went into the trauma room, you felt your breath return to somewhat normal, the initial shock settling for something else. You had to be seeing things, right? It couldn’t be him.
But however much you tried to convince yourself, you knew you were wrong. Despite only having seen one picture of him, you knew you would recognise that man anywhere. It was the same salt and pepper curls, the same faint constellation of freckles smattered over his face, and that same voice. The voice you had so often heard on your calls with him and more often than not in your dreams about him, as well. And the fact that he was dressed in a SWAT uniform. It all checked out. There was no doubt on the matter. It was Jack.
You still had to make sure, however, so you turned to Princess and cocked your head to trauma room 1. “Who the fuck is that?” you asked.
She tilted her head to the side. “Who?”
“The guy in the military uniform.”
Her answer confirmed both your worst fears and your greatest hopes. “Oh, that’s Dr. Jack Abbot. He’s the attending on the night shift.” She glanced at your face, smirking smugly. “Smoke show, right?”
“Right. OK. Fucking great.” You nodded, absentmindedly, before turning to go back upstairs.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
You swore inwardly with every step that you took up the stairs. What were the chances, out of all the hospitals in America, or even in Pittsburgh, that Jack had to work at the very same as you? Technically, he had been working here longer than you, but that fact didn’t matter. All that mattered was that the man you had tried but effectively failed to get out of your head, was some kind of boss to you. Not directly, of course, since you answered to the paediatric department. But every once in a while, against your will, you would be called down to the ER when they were short-staffed, and that would put you under Jack.
You dragged a hand across your face, groaning. You couldn’t believe your luck, that the man you were practically dreaming about and definitely flirting with was your once-removed boss. Would you need to get HR involved? No, nothing had happened. Yet, a small part of your brain supplied helpfully. But you and Jack had agreed to never meet, so what you would do with this information now was as of yet unclear to you.
That was also when you remembered the fact that Jack had avoided answering to the photo you had sent him. You had never thought of yourself of ugly or anything of the sort, but maybe you just weren’t his type? Maybe that was the reason he hadn’t replied. The thought of then having to see him in person, knowing of all the times you had flirted with him and must have embarrassed yourself, mortified you beyond anything else. You weren’t sure if you could live with knowing the answer.
But not knowing was so much worse, you realised, and against your better judgment you stormed back down to the ER in search of him. You grabbed hold of the first nurse you saw, which happened to be Jesse.
“Hey, is Dr Abbot here?” you asked, trying to sound more cool than you felt.
He blinked at you before nodding. “I think I saw him go into Central 7.”
“Great, thanks,” you threw over your shoulder as you rushed in the direction.
Without allowing yourself a moment to hesitate, you threw open the door and pushed away the curtains. There, shirtless and tall, stood Jack Abbot in all of his glory. He had his back turned to you, showing off the broad muscles that rippled under his skin as he moved, as well as the constellations of freckles that extended across his shoulders and down his arms. God, he was in good shape, was the first thought that popped into your traitorous mind. The second being that there was a wound on his left shoulder, but that fact catalogued itself somewhere in the back of your brain in favour of the view of a shirtless Jack in front of you.
“Jack?” you said, before your brain had time to catch up with the fact that you were currently seeing him shirtless, of all things. “Oh, shit—” Here’s to first meetings, you supposed.
He turned around with a frown before his brows lifted in shock. “Yeah? Oh.”
You bit your lip, crossing your arms over your chest. Jack looked just as good from the front as he did from the back. You had to physically shake your head to rid your thoughts, focusing instead on meeting his eyes. God, he had a steady gaze, you realised. It was difficult not to feel put on the spot underneath it.
“Maybe I should be calling you Dr. Abbot, instead?” you asked, although rather unkindly.
Jack only nodded dumbly, his mouth still hanging open slightly.
You grimaced. “You know, for a man who can never seem to shut up you’re being unusually quiet.”
“Uhuh, well,” he croaked, his voice unusually unstable. Then he let a small smile lift the corner of his mouth. “I am just a bit caught off guard. What are you doing here?”
“I work here. Well, in pedes upstairs.” You gestured upwards, scoffing as if it was obvious.
“Right,” he replied, those beautiful hazel eyes narrowing at you. “What are you doing down here? Thought you said the ER stresses you out.”
“It does,” you said, frowning slightly. You were surprised he remembered that detail you had mentioned in passing. “You remember that?”
“Yeah, of course.” Something about those simple words twisted something in your stomach. The casualness that he said it with, as if it had been obvious that he would remember the small things you told him.
You cleared your throat, coming out of your thoughts to answer his earlier question. “Got an abandoned baby that I was called down to check on. The better question is what you’re doing here? As far as I’m aware, it’s not night.”
“Good solve, Sherlock.”
Even in person, Jack was quick to answer with a witty remark. Gods dammed his wit and his sarcasm and his humour. He was just as attractive in person as he was over the phone, if not more, and his intense stare made you want to avert your eyes. Was it always this intense, or did it just feel extra so under the circumstances?
“This is less than ideal,” he finally said after clearing his throat.
“Yeah,” you breathed out. You took in his shirtless torso, quickly looking away so that he wouldn’t notice your staring. “Do you want me to come back? Give you a moment?”
“No,” Jack replied with a small smile. He was sitting down now and putting forward medical supplies and bandages. “It’s okay.”
To avoid whatever that meant, you focused on the task his hands were doing, which also meant you had to keep your thoughts in check, because damn, even his hands were attractive. You cleared your throat. “What happened to you?
“Oh. Bullet grazed my vest,” he said simply, his eyes on his hands, as casual as if you had asked him about the weather.
“You got shot?”
“Shot at,” he corrected, eyes flitting up to yours. “It’s no big deal. I can take care of it myself.”
As Jack said that, you saw him reach a cotton swab with a lotion over his shoulder, struggling to get the angle right. After a few minutes of craning his neck, you sighed and stepped forward, relaxing from your tense posture.
“Let me help you,” you said, beginning to put on a pair of gloves.
His head turned in your direction as he grimaced, his hand gesturing as if to wave you away. “No, don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”
An eyebrow raised in his direction. “Now who’s the one being too stubborn to accept help. I’m a nurse, let me do my job.” You stepped around him, holding out your hand for him to give you the swab.
“A nurse in paediatrics,” Jack pointed out, but relented with a small sigh. The brief brush of your gloved fingers meeting his ungloved one caused shivers to travel up your arms, almost as if you had been shocked by electricity.
You scoffed. “That doesn’t matter. A wound is a wound.”
You began cleaning his wound, carefully inspecting him for any sign of discomfort. Instead, you only found how much more handsome he looked up close. You could see the small wrinkles on his forehead, the way his eyes stayed dutifully ahead of him, and his posture was as straight as a soldier’s. Not the only thing that remained from his war days, you thought as you sneaked a glance at his right leg. But it didn’t make him look old, no. He looked like a weathered man, with tons of stories held inside that pretty head of his.
Your thoughts went back to the conversation at hand, sighing as you swapped the cotton swab for another. “Y’know, I never pegged you for one to look down on other areas of medicine,” you mentioned.
“Sorry, I don’t,” he said, shrugging a bit as if bashful. “I’m just still surprised that I’m actually seeing you right now. That we’re finally meeting.”
You tilted your head. “You don’t sound so surprised.”
It took a second for him to answer, and it was with a grimace you could only half see has he turned his head away from you. “Well, I knew you worked here.”
You paused in your movements. What? “And you didn’t say anything? How long have you known?”
“Only found out when you sent your picture,” he admitted, craning his neck to meet your eye. “I recognised you.”
“What?”
“It’s hard to forget a face like yours.” Jack’s smirk was infectious and you had to fight your own from forming as he then shook his head. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”
“No, um,” you cleared your throat, “what do you mean by that?”
Jack shrugged sheepishly. “Just that I noticed you, even before knowing that you are, well, you.”
“Oh,” was your only reply, continuing to clean his wound. “Well, I hope that’s a good thing.”
“Very.”
You could almost hear the smirk in his voice, that tone that you had gotten painfully familiar with over the past couple of months. And God was it a blessing to be able to see it now in person, finally witnessing how it made his eyes scrunch up in delight, wrinkles forming around them, and it made him look exactly as self assured as you had pictured during your long talks.
You ignored it in favour of putting down the cotton swab and beginning to dress his wound, clearing your throat at the same time.
“So, care to tell me the story behind this?” you asked, just to get away from his burning gaze.
Jack looked down into his lap, his smirk dropping. “Geniuses thought today was the day to rob a goods warehouse. Didn’t think about how long it would take to load the appliances. They panicked. All hell broke loose.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, applying the wound dressing. “Why do you do this?”
“My therapist said I needed a hobby,” he said as he shrugged.
You scoffed. “Thought that was the reason you reached out to me, remember?”
“I can have two hobbies.”
Your hands smoothed out the dressing before you removed the gloves and stepped around Jack, shaking your head. “Not if one is putting you under active fire.”
“Careful, it almost sounds like you care.”
When you looked at him you saw a tiny smirk playing on the edge of his lips. You averted your eyes from them, raising an eyebrow and humming a reply. As you turned around to walk away, Jack’s hand shot out to grab your wrist.
“Listen,” he started, letting go of your hand. You already missed the warmth from his skin. “I wanted to say sorry.”
“For what?” Your voice was carefully devoid of any emotion that he had managed to stir up in you.
“For not answering, earlier.”
You merely hummed as a reply.
His eyes looked up to you, now shadowed by a hint of guilt and sadness, not unlike the eyes of a puppy. It made something twist inside you, a twinge of guilt suddenly shooting inside you from the knowledge that you were the cause of it. “It wasn’t cool of me, I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“You didn’t worry me,” you said, way too quickly.
He ignored your words, still keeping that damned eye contact. “I should have just responded right away, but I wasn’t sure what to say. Or do. You said you didn’t want to meet, so…” He chuckled, sounding a bit unsure of his own words.
You tilted your head to the side, crossing your arms over your chest. “So, what, you figured you would keep it secret that we worked in the same hospital? Just so we’d never meet.”
“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Jack explained, a pleading tone now sneaking into his voice.
You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Jack, I’ve told you. You could never make me uncomfortable.”
Something in his eyes lit into a spark. “Really?”
“Please,” you chuckled, glancing to the side with a hint of a smile. “The fact that you were ever worried… is kind of attractive.”
The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. You closed your eyes in frustration and berated yourself. It was one thing to flirt over text, because that gave you plausible deniability. But admitting he was attractive after he had effectively ignored you for the better part of the day after had had finally seen your face, was something else. If he really wasn’t interested and you hadn’t chased him away yet, you would surely have done it now.
However, when you looked back to Jack, meeting his gaze, all you could see was the mirth in his eyes.
“You think so?” he asked, and that smug smirk was back on his face.
Your eyes narrowed at him, taking in the way he was leaning slightly forward and looking up into your eyes, all open and honest. There was something in the way he was looking at you that made your stomach twist, but not in a bad way, as if he knew something you didn’t. You didn’t know what, but it felt like the air had suddenly gotten heavier in the room, your shoulders tensing and lips pressing together.
That smug smile on his face made you roll your eyes. “Fuck off, you know you’re good-looking.”
Jack’s head tilted to the side, but his eyes never left yours. “Hmm, is that so? And do you find me that? Good looking?”
He was enjoying this more than he should. “Perhaps,” you said and shrugged, despite yourself. “Although I must say your picture does not quite make you justice.”
“Now, that’s a compliment.” His smile had widened, reaching his eyes as well and the sight was almost too much for you.
“I do know how to give compliments, y’know,” you said with a scoff.
“Would love to hear more of them,” Jack replied with small nod.
You gave him a meaningful glare. “Don’t know if your ego could take it.”
At that, his smile widened into a grin. “I can take more than you think.”
Your narrowed eyes met his smug ones and you had to fight the urge not to smile. He really had a reply to everything, this man. Then your eyes flitted down to his body, noticing the army pants he still wore, remembering how good he had looked in his SWAT uniform earlier.
“In that case,” you started, “you fill out that uniform quite well.”
“You should see me as a flight attendant,” Jack said. He didn’t miss a beat, his eyes still trained on you, eyes flitting all over your face.
“Mmm, bet.” When you noticed he wasn’t saying anything else, but merely staring at your face, you spoke again.“Jack.”
He nodded. “Mhm.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m just looking,” he said, but he was definitely staring.
You lifted an eyebrow at him, taking in the way he was staring at you. More than once, you had noticed how his eyes flitted down to your lips and that made your stomach fill with warmth. “No, you’re looking at me as if…”
“As if what?” he asked, head tilted but that smile on his face that told you he knew exactly what you meant.
“No, forget it,” you countered, ever so stubborn.
Jack stood up, now looking at you from your eye-level. “Tell me.”
You tried to discern whatever he was trying to say behind those eyes, but all you could see was a hint of teasing and hopefulness in them, as if wanted you to say exactly what you were thinking. Could he really want the same thing as you, even after all this time?
You furrowed your brows but finally said what was on your mind. “As if you wanna kiss me.”
“Would that be so bad?” His smile formed into something kinder, softer, as he took a step closer.
You shook your head before your mouth had a chance to catch up. “No, not really.”
“In that case, may I?” he asked, as one hand reached out to caress your cheek, the other landing on your small back. Your arms uncrossed themselves to grab his arms and the nape of his neck. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at his question—the fact that he even had to ask.
“We’re at work,” you whispered, despite wanting to relent and press into him with all that you had.
Jack closed his eyes in frustration, forehead pressed against yours. He was so close, yet so far away…
“Fuck,” he muttered. Despite all his feelings for you and the desire to do nothing else than press you up against a wall right there and then, he still had some sort of decorum and professionalism in him. But when he gazed at you, looking so handsome in his arms, his resolve started to dissolve bit by bit. “I’m not on the clock, though.”
“But I am.”
Jack bit his lip as he looked away, swiftly stepping out of your grasp and going over to close the door of the room before he pulled the curtain closed as well. Then he stepped closer to you, the question written in his eyes as clear as days. You couldn’t help but grin at him, at the slight flustered breath as he leaned in closer.
“You’re such a dork. C’mere.” You saw his eyes soften as they traveled down to your lips.
“Thank god,” was all he said as he leaned in and met your lips with his.
Jack’s skin was warm as he pressed closer to you, his lips moving against yours with a hunger and firmness you weren’t expecting. The way he moved his hands over your body made you groan into his lips which only made him grasp you harder. He felt heavenly against you, the way his warmth seeped into yours.
You grasped the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss by pushing against him. It was hard to ignore his shirtless torso as well, so you made sure to run your hand down his back, noticing the shivers that erupted in your fingers’ wake. He let out a low moan at that and you made sure to file that information away for future use. When you pulled away, his full blown pupils were staring into yours with smirk on his lips.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathed, his lips venturing further south as he placed small kisses against your chin, your throat, down to your collarbone.
You let out something that was a mix between a laugh and a moan. “I think that broke the rules of our agreement.”
“Fuck the agreement,” Jack said as he met your eye properly. “I want you, with or without it.”
Your smile turned crooked. “Does this mean you’ll stop paying me?”
“No, you should be prepared to be spoiled even more,” he replied, his own smirk widening.
“You don’t have to, Jack,” you said, meeting his gaze with a meaningful glare.
Jack merely stepped even closer, incasing you in his strong arms, his lips lowering to your ear as he whispered, “I want to.” And looking into those eyes of his, you think you finally believed him when he said that.
HIIII CHAT not a poll but i do want request for Damian Wayne, Conner Kent (YJ cartoon), Peter Parker, Draco Malfoy, or Percy Jackson— things that can be written from 1k to like 4k just so i can get back to writing
What are our thoughts on yesterday’s episode… I just watched it and I’m lowkey not fucking with Santos anymore. She was funny first season but now she’s just being an ass… the mom almost killing herself was so… I feel so bad. The Ice appearance was a lot. Robby gets points for yelling at that one guy! I think the officers just being agents of chaos is very reflective of real life. They come into communities and disrupt pretty much everything around them. I’m glad the show portrayed them as nothing but trouble cause that’s pretty much what they are
With Santos, she’s still my girl ngl cause i too do hold grudges like a mf but she is letting it cloud her a bit too much ntm tho… and honestly with the mom i’m kinda 🧍♂️ cause there was HELLA dirt under her sons nails so either he’s just got dirty nails or she’s lying about something but i could be wrong idkidk
for the ice plot line, robby was a dick bc bro he hardly cared about giving her real treatment, he just wanted them out as fast as possible and when they took jesse it was like “damn… back to work everyone” like damn okay ig fuck jesse and yeah, props for yelling at them ig. it was just weird seeing al-hashimi gun so hard for the prisoner to be treated like a normal person when the lady didn’t get that same olive branch and the focus was solely on how robby has another issue to deal with, with a lot of his patients/nurses leaving with them there yfm
guys walk with me please please jack abbot x son of apollo reader HEAR ME OUT i’m reading The Sun Never Sets (It will shine on you again) by OhWormsNice on ao3 where dennis is a demigod and it’s like eye opening
romaincrisis
izzy806
discoholicmusic
theartofmadeline
ellievsbear
gummygunk
origamiaround
kaledo-art