Bradshaw's Date

The Charming Sister

Yes another OUAT fic, The reader is Charming's sister and becomes a princess when he is a prince. But when her father wants to make an arranged marriage which she doesn't want so she runs away. When running through the woods she encounters Rumplestiltskin and makes a deal with him. What is the deal and how will she handle the curse being cast?

1 - Shepherd Princess

2 - Dealing Dearie

3 - Child Friend

4 - Changing Times

5 - Henry's Theories

6 - One Apple = Multiple Victims

7 - Kiss of the Heart

8 - Magical Storybrooke

9 - Realm Mission

10 - Memory Red Line

11 - Unlikely Pair

12 - Charming's Advice

13 - Bandit Guidance

14 - Brother's Permission

@fanficismydrug @misskitty1912-blog @lover-of-books-and-tea

Comments really appreciated ❤️

bitter/sweet

a Dr. Jack Abbot one-shot (The Pitt)

pairing: Jack Abbot x f!reader

summary: when a stubbornly charming chef keeps showing up in his ER, Dr. Jack Abbot finds it harder and harder to ignore the pull toward something—or someone—he didn't plan for…

warnings/tags: slow burn, hurt/comfort, grumpy x sunshine, food as a love language, age gap, fainting/medical emergency, mild language

word count: 5.5k

a/n: my new hyperfixation i guess ???

“Fuck,” you grumbled, clutching your thumb in a blood-soaked kitchen towel, the fibers more crimson than cotton. The pain throbbed in pulses, each step sending a sharp reminder up your arm. You kept your eyes on the linoleum floors, following the resident as he led you deeper into the chaos of the emergency department and into an exam room.

“Oh,” the resident, Student Doctor Whittaker, said, his voice pitchy as he glanced at the kitchen towel. He quickly averted his eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “Yeah, maybe we should keep that wrapped.” 

You arched a brow at him, settling onto the exam table as the paper crinkled beneath you. The air in the room smelled sterile – alcohol wipes, latex gloves, and that faint antiseptic sting. “You’re not afraid of a little blood, are you? Because hate to be the one to tell you – you might be in the wrong profession.” 

He gave a nervous laugh. “No, no – just… been a rough day,” he said, the humor dropping from his voice. “Can’t really handle another loss.”

You paused, tone softening. “Oh. Well, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” You glanced down at the towel, now visibly seeping. “Did you get a hold of my sister?” 

He shook his head, eyes already shifting toward the door. “I tried, but she’s in the OR; still scrubbed in. But, don’t worry; Dr. Abbot is the attending on call tonight. He’s one of the best – ”

You frowned. “Abbot? Where’s Robby?” 

Before he could answer, the door opened and a tall man entered the room, pulling on a pair of nitrile gloves with a practiced snap. His scrubs were black, sleeves rolled to the elbow, and his expression was carved from stone. His salt-and-pepper hair was short but wavy; he easily had fifteen or twenty years on you… Still, he was cute.

“Well,” he began, his voice low and even, “It’s almost nine, and contrary to popular belief, even Robby needs to go home and rest. So, lucky you – you get me.” 

You blinked. “Wow, smart and pretty. Lucky me indeed.” 

He gave a subtle eye roll before his gaze met yours – steady, unreadable, deeply hazel. “So, what’ve we got?”

Whittaker stumbled to present. “Uh – female, 27. Has a deep laceration on her thumb. Cut it open on a grater – ”

“Mandoline slicer,” you corrected.

Abbot moved toward you, taking a seat on the wheeled stool. As he unwrapped your hand, you couldn’t help but ask, “Careful – you’re not gonna get queasy, too, are you?”

Without missing a beat, he stoically answered, “Only if this turns into something worse than a hand injury… like small talk.”

You let out a surprised laugh, half from the pain, half from how dryly he delivered the line.

“You’re funny,” you grinned. “I like you.” 

He said nothing in response, merely peeled the cloth away, sticky and crimson, revealing the deep gash across the side of your thumb. Cold air kissed the open skin, and you hissed. He examined it without a flinch, gently turning your hand between his fingers.

“So, what were you doing with the mandoline slicer?”

“I’m a chef,” you answered. “The prep rush was insane today – guess my hand just slipped.” 

He pressed carefully at the space between your thumb and index finger. You flinched, instinctively pulling back, but his other hand caught yours firmly, anchoring it. 

“What?” you asked, watching his expression shift as he looked up.

“Stitches,” he decided.

“Fuck that.” 

He arched his brow. “It’s a deep cut; can’t just put a bandaid on it and kiss it better.” 

“Well, that’s because you haven’t tried,” you flirted, finding it to be an easy distraction from the pain. Still, his face remained unchanged. “Come on, are you serious? You really can’t just wrap it up and call it a day? I have to get back before the dinner rush.”

“It’s not optional,” he informed. “It’s not gonna heal if it’s not stitched up.” 

“Don’t worry,” Whittaker piped up again, voice chipper. “Dr. Abbot could do this in his sleep.” 

“I could,” Abbot said, already reaching for gauze. “But Whittaker’s going to do it instead.” 

“What?” You both asked, heads whipping to him.

“It’s a good learning opportunity,” he replied casually. “And Robby’s always goin’ on about how we’re a teaching hospital. Besides, it’s just a few stitches – a teenager could do it.” 

“A teenager is about to do it,” you muttered. 

“He’s older than you,” Abbot pointed out, making your frown set on him. 

“I want you to do it.” 

“No.” 

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

“Because he got queasy just looking at the kitchen towel,” you explained. You and Abbot both turned to Whittaker, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. “It’s either you, or I wait for my sister to finish surgery,” you stubbornly gave him an ultimatum. “And she told me about those patient satisfaction scores.” You let out a low whistle.

Abbot stared at you for a beat, then turned to the student doctor. “Whittaker.” 

“Yes, sir?” 

“Go get me the lidocaine.” 

You grinned in victory before offering your hand back out to Abbot.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” he muttered, arms crossing.

“You and my sister should start a support group,” you shot back.

He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, maybe we will.” 

When Whittaker returned, Abbot explained the procedure before getting to work: numbing first, then the sutures, probably six or seven. His voice was calm, precise. You clenched your other hand into a fist, eyes fixed anywhere but the needle. The sting of the lidocaine made your jaw tense.

“Ready?” Abbot asked. You nodded silently, lips pressed tight. 

His hands were rough but skilled, careful – you could sense it. 

As your eyes gazed over the room, they settled on the chain tucked beneath the neck of Abbot’s scrubs. 

“Military?” you asked, voice quieter now as your free hand reached out to pull at the dog tags.

Without looking up, Abbot momentarily halted his work to swat your hand away. When your hand settled back by your side, he replied, “Used to be a medic. Liked the chaos so much, I went to med school for emergency medicine.” 

You winced as one of the stitches tugged. “You good?” he asked, glancing up. 

You gave him a wry look. “If I cry, will you hold my hand?” 

“I’m already holding your hand,” he deadpanned. 

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Then, buy me dinner? Or, let me buy you dinner, at Francesca.”

“Francesca?” Whittaker perked up. “Wait – you work there?” You nodded, smiling. “That’s cool. I’ve heard some of the other residents talking about it. They really love the food.” 

You turned back to Abbot with a pointed smile. “See? Good food, good company – what more could you ask for?” 

“Probably some peace and quiet,” he muttered. But, before you could press, he was already tying off the sutures and wrapping your hand with fresh gauze.

“So,” you said eventually, “what’s the damage?”

“You’re a rightie?” he asked; you nodded. “It’s your dominant hand. That, and the fact that restaurants have a high risk of infection – wet, hot, high-contact. It’s gonna take a minute to heal. Probably five days off work to initially heal and reduce strain; another five until you’re back to full-duty – and when you are, make sure you wear some sort of splint or gloves. Come back then and I’ll take ‘em out. Sound good?” 

A week off work. 

You already knew you weren’t waiting that long.

Still, you grinned up at him. “Whatever you say, handsome.”

Two weeks later––four days after you were meant to get your stitches out––you finally found yourself back in the hospital. You couldn’t say you missed the bright fluorescent lights or the constant beeping of machines – you weren’t sure how your sister did it every day.

You did, however, miss Dr. Tall, Dark, and Broody. 

That’s what you’d started calling Dr. Abbot in all your conversations with your sister. She’d blinked at you, been less amused, and professionally corrected you every time you brought him up. 

“You mean ‘Jack’?” She’d say, and you’d grinned at that, ready to use this ammunition against him.

And, even though you had every intention to return earlier so you could see Jack sooner, work at the restaurant had gotten busy. Between a busted oven and two line cooks calling out, you’d been elbow-deep in chaos. You’d barely been convinced by Eleni, your sous, to come back even now. She had to practically push you out the front door. 

Taylor, the charge nurse who brought you in, gave a smile as she informed you, “Dr. Whittaker will be in in just a few minutes.” 

Your spine straightened immediately. “Actually, can you get Dr. Abbot? Tall one with the storm cloud for a personality. You know the one.” 

Taylor nearly dropped her tablet laughing. “Oh, I like you,” she said, already halfway out the door. “Let me see what I can do.”

Luckily, it seemed like a slow night in the ED––well, slower than usual––and in a few minutes, your request had been granted.

“You know,” Abbot said by way of greeting when he entered the room, “you don’t get to request a specific doctor in the ED. That’s not how it works.”

You tilted your head. “Yeah? Then how come you showed up?” 

He ignored that. “Why didn’t you let Whittaker take them out?” He already sounded annoyed, and it brought you much more glee than it should’ve. “You know he’s perfectly capable of removing stitches. And putting them in.” 

“And pass up another moment of your stellar bedside manner? Now, why would I do that… Jack?” You smiled sweetly.

His eyes flicked up fast at the sound of his first name. “I hate your sister,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“She’s the best and you know it.”

Instead of arguing, Jack gently pulled the wrap from your hand. His fingertips were warm through the gloves, deliberate in their movements as he examined the injury. 

“You didn’t wait the five days before going back to work,” he said flatly, frown setting in.

Your brows furrowed. “What are you talking about? Of course I did – In fact I – ” 

You cut yourself off when you saw the look he gave you. All stern disapproval and low-simmering frustration – hot. And in a moment, you crumbled.

“Okay, okay, fine – but I took three days off! That has to count for something! I was going stir-crazy in my apartment, Jack.” You squirmed under his gaze.

He let out a deep sigh, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he grumbled, brows pinched slightly as he prepped the suture scissors in that deliberate, quiet way of his.

You couldn’t watch as he moved with steady practiced precision. Instead, your eyes settled back on his dog tags and after a moment of silence, you asked in a soft voice, “How could you tell? That I went back to work early?” 

He met your eyes then, frowning. After a beat, he answered. “The skin around is red, irritated. The inflammation just started going down. You should’ve come in early if you were gonna go back to work. I said day 10.” 

“I know.” 

Dryly, he continued, “This is day fourteen.” 

“I know, Jack.” You frowned now too. “You know, if you keep on like this, you’re not getting your present.” 

That was when he noticed the light pink bag that sat on the chair by the exam table. 

“I brought you something. As a thank you for stitching me up.” 

Jack tilted his head to the side. “Not a bribe to soften the blow because you knew I’d know you went back to work early?”

You smiled up at him, this time in a way that asked for his forgiveness. “Why can’t it be both?” 

Jack rolled his eyes, then began removing your stitches. “It’s healing,” he noted, “but slower than it should be. You pushed it too hard.” 

“I was careful,” you defended. “I let Eleni do all the chopping and lifting heavy pans – I just ran the line… and plated.” 

Jack hummed, observing. “You’re holding tension through your whole arm. That’s not careful.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but just then, he snipped one of the sutures and you flinched with a hiss of discomfort. His hands paused immediately, and his expression shifted – not annoyed this time, but concerned.

“Still hurts?” he asked, quieter.

You tried to play it off, half-laughing. “Hurts less than not being in the kitchen.” 

Jack sighed again, shaking his head. “You think I’m impressed by your stubbornness?” 

You gave a crooked grin. “No, but I think you like it.” 

He didn’t answer, just focused on removing the next stitch. Silence stretched between you, the only sound the soft snip of scissors. When he finally leaned back, he said, “Okay, that’s the last one. Take it easy, okay? I mean it. Just plating for now – carefully.” 

You lifted your head. “And if I don’t? You going to come hold my hand through the dinner rush?” 

Jack rolled his eyes. “I’ll come by the kitchen if I have to.” 

You watched him, smile growing. “Still thinking about saying yes to that dinner I offered?” 

Just as quick, he quipped, “I’m thinking about you not landing in my ER again.” 

Your brow rose. “Keep it up and you’re not getting the tiramisu.” 

As he was wrapping your hand in new gauze, his gaze flickered up to meet yours. “Tiramisu?” 

“My sister said you wouldn’t stop talking about it a few days ago. Got a craving.”

“Yeah, for DiAnoia’s,” Jack corrected. 

When he was done wrapping your hand, you hopped off the exam table and offered him the light pink bag, with a tiramisu boxed inside. 

“It’s better than DiAnoia’s,” you promised, already halfway to the door. 

He snorted at that, not believing you. “But, be careful, it's sweet. Might clash with the whole brooding thing you’ve got going on.” 

“I don’t brood,” he called after you.

You turned at the doorway, walking backward as you smirked. “Yeah? Tell that to your face.” 

Then, you spun on your heel, feeling his gaze on you as you let the door swing closed behind you.

You couldn’t tell if the emergency room was changing or if you were just getting used to it. The fluorescent lights felt ambient now, the loud chatter muffled, and the beep of vital machines now felt distant.

“Miss me?” You grinned up at Jack as he strolled towards the nurse’s station. You leaned casually against the counter, trying not to let your excitement show too much.

Without looking up from the chart in his hands, he replied, “Still haven’t recovered from the last time.”

You glanced over at Taylor, who sat typing behind the station, and dropped her a wink. “That’s not a no,” you stage-whispered, giggling. 

Jack finally looked at you then, eyes tired but alert, like your voice had stirred him awake. “What are you doing here?” he asked, handing off the chart to Taylor.

“What, can’t a girl visit her local cute, broody doctor?”

“I already told you I’m not that,” he frowned. 

You tilted your head. “Cute?” you asked, pretending to be confused. 

He narrowed his eyes on you. “Broody.”

“Right,” you nodded solemnly. “Of course not.” 

The silence between you lingered a second longer than expected – long enough for you to catch the faint circles under his eyes, the crease between his brows. His scrubs looked wrinkled, like he’d been running nonstop since the start of shift. Your smile softened. 

“I’m dropping some food off.”

His brows furrowed now. “For me?”

Your smile only widened, but faltered just a touch as you took in just how off he looked, a little out of rhythm. That bone-deep kind of tired. You wondered if he’d eaten at all tonight.

“For my sister,” you said lightly, though your feet were already carrying you toward the break room. You grabbed a paper plate and plastic fork, and returned just as quickly. You set the plate down and began undoing the takeaway box you’d packed.

“Wait,” Jack started, a note of warning in his voice – he already knew where this was going. You ignored him, and scooped a generous portion of pasta onto the plate before sliding it his way. The steam curled up toward Jack’s face.

“Try some.”

He sighed, saying your name like it was both a complaint and a surrender. 

“Come on,” you coaxed. “Just a bite. And if you hate it, I’ll leave you alone.”

He gave you a long-suffering look – but brought the fork to his mouth anyway. The first bite had his eyes fluttering closed, just for a second. A soft sound escaped him – barely audible, but unmistakable. You caught it.

“That was a compliment,” you accused, pointing at him with a victorious grin. “I heard it! Everyone heard it!” You turned dramatically to Taylor, who watched with a dry amusement before shuffling over to a patient’s room. 

Jack rolled his eyes. “Ok, hotshot, relax. It’s just pasta. Hard to mess it up.”

You scoffed. “You’d be surprised.” He shrugged, and you took it as a challenge. “Okay, then what? What can I make to convince you it’s not just luck – it’s these magic hands.” To make a point, you wiggled your fingers. 

To your surprise, he actually gave it some thought. A flicker of memory seemed to pass through him. His voice was quieter when he spoke.

“There was this dish we used to get when I was in the military – in this little town outside Kabul. Locals made it in the market stalls. It was kind of like a lamb stew, over some flatbread. Spicy. Kinda messy to eat. But damn good.” 

You blinked, surprised he’d offered to share something so personal. You cleared your throat, softly asking, “You were stationed in Afghanistan?” 

Realizing the slip-up, Jack shrugged it off like he regretted saying anything. His eyes drifted to a fixed point behind you.

“Jack,” you said softly, reaching out to place a hand over his, which rested on the counter of the nurse’s station. The gentle tone of your voice kept him from pulling his hand out from underneath yours. If anything, that, alongside the glint in your big eyes, made him want to spill everything.

“It was the 68W program – for combat medics,” he revealed, using his free hand to pull the dog tags from under his scrub top. “Standard issue accessory.” 

“I disagree,” you murmured, playful but sincere. “I’ve heard medics are some of the toughest ones in the room.” 

Jack let out a tiny almost-smile. “We were just the ones who didn’t get to shoot back.” 

You paused, then asked, “What was it called? The dish.” 

He thought for a second. “I don’t remember. I think maybe – palau something – or – I don’t know. Doesn't matter.” 

You shook your head, heart melting. “If it stuck with you… it matters.” 

Jack didn’t say anything to that, but his gaze found yours again – direct. You caught him staring. He didn’t look away.

“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m going to think you like me,” you teased, tone light.

He didn’t even deny it, just shook his head – either in denial or disbelief, you couldn’t tell. 

“That’s okay. I like you enough for the both of us.”

That brought a pink tinge to his cheeks. 

Instead of bringing attention to it, you simply offered a half-smile. “Okay. Challenge accepted. One mystery lamb dish, coming up.”

At that, Jack raised a skeptical brow. “You’re gonna recreate something I haven’t eaten in ten years, from a place you’ve never been, with no recipe?”

You shrugged. “Maybe it’ll finally convince you to come to the restaurant.” 

And there it was – just for a second. The edge of a smile. Maybe even the beginning of a laugh. You nudged his side with your elbow.

“Admit it. You’re rooting for me.” 

Jack just shook his head, but didn’t speak. Didn’t stop smiling either. Didn’t even say no.

The next time Jack saw you in the hospital, the occasion was less momentous. You didn’t have a light pink box with the Francesca logo on it and a sweet treat––or Afghani dish––inside. You weren’t your happy, bubbly self jumping around the place. Forget jumping, you weren’t even on your feet. 

You were in a hospital bed, fluids pumping steadily through an IV line taped to your arm. into your veins through IVs. Your sister, elbows resting on the edge of the bed, was scrolling through her phone with the ease of someone used to hospitals – until Jack stumbled in.

His eyes immediately found yours, and whatever breath he’d been holding on the way in came out sharp.

“Every day you’re here – you come and find me. Every day,” he said, voice low and urgent. “So, what changed today? Why was Robby the one to tell me you fainted?” 

You and your sister exchanged a glance. She was already putting her phone down, her expression turning serious.

“Because it literally happened an hour ago…?” you offered, wincing a little. “And that’s still day shift.” 

Jack raked a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every sharp movement.

“Robby had it covered,” your sister said, trying to calm Jack.

It didn’t help.

“Did he do an ECG?”  

“Yes.” 

“Echocardiogram?” 

“Yes, Jack,” she sighed.

“What about a head CT?

You frowned. “Why would he do a CT?” 

“Because you probably hit your head when you fell.” 

You let out a breath, rolling your eyes. “I didn’t hit my head.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Because Eleni caught me.” 

Jack’s eyes bounced between you and your sister. “This happened at work?” You nodded, slowly. “Did this happen because of work?” 

Suddenly, you were having a hard time meeting his eye. 

To make matters worse, your sister answered for you. “She was covering for one of the other line chefs, stressed about a critic visit – Eleni said she was barely sleeping – ”

“The critic’s a big deal!” you defended, “and Luca was getting burnt out. He needed a break.” 

“No, babe,” your sister cut in, not unkindly, “You need a break.” 

Jack stepped closer to the bed, scanning the IV bag. His fingers brushed against your arm, checking the line, then pressing gently against your wrist. “Did Robby hook her up to saline?” 

Your sister nodded.

“What about electrolytes? She’s dehydrated.” 

“He – ” Your sister paused, then asked, a little surprised, “How did you know that?” 

“Her lips are dry,” Jack responded, as if it was obvious. “She squints every time she looks up at the lights. And her leg is tense – probably cramping earlier.” 

You and your sister shared another look, then you grinned up at him, pushing his hand away from your arm to grab it in yours, warm and steady. “What?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“You were worried about me,” you grinned, all grin and no apology.

He exhaled deeply, rubbing his free hand defeatedly over his face. “Oh, my God. You fainted and this is what you’re focused on?” 

You gave him a small shrug. “I’m fine.” 

And, truthfully, you were starting to feel better. Color was returning to your cheeks, and the constant throb behind your eyes had dulled to a whisper. The IVs were helping; the rest, too.

A voice crackled over the intercom, paging your sister to OR 3. She stood, hesitating. 

“Go,” you said, waving her off. “I’ll be fine. Go back to work.” 

“Fine, but tell someone to page me when they discharge you. I’ll get someone to drive you home.”

You rolled your eyes but nevertheless nodded. As she stepped out, Jack moved to sit on the edge of the chair beside your bed, one hand running along the railing.

“How mad do you think she’s gonna be when I tell her you’re not going anywhere? I’m keeping you overnight.” 

Your head whipped toward him. “What? Why?” 

“For observation. I want to make sure it really was stress-related and not some underlying medical condition.”

You groaned, tilting your head back against your pillow. “Jack,” you groaned, frustrated by this decision.

“Oh, I know,” he mocked gently. “How could I do this to you? Keeping you overnight to make sure you’re healthy? I’m the worst.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as dramatically as you could manage while tethered to an IV. 

“Don’t be like that,” he tried, his hand uncrossing yours. Then, the same hand lifted to gently cup your cheek. “You know, you didn’t have to faint just to get my attention. Could’ve just called.”

The blush that crept to your cheeks was immediate, and you cleared your throat, looking away. “Dr. Abbot with the jokes – never thought the day would come.”

“What can I say?” he replied with a shrug. “I’m a complex guy.”

He tugged your blanket higher, gently tucking it around you like it was second nature. “Now, get some sleep. I’ll come check on you in a bit.” 

You nodded, already feeling the weight of exhaustion settle behind your eyes. As Jack slipped out, he left the curtain half-open so he could keep an eye on you from the nurse’s station or while he was passing by to other patient rooms. 

Instead, you found your eyes drifting to him. Even through the haze of sleep, you watched him move through the ED like a controlled current – swift, focused, unshakable. He was in full command, teaching, managing, healing. Something about how intense yet calm he was eventually lulled you to sleep. 

When you woke again, sunlight was peeking through the slats of the blinds, and Jack was beside your bed, carefully unhooking the IV line. 

“Morning,” he greeted, voice soft as it pulled you from your deep slumber. “How are you feeling?” 

You rubbed at the sleep in your eyes and let out a groggy sigh “Wow, thought I died and went to broody heaven.” 

“I’ll take that as ‘fine,’” he said dryly, grabbing a paper cup of water he’d filled for you and maneuvering the straw toward your lips like it was muscle memory.

“Can I go home now?” 

He nodded, his eyes still scanning your vitals, “Soon. Just gotta fill out your discharge paperwork and then shift’s over. I’ll drive you home.” 

“Drive me home? I’m wearing you down, old man,” you grinned sleepily up at him. 

He rolled his eyes, raising a hand to press the back of it to your forehead. “You feel okay? No headache? Dizziness? Nausea?” 

“Good as new,” you promised, reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze. “Must be these magic hands.” 

He smiled at that, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles before letting go. 

“So,” you began as he signed off on your chart, “does being injured get me privileges?” 

He arched a brow. “What kind of privileges?” 

“Favors,” you said with a shrug. “Like you finally coming to the restaurant.”

Jack let out a low groan, head shaking. “It’s too early for this – you’re never gonna let that go, are you?” 

“Not till you say yes. And, as you know, I’m very persistent.” 

“Oh, I do know,” he said, then held his hand out. “Let me see your thumb.” 

You blinked. “Why?” 

Still, you offered it up. He examined it gently, brushing his fingers over the healing skin.

“When this heals completely, I’ll come to Francesca.” 

You beamed. “In that case, let’s speed up the process…” You wiggled your thumb closer to his face. “Never did try that technique of kissing it better, huh?” 

He gave you a look – but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the pad of your thumb.

When he set it back down in your lap, your stomach fluttered.

“Now, can I take you home or are you going to make me do a blood oath first?” 

“You’ve been burying the lede, Abbot,” you teased, making your presence known as you walked across the hospital rooftop and joined him on the concrete ledge. Your shoes scraped lightly against the gravel as you sat, legs swinging just off the edge. 

He glanced over, brows furrowed in confusion. No one but Robby ever came up here. 

“Taylor told me where you were,” you informed. “How many conversations have we had – and you never mentioned this place? Or the crazy views it has?” 

The city was sprawled out below you, glittering the dark earth. A breeze tugged at your jacket, crisp with late night chill. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, checking his watch. 2:56am glowed dimly in the moonlight.

You shrugged, tucking your hands into your coat pockets. “Couldn’t sleep.” 

His concern was immediate, instinctual. “Is it the stitches? Are you feeling dehydrated?” He was already reaching for you, fingertips brushing your wrist as if searching for a pulse.

“No, Jack,” you laughed, pushing his hands away. “I’m fine. I just… woke up with a thought.” 

He stilled, waiting for you to explain what thought could’ve roused you out of bed in the middle of the night and forced you here.

You reached behind you and retrieved a familiar pink Francesca bag, the paper crinkling softly in your hands. In thick Sharpie ink, you’d scrawled his name with a lopsided heart beside it. His brows lifted in disbelief.

“No fucking way,” he murmured, greedy fingers snatching the food container out of the bag and tossing the lid aside like it might disappear if he wasn’t fast enough.

Inside sat the Afghani dish Jack had told you about that one day at the nurse’s station. The rich, spiced aroma was carried through the night air – saffron, cumin, caramelized carrots.

“It’s called qabili palau,” you offered, watching him tear a piece of naan, scoop up a mouthful, and take a bite. The moment the flavors hit his tongue, his eyes immediately rolled to the back of his head and he exhaled a quiet sound that was half-groan, half-moan.

“If you’re making those kinds of noises at my cooking, just imagine my skill in the bedroom,” you teased, flashing him a grin. 

That earned you a look – but not one you expected. Quiet, intense. His mouth twitched at the corner like he was trying not to smile, and then he went back for another bite. And another. You watched him eat in silence, the wind occasionally rustling his curls, and you couldn’t help but feel the intimacy of the moment, on this quiet rooftop, and this ridiculous hour.

He quietly finished the food, sharing it with you. And, when the food was gone, his eyes drifted out across the skyline. He looked… lighter somehow. And it reminded you why you loved being a chef – because food had the power to take people home, even when they were miles and years away.

You nudged him. “Oh – I almost forgot!” You excitedly held your hand up like a prize, thumb out. The skin had healed cleanly, leaving not even a scar behind. “All better.”

His eyes found yours, amusement dancing in them. “I’m pretty sure I said when it’s healed, not the exact moment it is.” 

You scooted closer to him, shoulders brushing, as you accused, “Oh, no. You’re not gonna get out of this.” 

He shook his head at you, like he had countless times before, but this time… this time the look in his eyes changed. Slowed. Softened. Like he couldn’t quite believe you were real, sitting here, choosing him.

His smile faded as he lifted a hand to your face, brushing a windblown strand of hair behind your ear. “I wouldn’t want to,” he said softly. 

And then he kissed you. 

It wasn’t rushed – not some messy, passionate crush. It was slow, intentional. The kind of kiss that people waited a long, long time for. His lips were warm, and soft, and they fit perfectly against yours. 

You melted into it, one hand curling around the front of his scrubs as the city disappeared beneath your closed eyelids. The hospital lights, the stars, the hum of distant traffic – it all faded until it was just the two of you. Just Jack.

When he finally pulled away, he didn’t go far – just rested his forehead against yours, his breath brushing across your skin as he murmured, “You know, you scare the hell out of me. Make it hard to stay behind the lines I drew.” 

You smiled softly at that, brushing your thumb over the edge of his jaw. “Good. Means it’s real.” 

There was a beat of quiet. Then, he gently took your hand again, turning it over to inspect your healed thumb. You rested your head against his shoulder, grinning – you both knew exactly what this meant.

He sighed dramatically, mocking defeat. “What’s the dress code?” 

“No scrubs,” you teased.

“Button-up?”

“Only if it’s black. Very broody.” 

“Deal,” he said, leaning in for another kiss.

.

.

.

read part 2 here !!

Set up

Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x daughter!reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Word count - 3,513

Warnings - brief mention of abandonment, allusion to sex, mostly fluff

Summary - Jake's daughter notices the obvious feelings between her dad and Rooster and schemes to get them together

A/N - hey y'all I strike again with another installment of the 'Hangman junior' universe! This took me a hot minute to write bc I was so determined to get this right. I really hope I did this idea justice and y'all enjoy it (and if you notice the lil 'Set It Up' reference in there you're awesome!) Anyways I'll stop rambling now. As per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!

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By only being raised by your dad your whole life, you had learnt to read him like the back of your hand. You could tell when he was hiding something from you, and you could tell how he felt about people just by the subtleties in his expressions as he interacted with them. With Coyote, you could tell your dad was relaxed. He’d laugh, smile and there’d be no evidence of tension in his body. You figured that’s what it was like to have a best friend you trusted with your life. With the rest of Dagger Squad, it was a similar situation. Your dad was completely relaxed around them, always cracking jokes, beating them at pool and rubbing it in their faces. Your dad was relaxed and unguarded around most people he surrounded himself with. So what made Rooster the exception?

The first time you had noticed the way your dad acted around Rooster was after the team had returned from the uranium mission. The team had gone out for celebratory drinks and when Rooster had clapped your dad on the back and thanked him once more for saving his and Maverick’s lives you noticed your dad tense up. His grip tightened on the neck of his beer bottle and a light blush spread over his cheeks as he cleared his throat and nodded with his signature cocky grin before he could finally find the words to speak.

You noticed that as time passed, Rooster started acting in a similar manner. He became more hesitant to initiate any physical contact with your dad, even things like a friendly slap on the back became too much for him. You saw how when Rooster was playing ‘Great Balls of Fire’ he’d look over at your dad as he sang. You saw the way Rooster averted his eyes and blushed deeply on the beach when your dad had tugged his shirt off as they prepared to play dogfight football. And you especially didn’t miss how your dad blushed when Rooster did the same thing.

“Hey, dad? How come you’ve never dated someone since my birth giver took off?” You asked the question innocently one night as you lay across the sofa with your head in your dad’s lap, curious about why your dad had never dated anyone your entire life. Your dad scoffed lightly at you referring to your mum as your ‘birth giver’ but since she never played a role in your life you felt she didn’t need the title of mother.

“Believe it or not, it’s hard to get time to yourself when you’re working a job and raising a kid.” Jake says with a grin poking you in the side as you swat at his hand.

“Well, I’m old enough to be left alone now so you can go on dates. Or I could spend the night at a friend's if you wanted to bring them home.” You reply, adjusting yourself so you can look up at your dad.

“Most people don’t want to date someone who already has a kid.” He then admits, his gaze dropping to you briefly before back up at the tv.

“I’m sorry.” You say, feeling guilty for being part of the reason your dad couldn’t go out on dates.

“Hey, you don’t have to apologise. You didn’t ask to be born. I’m happy enough with it just being us two. Maybe I’ll start dating again but you are and always will be my first priority.” Jake reassures, running a hand through your hair and smiling down at you gently. You smile lightly up at your dad before turning so you can watch the movie on the tv again. As you watched the movie you started concocting plans in your head about pushing your dad and Rooster together before your dad could start seeing someone else.

Your first plan was to set them up. You texted both of them one day asking if they wanted to meet at your favourite café after they finished work but didn’t tell them two big things. One, that you had invited the other. Two, you weren’t going to show up. Thankfully both your dad and Rooster replied to your message saying they’d meet you at the café at the time you sent, and you smirked to yourself as you sent them a smiley face emoji. Your dad was the first person to arrive, ordering himself a coffee and sitting down at the table you and him usually occupied when you went to this café. Not long after he sat down, Bradley came in, at first not noticing Jake but after getting his drink and turning around, he saw Jake sitting alone, scrolling through his phone. Bradley had to give himself an encouraging pep talk to get his legs to take him over to where Jake was sitting.

“Hey, Hangman.” Bradley greets casually, his coffee in one hand as he looks down at where Jake was sitting.

“Bradshaw, fancy seeing you here.” Jake replies, looking up briefly at Bradley before turning his attention to his coffee cup so Bradley wouldn’t see the blush that was threatening to coat his cheeks.

“What are you doing here?” Bradley asks, as he glances around the café and hoping he doesn’t say he’s here on a date.

“y/n asked if I wanted to meet after work. We haven’t had time recently to come here and chat, so I figured it was a long overdue father-daughter thing. What about you?” Jake replies, following Bradley’s line of sight while silently hoping he doesn’t say he’s waiting for a date.

“Funny, y/n asked me the same thing. She didn’t say anything about you coming along. Not that I’m bothered.” Bradley says with a laugh, quickly flushing red and apologising in fear of sounding rude.

“If it’s any consolation, she didn’t mention you either. You’re free to sit here until she gets here. Maybe she’s having problems and she’s too scared to tell us outright.” Jake says as he gestures for Bradley to sit opposite him. Bradley plants himself in the seat opposite and the two begin conversing. At first, they discuss their usual topics of conversation, how work was going, and whether they were going for drinks with the Daggers at the Hard Deck on Saturday. They were the only kinds of conversations the two were used to having. Bradley often asked how you were doing if you weren’t around, wanting to know from Jake if things were going okay but that was as personal as their conversations would get. When the two ran out of their normal conversation topics they sat awkwardly for a minute. Jake picked his phone up and sent you a text, questioning you about your whereabouts.

“You know when I saw you in here, I thought you were here for a date and y/n had recruited me to spy on you with her.” Bradley chuckled to himself as he glances up from his coffee cup to make brief eye contact with Jake, looking away quickly before a blush threatened to take over his cheeks.

“That does sound like something she’d do.” Jake laughs as he imagines you and Bradley trying to discreetly spy on him on a date in the small café. Jake’s laugh was like music to Bradley’s ears. Back when the two were first called back to Top Gun, hearing Jake laugh was a rarity since they were always busy bickering. Bradley would never forget the first time he heard Jake laugh properly. It was at the beach a couple of days after the uranium mission, and you’d tagged along. You had sneakily brought a bucket with you and filled it up with seawater when no one was looking, and the second your dad’s back was turned you dunked the water all over him. Bradley remembered how Jake was quick to sling you over his shoulder and walk towards the sea with you squirming and trying to free yourself from his grasp, even calling out to Coyote and Rooster for help who both pretended they couldn’t hear you. Once Jake was waist-deep in the water he dropped you into the ocean, throwing his head back as he laughed when you emerged drenched from head to toe. When Bradley heard Jake’s hearty laughter, he swore his heart stopped as a small smile graced his lips. He was so entranced by the laughter that he didn’t hear Fanboy calling for Rooster’s attention as the football came flying at him and hit him square in the chest.

“Something’s telling me she’s not turning up.” Jake then says after checking his phone for the hundredth time and still not seeing a text from you on his screen. Both men’s hearts sank at the realisation because they instantly assumed the other was going to get up and leave now that they had no reason to hang around at the café.

“Well I paid for this coffee so I don’t know about you but I’m going to sit here and finish it.” Bradley says, hoping and praying that Jake does the same thing.

“I might have to do the same. No point wasting a coffee.” Jake says with a large smile that Bradley mirrors. The two find themselves falling into easy conversation and talking to each other about things they had never considered ever talking to each other about. They talked about the football game they had watched the other night at Coyote’s house and playfully debated whether that team deserved to win or not. When they’ve finished their coffees they smile sadly at each other, expecting this to be the moment they part ways for the day but neither of them wanted this to end.

“Hey, how about we got to the Hard Deck and have a couple of drinks. If we head there now we’ll be able to get our drinks just before the rush hits.” Bradley offers, mentally prepping himself to be shot down.

“Are the others going?” Jake asks, opening his phone and finding the Dagger Squad group chat to see if he missed something.

“No. I was hoping it could just be us two.” Bradley asks gently spinning the coffee cup in his hands and directing his focus to that.

“You asking me on a date or something, Bradshaw?” Jake asks with an amused tone as he raises an eyebrow while Bradley flushes red.

“I- I was just. Like-”

“Relax, you don’t need to blow a fuse. I mean I wouldn’t mind if it were a date but if you’d rather it just be as friends then that’s okay too.” Jake says and Bradley swore at that moment he couldn’t have gotten any redder in the face than he has right now.

“I mean… I want it to be a date. Only if you’re comfortable with it though.” At Bradley’s words, Jake’s smile softens, and he’s reminded of all the reasons why he liked him in the first place. Not only was Bradley insanely attractive and able to keep up with Jake’s wit. He was kind and always put the feelings of others above his own.

“Guess it’s a date then Rooster. Let’s get going I don’t want to get there when it’s busy.” Jake says, rising from his seat as Bradley follows suit, the two smiling shyly at each other before exiting the café and heading in the direction of the Hard Deck.

Penny was shocked to see Hangman and Rooster enter the bar without the rest of Dagger Squad trailing behind. Her shock only increased when the two ordered their beers and went to sit at a table in the corner of the bar rather than standing alongside the pool table or dart board. Since it was quiet in the bar, she watched the pair curiously and couldn’t stop the smile gracing her face when she noticed the shy smiles and light blushes on their cheeks. Penny had also been someone who noticed the way the two acted around each other and had been silently hoping they’d figure out their feelings and get together. She also hoped that Dagger Squad weren’t planning on showing up to the Hard Deck tonight because if they were she was willing to fight them off so Rooster and Hangman could have an undisturbed evening together.

“You know, the more I think about it. The more I think y/n Cyrano’d us.” Bradley says with a slight chuckle as he takes a sip from his beer.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jake asks with a raised eyebrow, confused about what Bradley was going on about.

“It’s a story about a guy who helped this guy date a girl he had a crush on. In other words, she set us up.” Bradley explains, an amused expression on his face at Jake’s confusion. When Bradley elaborates, Jake nods along.

“That kid is too smart for her own good. She sees things others don’t. It would explain why she asked me the other night about why I haven’t dated anyone since her mother took off.” Jake says, a flash of hurt appearing in his eyes at the mention of his ex.

“Hey, we don’t have to talk about that. But if anything this set-up shows how much y/n loves you. She just wants her dad to be happy.” Bradley says softly, finding the sudden courage to reach across and gently take one of Jake’s hands in his. Jake initially tensed up at the sudden contact, not used to any gentle contact.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to-” Bradley apologises, releasing Jake’s hand.

“No. You’re okay.” Jake says, taking Bradley’s hand again as the two smile softly. By the time it started to get late, neither man wanted to go their separate ways.

“I really enjoyed tonight. Do you think we could do this again sometime?” Bradley asks as the two exit the Hard Deck, both of them relieved they had an uneventful date that wasn’t crashed by Dagger Squad.

“You have my number, Bradshaw. Just text me a time and place.” Jake replies with a wink and a smirk as the two bid each other goodbye and make their way home separately.

It took a couple of dates for Jake to get the courage to ask Bradley if they wanted to become an official couple, but he didn’t regret it because he ended up having the best night of his life. He spent the night at Bradley’s and when he finally arrived home the next morning after reluctantly leaving Bradley’s bed, he found you in the kitchen making yourself some breakfast.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you up, kid.” Jake says, trying to sound casual as he walked into the kitchen. He thought because it was a Saturday morning, you’d be having a lie-in so he could sneak in and get changed without you noticing.

“Just woke up early.” You shrugged, your focus on making your breakfast.

“Did you have a good night? Must’ve been some date if you only just came home.” You smirk to yourself as you quickly glance your dad’s way.

“How’d you know that’s what it was?” Jake retorts, moving past you to pour himself some coffee.

“Like I said, you didn’t come home at all. If you’re out at the Hard Deck you’re always home by one am at the latest.” You explain, adding the bacon and eggs into the pan, glancing over at your dad to silently ask if he wants breakfast too.

“Plus you have hickeys on your neck.” You continue nonchalantly with a shrug as you add more food to the pan for your dad as he chokes on the coffee he was taking a sip from. He then pulled his phone out of his pocket and used the selfie camera to look at his neck, groaning under his breath at the bruises.

“Damn it, Bradley.” He whispers, inspecting the bruises closely while silently being grateful that it’s the weekend.

“You and Bradley, huh?” You asked with an amused smile as you busy yourself with flipping the bacon as the pan hisses.

“We know you set us up the other week at the café.” Jake chuckles as he puts his phone in his pocket and picks up his mug once more. You simply shrugged and plated up the food before grabbing cutlery.

“Bradley’s also coming around later so just expect him. And don’t go out with your friends we want to talk to you.” Jake says as he picks up his plate and crosses to the table, with you following behind him.

“You’re gonna tell me you’re a couple, right?” You ask with a raised eyebrow as you dig into your breakfast.

“How did you-”

“You spent the night together and you just called him Bradley, twice. You never call him that it was always ‘Bradshaw’ or ‘Rooster’ before.” You shrug as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Jake couldn’t stop the small smile that appeared on his face. You truly knew him like the back of your hand and the fact he was dating Bradley didn’t bother you made him feel more accepted than he has in years.

“Well, Bradley’s pretty nervous about telling you. He knows you set us up but he’s just worried. Just let him tell you.” Jake explains, eating his own breakfast and glancing up at you with a gentle expression.

“You got it.” You reply with the signature Seresin wink before returning to eating your breakfast. After finishing your food and cleaning up after yourself you excuse yourself to do some homework while you wait for Bradley to arrive.

It was late afternoon when Bradley turned up at the house. Jake was the one to greet him at the door, giving him a quick kiss and ushering him into the house as he lightly scolds him for the hickeys left on his neck from the night before. As Bradley settles himself into the sofa, Jake calls for you to come downstairs, silently reminding you to let Bradley explain everything on his own terms before entering the living room with you.

“Hey, Bradley.” You greet with a smile as you sit yourself in the armchair that sat proudly alongside the sofa while your dad stood behind the sofa, behind Bradley with both hands braced on the back of the sofa.

“Hey y/n/n. We have something we need to talk to you about.” Bradley starts, feeling worry clutch at his heart as he begins to talk. His hands instinctively search for Jake’s who slips his hand into Bradley’s grip, giving him a supportive smile.

“When you set us up the other week at that café, we ended up having a better time than we thought we would. I ended up asking your dad if he wanted to go for drinks at the Hard Deck. That date turned into a couple more and… I just thought you should know that we’ve made it official. And I’m not trying to force myself into your family or anything. We just thought you deserved to know.” Bradley explains, his worries about seeming like he was forcing his way into your family coming to light as he spoke, making your expression soften as you moved to the sofa to bring Bradley into a hug.

“If my dad’s happy, I’m happy. And you make my dad happy. I’ve seen it since the uranium mission. You make each other happy and that’s all I want.” You say as Bradley moves to hug you back, smiling up at Jake who rubs a thumb over the back of Bradley’s hand.

“And you’ve been a part of my family since the uranium mission. So don’t ever feel like you’re butting in.” You continue as you pull away from the hug, looking up at your dad who presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Well said kid.” Jake grins, ruffling your hair as you groan and swat at his hand.

“You staying for pizza and movie night, Bradley? I feel like you have to. You can even spend the night as long as you guys aren’t too loud.” You say, making both men blush at your last comment.

“She saw the hickeys.” Jake says with a laugh as he tugs down the hood of his hoodie, exposing the marks Bradley had left the night before.

“This is a good lesson of ‘do as I say not as I do’ because I don’t think your dad needs to be having heart attacks over hickeys any time soon.” Bradley says with a laugh as you fake gag and punch Bradley’s shoulder jokingly.

Neither Bradley nor Jake saw the afternoon at the café going any further than just a friendly chat over a cup of coffee but the courage that grabbed at both men in the café caused them to go down a road they never thought they’d get to go down. But they couldn’t have been more grateful for it. Even if it was a set-up caused by Hangman junior.

taglist (comment or message to be added):

@zbeez-outlet @kaceywithak

actually melting thinking about jack’s knowledge of anatomy plus of your body and how he puts it into practice like a clinician. a hot doctor who knows all your spots and will either hit them all at once or really drag it out to tease you?? he’ll take care of literally everything and do things to you that you didn’t even know you wanted or needed it’s deadly i’m dead

yeah, so this is my first time writing for Jack and it's probably a mess but I had to write something just to rip the bandaid off. thank you, anon for being my first Abbot ask. ilu with all my heart. 💙

warnings: 18+ mdni. Jack Abbot x afab!reader. fingering. asphyxiation. not super filthy.

Jack knows what you need before you do.

He can sense your energy and mood; the slightest imbalance.

Sometimes, all he needs to do is to curl a hand around the back of your neck, fingers softly tugging your hair, while he slides two fingers inside your cunt.

"I know, I know." He coos down at you. His piercing eyes keep you grounded as you gasp from the sudden stretch. "It's a lot. But you can take it."

The intense pressure builds and builds while he steadily works his sticky fingers in a come hither motion and smothers your clit with his thumb.

"Feel that?" He asks, curling his fingers against a hidden spot you had no idea about. Your body explodes, nerves spasming like lighting struck, but he keeps his hold locked tightly.

Deep and raspy, Jack laughs before tipping his head to steal your gaze. He waits until you nod before he continues. "That's a special little spot."

He hooks his fingers against the spot once more, forcing a shocked gasp from your lip as he stokes the fire burning deep in your belly.

A sly smirk tugs at the corner of his lip. "My favorite, actually."

Other times, when you're beyond stressed and need to forget about the world, Jack teases you until you cry in his arms. Keeping you stuffed full of his cock, thrusting over and over until you're on the cusp of bliss, only for him to pause and withdraw, leaving your empty cunt spasming around nothing.

He knows all you need is to take what he gives you. Pleasure, pain, or a mix of both. If he wants to, he'll take you apart piece by piece with his bare hands only to put your back together again.

Jack tempts fate when it's needed.

He moves quick and precise, curling a skilled hand around the front of your neck, letting the heavy weight settle on your sweaty, overheated skin until the time is right.

Another frantic mewl spills from your lips, along with fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Only then does Jack press his thumb down against your carotid.

He knows it's reckless.

With his cock buried deep, spreading your folds, he cuts just enough blood to make you woozy. He thrusts into your warmth with an endurance only army medical doctors have. He watches you tremble, your mouth bobbing like a fish out of water, waiting until he gives you any bit of solace.

Slowing your brain's blood flow can turn south real quick, but Jack enjoys the control. The feeling of you struggling under his touch.

The way you look at him like he's the only thing left in your world.

"Atta girl."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

Tony Starks Daughter- Series One~

Warnings: cussing, and Loki(lmao he needs a warning) 

Story Plotline: This is around age of Ultron, but its a little different Loki joins the avengers at Starks Tower to enjoy human life, one of his punishments, but he meets Tony Starks 21 year old daughter, but who very much like her father, but except was falling for Loki a little bit everyday.

Ps: So I know Loki, Scott Lang, or Spiderman is in age of Ultron but I just really love the dynamic, think of it as a secret universe telling the age of Ultron story, I hope you enjoy, I’m hoping to make this a long series so come long to enjoy this with me

word count:  4321

Being the daughter of Tony Stark was hard enough but being in the Avengers tower where they all treated you like a daughter was way worse. I was treated like a child most of the time when I was in fact 21 years old, so being treated like a child was the worst thing to feel as a 21 year old girl. I heard a soft knock on my door while I sat on my phone scrolling through my social media. 

“Yes?” I ask lifting my head a bit to look towards the door. Peter perks his head in smiling a bit.

“H-Hey Y/n, Mr. Stark told me to fetch you.” I scrunch my eyebrows confused. 

“Why didn’t he just ask Jarvis?” I usually ask if dad asked Jarvis to fetch me whenever it wasn’t so important but it must be serious if he asked Peter to fetch for me. 

“I-I don’t know Miss Stark he just asked me to fetch you.” Peter looked nervously at her.

“Peter you can call me Y/n I’ve told you this a million times kid.” I chuckled at the kid in front of me, he was definitely a shy one, but whenever his Spiderman came out he was more confident as Spiderman then peter parker. “Alright I’m coming I guess.” I mumble under my breath. Peter smiled confidently, opening the door for me. I head downstairs at dad’s little lair as I called it, even though he hated that I called it that “sounds like something for bad guys, and I definitely am not that Y/n” he would say each and everything time I said the name. “Hey dad, you asked for me?” I ask strutting into the room, hands in pocket. 

“Ah my beloved daughter, you’ve been trapped in your room, I just missed ya.” He says as he was building god knows what. 

“Alright dad, what do you need?” I giggled, rolling my eyes at my humorous dad. 

“Well, it’s not what I need, more like a warning daughter.” He stopped the humor and looked at me seriously. I cock my head to the side like a lost puppy.

“And that is?” I sit down on the chair next to him straddling the seat. 

“Well, Loki..” I wide my eyes mostly in anger, mostly in fear. 

“Loki?! Is he back?” I stood up from my chair picking at my cuticles. 

“No… I mean well yes but not like that, He’s going to be staying here, I’m not too fond of the idea, but Thor says he really is changing, that maybe normal human life would be good for him.” Dad says playing with his tools looking at her with concern. “I just want you to stay away from him, I have no idea if he’s changed or not, but I don’t want him around my daughter.” Dad strictly states putting his tools down and standing up.

“He’s changed? After ya know killing thousands of people, we’re just going to welcome him here after that?!” I exclaim rubbing my forehead a headache starting to form. “Dad I don’t know about this, how are we sure we’re going to trust him?” I turn my back on my dad still rubbing my forehead, it starts to hurt worse then it just did before. “Alright dad there shouldn’t be any problem staying away from him.. When is he coming?” My dad starts mumbling under his breath, I face him “Dad when is he coming?” Dad chuckled a bit, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Right now?” As he said that I heard a booming voice. 

“HEY GUYS LOOK MY BROTHER IS HERE TO ENJOY THE MORTAL WORLD!” I hear Thor boom. If looks could kill it would kill my dad. 

“I’ll yell at you later, we have to introduce a stupid God guest or whatever they’re called.” I scoffed my dad keeping his distance from me feeling the heat burn of my body with anger. I walk up with my dad back to the main living room. I cross my arms stomping like a child up the stairs… maybe that’s why everyone thinks I’m a child… 

“Oh looky what we have here Loki, we swear we missed you, especially since you left your mark on everyone here in New York.” My dad retorts. I widened my eyes at the low remark my dad made. I look up from the ground staring at the stupid go- oh my god, he was gorgeous. Fuck why did he do what he did. His hair was long silk black, he was tall and lanky, he wore this beautiful black suit that hugged his amazing figure. Loki looked up, locking eyes with my own. I tug at my sleeves a little taken back at his eyes, I couldn’t even look him straight in the eyes for some reason they imitated me. “I don’t know if you’ve met my daughter Y/n, but you are not to go anywhere near her, got me?” Loki crosses his arms, smirking slightly. My dad lifts his eyebrows, also crossing his arms walking closer to Loki. “Got me? Loki the emo.” Thor widens his eyes looking at the stance between the two, basically one trying to be more dominant then the other. 

“Alright alright, he understands, don’t ya brother!” Thor booms excited. Loki just nods, keeping quiet but observing the room around him. The whole crew eventually comes out greeting Loki, but keeping an eye on him. 

“Alright I think we should definitely have a party, with just us of course.” Scott Lang shouts grabbing the alcohol that was in my dad’s cabinets. “What ya say Stark! My dad was still glaring daggers at Loki, not 100% satisfied with Loki’s answer from earlier. 

“That’s fine but Y/n can’t join.” I whipped around from the conversation I was having with Natasha. 

“Um, is that your decision dad?” I quipped back at my father, I love him dearly but he really was a drama queen, huh I really did get my attitude from my dad. My dad lifts a questioning eyebrow at me. 

“You’re like 12.” Steve says, taking a swig of the beer that Scott handed him. 

“Steve! I’m 21 dude, at least I’m not like 100.” I sass Steve, doing a whole sassy head roll. 

“Wait, she’s 21?” Steve tries to remain serious but starts laughing when he takes another swing. “Ya know I’m only a joking doll.” I hum a bit swaying my hips moving towards the couch, didn’t realize I was sitting right next to Loki, damn was he quiet. 

“Hi, I’m Y/n.” I whispered while my dad was in a conversation with Thor, I knew I was supposed to stay away, and not really talk to him, but I was just being friendly. 

“Loki.” He states leaning back on the sofa. He just starts staring at me. “Why are you sitting next to me?” He asks, smirking a bit. I knew he was just trying to show his imitating side so nobody would talk to him or be near him, but I was of course used to my father being that imitating even though underneath all of that my dad was just a big old fluff ball. 

“I don’t know, you look interesting, I’m a curious person much like my father.” 

“Ah yes, Tony. I didn’t know he had a daughter. You in fact surprised me very much.” He states, damn this dude really just went straight to the point, which I didn’t really mind, straight to the point is better than oddly weird forced conversations. 

“Mhm, I am definitely a way better Stark.” I giggled a bit at the small smile he was forming on his face.

“Oh is that so?” Interesting.” My dad turned away from the Thor conversations to see Loki and I have a much enjoyable conversation. 

“Uh ah, this ain’t happening.” My dad squishes between Loki and I. “Y/n to your room now.” I groan a bit.

“I am a 21 year old adult, you still can’t make me go to my room.” 

“I said room, now, you live under my roof, Y/n Stark.” He pats my leg. “Now go.” I roll my eyes before standing up.

“Alright I’ll see you losers tomorrow, when you’re all hungover.” I smirked walking away into my room. God, I mean I did agree to not talk or be near Loki, but he was so interesting. He didn’t seem so terrible, I mean I think of New York and hate him, but I feel like deep down there’s something that nobody knows, I see a hurting man mostly, but I’m curious and I wanna dig deeper.

My throat starts getting dry in the middle of the night, god I hated getting up in the middle of the night just to hydrate god. I rolled out of my bed dragging my big snuggly blanket with me groggy walking out to the kitchen. I was so tired I didn’t see the figure standing in the kitchen. “Fuck!” I half screamed just noticing it was Loki standing there all mischievously drinking some water as well, guess we both had the same idea. 

“Oh hi Loki.” I groaned, desperately drinking the water I poured into my cup.  “Are you doing ok adjusting?” I question leaning back on the counter. 

“It’s better than a prison cell, so I’m doing better than I was.” He starts using his magic to play with his water. I smile at the stuff he was making with his magic. 

“That’s so cool…” I lean closer to him looking at his magic in detail, his magic was beautiful, it definitely is dangerous but beautiful as well. Loki looks down at me smiling a bit before quickly going back to his normal stoic look. 

“You mortals are too impressed by anything you see, hm?” He hums. 

“I just wish I had that kind of magic, I mean look around me, I have all these amazing people who literally save the world from danger with powers or with their talents, I just want to help people one day, and if I had that I would in an instant.” I grin and take my last sip of water. Loki looks down at the floor placing his cup down on the counter.

“My mother thought the same, she always used her powers for good… really was a disappointment of a son.” Loki sighs. I place my hand on Loki’s shoulder. 

“I highly doubt your mother is disappointed in you.” Loki looks up a bit through his hair that still stoic look on his face.

“Oh how would you know? You barely know me.” I shrug a bit knowing he was trying to cover his emotions by deflecting on me.

“Because I know parent’s, and your mom from what I’ve heard from Thor sounds like a lovely mother, I think she wanted best for you, you to love your life and make something out of it, now I know nothing about God’s, but that’s just what I think.” I place my cup in the sink, turning away from Loki about to walk off when I stop in my tracks and look at the broken man in my kitchen. “You’re always welcome to talk to me… I really do like to talk, so if you ever need someone here, I’m always here.” Loki somewhat smirks at the comment. 

“If you insist, love.” It rolled off his tongue somewhat easily, I bit my lip to stop the blush rushing up my face. I do a quick hum before rushing into my room. What did I get myself into…

“I know you were talking to him in the kitchen!” My dad screeches. I jolted awake my hair wild and I’m sure all over the place. 

“D-Dad.” I say tiredly I look at my phone groaning. “It’s literally 6:30AM!” I flop head back into my pillow before grabbing the pillow besides me placing it over my face, that was before my dad ripped it off my face.

“I said stay away and you apparently don’t listen.” I groan again, turning my back away from him.

“Another thing I get from you huh?” I remark glaring at the wall knowing my dad would get more upset if I glared at him.

“This is no time to joke Y/n, all I’m doing is protecting you.” I turn around to face him rolling my eyes so he can visually see.

“Dad he really doesn’t seem so terrible, he seems broken…” I say sitting up on my back against my bed frame. “I think he really wants to change, and be a better man God, I have no idea what to call him, whatever it doesn’t matter, I see it dad, please just trust me.” My dad grabs the chair on my desk bringing it close to my bed straddling the chair. 

“I just don’t want to see you hurt and I can see the attachment from a mile away.” I look down at my hands once again picking at my cuticles. God this was definitely a bad habit I needed to stop. 

“You can see that?” I ask my dad hums softly scratching at his beard. 

“I trust you kid, just please be careful, I’ll take him away if he does anything harmful to you, you come before anybody here, you got me?” I smile softly nodding a bit, he grabs my chin before kissing my forehead. “Now the team and I have a mission to attend to, Thor probably wants to celebrate tonight so be prepared for that.” I shake my head laughing at my favorite big god. 

“Alright sounds like a plan, be safe dad I love you 3000.” 

“No, I love you 3000.” He ruffles my hair. “Now go fix up you look like a zombie.” 

“Haha, go away.” I grab the bedsheets bringing them over my head groaning like a zombie, my dad starts laughing heading out the door. 

“Lazy ass.” 

“Everybody get their ass out here, we are going to partyyy.” I hear Thor boom, I walk just wearing simple black pants and a button down t-shirt. 

“Oh Thor, you look nice!” I exclaim, Thor chuckles, twirling his hammer around before placing it on the table. Everyone sits down, some start playing cards, some are drinking their hearts out after every mission. I swear they do this. Barton starts twirling his drumstick clearly drunk. 

“Dude, that is certainly a trick.” Barton says commenting on Thor’s hammer, Thor chuckles passing a drink to Steve sitting on the sofa next to him.

“Oh it’s certainly much more than that.” Barton starts laughing, pointing to the hammer imitating Thor’s voice. 

“He shall be worthy should the powwweerr.” he exclaims still pointing at the hammer in front of him  “Whatever man, it’s a trick!” Thor scoffs a bit knowing exactly what Barton got himself into.

“Oh I wouldn’t do that Barton.” I say sipping on my wine.

“Oh let him Y/n, please be my guest.” Thor says, pointing towards the hammer. Loki sneaks over and sits right next to me watching all these goons trying to pull on the hammer. 

“Even I’m a god, I wouldn’t embarrass myself like this.” Loki says, laughing a bit. Oh a laugh? He’s enjoying himself. I take another sip of my wine staring at Loki. 

“Once I tried myself to lift that hammer, but nah nothing.” I say bumping into Loki’s shoulder a bit in a teasing way. “And I think I’m pretty worthy.” Loki smiles again.

“I would think so too.” Loki mumbles under his breath. That’s when we all heard it, a blaring noise. I cover my ears.

“Dad what the hell is happening?!” I ask was that Jarvis? Did something happen? We all looked towards the clunky noise when I saw, wait is that Jarvis?

“Jarvis?” My dad asked playing his pad that controlled the place. He starts speaking some nonsense, about how he killed someone and all the crew questioning him. I stand up, Loki does as well grabbing my arm to put me behind him. Ultron sent him… what is happening right now. Loki grabs his daggers from his sleeve, Thor holds onto his hammer waiting for any attack that will happen. 

“I’m here on a mission.” Ultron says in his disgusting robotic voice.

“What mission?” Natasha says sternly. 

“Peace of our time.” Ultron says looking at everyone in the group when two other robots come out the wall, Steve kicks up the table to block the robots from coming towards him, Loki grabs me and pushes me towards the floor out of the way of danger. That’s when everything began, everyone started protecting and fighting. I haven’t seen them in action since New York, and god they were good at their job. 

“Stay here.” Loki puts me near the piano to stay away from the danger God. I wish I could help. I wasn’t trained, my dad never let me learn. That’s when one of Ultron’s army finds me and starts pointing his weapon arm at me, that’s when Steve grabs the thing and throws it away from me, Thor slamming his hammer down on it. I see my dad floating on top of the robots trying to break down the thing. 

“Get Y/n out of here now!” I groaned standing up. I needed to help, so I grabbed Steve’s shield. 

“Steve!” I throw the shield towards Steve when he slams it on the robot, my dad finally defeating the robot. 

“Well that was dramatic.” Ultron says wobbling away from the scene a bit. 

“Dad!” I run towards my dad who slumps himself on the stairs.

“Y/n I told you to get away.” My dad whispers. 

“I can’t, Loki tried but I can’t not just leave and not help.” I hold onto my dad glaring at Ultron.

“I’m sorry I know you mean well, you just didn’t think it through.” Steve starts walking forward towards Ultron but stops in his tracks when he starts speaking again. “You want to protect the world, but you don’t want it to change. How is humanity saved if it’s not allowed to evolve?” Ultron grabs the robot in front of him by the head. “With at ease with these puppets.” He crushes the head “There’s only one path to peace, the avengers extinction.” Thor grabs his hammer, throwing it at Ultron’s chest shattering him into pieces.

“Loki get her out of here.” Loki grabs me by the arm when I hear his words. 

“I had strings but now I’m free.” I gasp a bit looking at my dads worried face as Loki brings me to my room. He sits me down on my bed kneeling in front of me.

“Are you okay?” He asks, brushing his fingers lightly across my knuckles. I gasped at the contact nodding a bit. 

“I’m fine… but I didn’t do anything to help, I’m a failure.” I cross my arms, basically cuddling myself. “I need to train. I need to help.” Loki chuckles a bit, rubbing the back of his head. 

“I don’t think your father would be too fond of that idea.” I look up at Loki smirking, that’s when he looks at me eyes wide.

“No.” He states. 

“Come on please train me, my dad doesn’t need to know.” He groans, basically ripping his hair. I could tell he was scared that I didn’t even know how to protect myself in that position. 

“I’m already on your fathers bad list but now secretly training you. I don’t know love…” She grinned that word again. He only said it when he was vulnerable and it made my heart burst. Glad I can make him that way. 

“Please Loki. I want to protect myself and others if I have to. Please.” I beg. Loki looks into my puppy dog eyes sighing giving in. 

“Fine but we do this early in the morning before anybody else gets up. Got me? My way.” He demanded. I nodded. 

“How early is early?” I ask nicely but also scared for the answer. 

“5AM.” He sternly states “I’ll meet you in the morning love.” He smirks before walking out of my door and I couldn’t help but blush at the way he was being. I heard the door open again looking up to expect Loki but saw my dad walking through the door. 

“Dad!” I stand up wrapping my arms around his neck. 

“Are you okay kiddo?” My dad asks, wrapping me back into a hug smoothing my hair down. 

“I’m fine dad, are you okay?” I pull back looking at his busted lip. “Dad..”  He pulls away from me.

“Honey I’m fine, come on I’m Iron Man I’ve done worse to my face.” He smiles brightly at me.

“I wish I can help, fight alongside you guys, I hate that y'all need to protect me.” MY dad shakes his head putting his hand up to stop me from talking.

“No, I’m your father, that’s my job to protect you first, it’s too dangerous out there sweetie. I can’t have you out there fighting.” He rubs his forehead. 

“Dad… I need to lea-”

“No means no. Now get a decent sleep, we’ll talk tomorrow, I love you 3000 honey.” My dad stops me from talking any longer. He grabs my head kissing the top of it a bit longer than he usually does. “I will protect you as long as I can dove.” He messes up my hair before walking out. I sat down on my bed exhaling the breath I was holding in. He’s really not going to like me if he finds out about me training.

“Oh there she is late.” Loki exclaims. I exhaustingly walk into the training room, walking in with my black tights, and my black crop top. 

“Shut up.” I grumble under my breath, I look at Loki as he stares intensely at me. “What?” I question nervously twirling my hair before grabbing my hair and putting it in a bun to try to keep out of my face. 

“N-Nothing, I um.” Loki clears his throat. “Just thinking about what we were gonna get started with.” I lifted my brow at how difficult he was already being this morning. 

“Well probably some stretches?” I ask radiating a soft smile, he gives me a slight cheerful smile back.

“Uh yes, that we definitely have to start out with that.” We start stretching for a bit. “Come on, really stretch the body love, here.” Loki walks over to me standing behind me grabbing my arm and holding it across my body to really stretch out my arms, but I caught my breath when he starts to hold me close, of course he wasn’t intentionally doing it, but he was so close I could barely bear it. His face was close to mine, If I turned my head at him at all we would be inches away. No come on I needed to train instead of trying to bang some type of God…. but oh hell would that be amaz- no come we’re not doing this. I shake my head slightly not even realizing he stepped away from me and was trying to grab hold of my attention. 

“Alright first things first, some combat training. We’re going to start with just you hitting this, and then we’re actually going to combat, got it?” I nod my mouth still dry from the thoughts surrounding my head. 

“Y-Yes, got it.” I rub my arms walking closer to the punching bag starting out from what I knew but Loki shook his head.

“See I’m not even a fighter really, and I know how to punch better than that.” He laughed as he stood behind me grabbing my hips. “Keep these straight, don’t strain them so much, you lose a lot of power when you do, your form is so far amazing with hitting but you’re losing all your stamina.” He grabs my hips keeping them still, he keeps them placed for a little longer before moving his hands awkwardly. “You’re a Stark, you can do this.” Loki starts teaching me how to punch, kick, and all of the above before we actually get started on hand to hand combat. “Alright” We both got on the training mat. I can already feel the soreness overtaking my body. “This will be a bit harder but I promise I’ll go easy on you okay?” I scoffed, cracking my knuckles trying to show off my competitive side.

“No please don’t I need to train.” Loki smirks getting into his ready position.

“If you say so, love.” I died a little bit inside knowing he was trying to distract me. Loki lunges forward at me grabbing my arm and flipping me over, damn I was already beat. “Hm so easy or not?” I groaned holding onto my side that he slammed me on the mat. 

“Fuck you we’re doing this right.” I stand right back up dusting myself up. I lunge towards Loki and he once again does this a million others times until I start seeing his weak points, he always grabbed towards the same arm. 

“You wanna stop?” He asked teasingly. I grunt, throwing my head back also looking at him smirking a bit. 

“Hell no.” He lunges towards me again and as I was right going towards the same arm. I grab his other arm kicking his legs on balance until wrapping my legs around his dropping him down cradling him onto but barely inches to his face. I look into greenish blue eyes sucking in my breath as he does the same. I inch closer to his face right about to fully kiss this man I barely knew.  “Oh Stark isn’t going to like this.” I jumped up off Loki, looking up to see Natasha. Fuck. 

Tommy Shelby & Clara Shelby

✵ The Walk-In Appointment: May 1909. Clara learns to walk a bit later than her twin, but once she does there’s no stopping her from following her big brother around wherever he goes. 

✵ Tired of the Wait: 1912. When Tommy brings his sisters downtown with him to run an errand and Ada decides to run one of her own, Tommy and Clara both grow tired of waiting on their sister.

✵ Interminable Moonlight: Tommy meets Greta by the cut in the moonlight.

✵ Our Bloody Idiot: 1913. Tommy may very well be a bloody idiot, but Clara still thinks he deserves a piece of cake.

✵ The Horsewoman: 1913. Clara and Finn are ready to start school, but Clara is a bit hesitant. Thankfully, her older brother Tommy knows how to negotiate.

✵ The Devil’s Footsteps: 1913. Tommy’s taken on quite a bit of responsibility in caring for his younger siblings. He never expected that responsibility would require him explaining the inappropriateness of tossing erasers at people. 

✵ For Old and Young Alike: Set in 1913 and 1922. All Clara Shelby wants for Christmas is a little quality time with her favorite people. 

✵ The Road that Leads to Trouble: 1914. The Shelby dinner table is rarely a thing one would call quiet or calm, and it’s no different on the night the family learns their youngest has been kissing boys out on the lane.

✵ Like the Leaves: 1914. In the wake of Greta’s passing, Tommy’s little sister offers him some comfort.

✵ Things They Left Behind - Parts 1-3: 1918. John, Arthur, and Tommy have just returned from France to rediscover the things they’ve left behind: Ada, a set of twins, the business, and a few treasures their youngest sister has been keeping safe for them. *COMPLETED*

✵ The Shelby Inheritance: 1918. When Clara and Finn are being teased at school, Tommy helps them get things sorted.

✵ Thank you. I can take it from here: 1918. Clara Shelby wants to bake her brother a special treat for his birthday but needs a bit of assistance in gathering ingredients.  

✵ Little Lady Blinder Series: 1919. Clara Shelby is a kind girl, a smart girl, a well-behaved little sister in a town full of gangsters and ruffians. With the girl’s raising thus far being such a simple task, the Shelby family is left unprepared for all that accompanies a perfectly respectable little girl growing up and becoming a lady among Peaky Blinders.

✵ The Shelby Women’s Alliance: 1920. Clara navigates the first milestone of puberty on her own in a house full of clueless brothers, keeping it all to herself until Ada comes at the weekend and takes over, managing their brother and formally inducting her sister into the Shelby Woman’s Alliance.

✵ Warmth: 1920. It takes a special sort of person to fall asleep during a birthday party at the pub. Turns out it takes a special kind of person to wake them too.

✵ A Small Comfort: 1921. When Clara’s horse gets sick, Tommy tries to shield her from seeing the worst of it, but Clara has her own plans.

✵ Seeing Stars: 1921. When Finn, Isiah, and Clara get themselves in to trouble with Polly, they’re left in the church to wait on their comeuppance.

✵ Kind Eyes: 1922. Clara finds herself in Tommy’s office, studying a picture on his desk, searching for a resemblance to a mother who looks nothing like her.

✵ Something: 1922. Tommy has sensed a change in the way his youngest sister relates to the boys of Small Heath.

✵ Give Away: 1922. It’s a family day—Arthur and Linda’s wedding day—but rather than celebrating, Arthur’s got Tommy thinking about something he’d never consciously given much thought to—their Clara’s wedding and who would be giving her away.

✵ A Candle in the Darkness: 1923. Clara may be growing older, but she still needs her brother Tommy from time to time.

✵ The Council: 1923. The boy’s reaction to fifteen-year-old Clara Shelby being friends with the Watery Lane boys. 

✵ Close-knit: 1923. It’s Christmas 1923, otherwise known as the year of Clara’s Christmas sweaters.

✵ You’re Not Me: 1924. When Clara’s running herself ragged preparing for an exam, Tommy steps in to reassure her.

✵ You’ve always been naive: 1925. After an epic row, Tommy allows Clara to stay more regularly on Watery Lane with a few conditions, one of which is a mid-week meeting at the Midland Hotel to check in.

✵ My Person: 1925. Clara and Isiah haven’t talked in weeks but after a drunken night filled with a break up and scrapping in Small Heath, Isiah insists on going out to Arrow House to see her. 

✵ Bloody Rotten: 1925ish. Clara’s feeling bloody rotten, but thankfully her brother arrives home just in time to look after her.

✵ A Big, Beautiful Fellow: 1926. Tommy didn’t set out to bribe his sister and win back her good graces, but when the opportunity presents itself…

✵ They Waited for You: 1927. Tommy’s been away in London and Clara tries to bring him home to Arrow House, to be present for his son and daughter, and for her.

✵ Stars in the Sky: 1927. Clara Shelby is feeling overwhelmed with trying to balance university, family, and business responsibilities, but that doesn’t stop her from noticing something is off with her brother. When have her own problems ever stopped her from trying to fix someone else’s?

✵ Gestures of Fairness: 1927. Thomas Shelby isn’t ticklish, at least that’s what a few decades of Clara’s intel says. Charles and Clara test the theory of his god-like ability to remain stoic in the face of writhing fingers. 

✵ Five of Swords: 1929. An evening of tarot cards and forgiveness.

✵ A Little Raven: 1930ish (AU). Lizzie and Clara have a chat about Lizzie’s concerns, for the children she’s raising without much help from their father, the baby growing in her belly, the twins so eager to prove themselves, and the Shelby curse. Clara tries to offer a bit of comfort, but its Tommy coming home early on a Friday that assuages her concerns.

✵ Family Meeting - Modern AU Tommy, Isiah, and Clara

✵ LITTLE LADY BLINDER MASTERLIST ✵

Jealous (jack abbott x f!reader)

18+ account - minors do not interact

jack abbott x f!reader Word Count: 2.3K Rating: E

Summary: You’re jealous of Dr. Walsh.

Warning: newly established relationship, a sir mention, insecurity, jealousy, pet names, love confessions, commanding jack? dirty talk (he’s filthy your honor), sexual touching, some nipple play, 1 pussy slap, praise, oral sex (f receiving), description and mentions of p in v sex and creampie

A/N: I'm really nervous to be writing for a new man, but y’all have convinced me to write some Jack. I need him. Competency kink activated. Also there are so many spellings for his last name. Maybe I fucked up the tagging. Don’t yell at me, this is a world where he’s not working overnight shifts. I need him on the same schedule as me lol. And I know the title isn’t creative at all, but I hope you guys like it and that the characterization feels right. Ok, I'm going to run away now!

Thank you so much for reading! If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging thots.

The hospital was busy.

You were reviewing your messages with Jack to see if he had responded to your most recent text.

Jack: Lunch. 1200 hours. Hospital cafeteria. Confirm you’re en route.

You: Got it, Sir. On my way :)

Jack: Sounds good. See you soon.

You: Which cafeteria should I meet you at, handsome? Main or West wing?

To the average person, his texts would seem blunt—no emojis, no small talk, just clear instructions. But you were used to it. Jack’s communication style was efficient, to the point, and reassuring in its simplicity.

As you strolled down the hallway, you spotted him at the reception, engaged in a conversation with Dr. Walsh. You had met her recently at a gala event Jack had invited you to—an event that felt like a big deal, especially since Jack never explicitly defined your relationship.

He never asked you to be his girlfriend, never put a label on what you had, but the way he introduced you to his colleagues made it clear that you mattered to him. Still, you couldn’t help but compare yourself to Dr. Walsh. She was a surgeon like Jack. She was beautiful, confident, and clearly intelligent—someone who moved through her world with ease and authority. And you… well, you were just… you.

You worked for a dermatologist at a medical spa as an esthetician and were primarily trained in skincare treatments for facials, laser treatments, and other cosmetic procedures. As you watched Jack chatting with Dr. Walsh, a strange tightness settled in your chest. You felt a flicker of insecurity that you hadn't anticipated.

Your job at the medical spa was fulfilling, but it was different. You helped people feel beautiful and confident, while he and his colleagues worked tirelessly behind the scenes in surgeries to save lives. Sometimes, you wondered what Jack thought of your work when he was surrounded by women with 'real careers' as you sometimes called them in your mind—women with medical degrees, impressive resumes, and professional accomplishments that seemed to tower over your own. You caught yourself questioning if your job was enough, if it made you seem less serious or less worthy of his attention.

You watched as Jack laughed at something Dr. Walsh said, a genuine smile lighting up his face. It was easy and unguarded. Suddenly, a surge of jealousy washed over you.

Is this why he hadn’t answered you?

You looked away, feeling a flicker of discomfort.

Without thinking, you pulled out your phone and quickly typed out a message. Your fingers hesitated for a moment before you pressed send:

You: Something came up at work. I have to turn around. Sorry, I’ll catch up later.

A moment later, your phone buzzed with a reply from Jack.

Jack: I’ll see you later tonight?

You stared at the screen, your heart pounding. You didn’t respond. Instead, you slipped the phone into your pocket and turned around.

As the clock edged toward the end of your shift, you sighed softly, finally able to relax after a busy day. Slipping out of your professional attire, you changed into comfortable leggings and a tank top, the kind you loved to lounge in after a long day.

You moved around your apartment, tidying up casually, your mind still drifting back to the encounter earlier with Jack and Dr. Walsh. Just as you settled onto your sofa with a cup of tea, the faint sound of a knock at the door startled you. You sat up and lazily scratched your head, walked over, and opened the door to find Jack standing there.

He was holding a bag of takeout from your favorite Thai place—the one where you first met.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said softly, holding out the bag. "I thought you might be hungry."

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. You hadn’t responded to his text, and yet here he was at your door with your favorite food. For a moment, you remembered that night—accidentally grabbing his take-out order at the restaurant, and how he had tapped on your shoulder with that confident smile, saying, "Excuse me miss, I think that’s mine." You had been blown away by his handsome face and easy charm.

Without thinking too much, you leaned in and quickly pressed a soft, quick kiss to his cheek, murmuring, "Thanks, Jack."

His eyes, sharp and steady, studied you as you took the takeout bag from his hands and invited him inside. "So, you couldn’t make it to the hospital. What happened at work? Everything alright?"

You offered a small, somewhat evasive smile as you set the takeout on the table and began arranging the dishes. "Oh, you know, just some stuff that came up. Nothing serious."

Jack’s brow furrowed slightly. A subtle crease.

He stepped a little closer, his eyes narrowing just enough to suggest he wasn’t buying your quick brush-off. He reached out to gently cup your chin, turning your face towards his so he could assess your expression more closely. "Why are you lying?"

"I’m not—"

"I saw you leave the hospital. That means you weren’t in your car, turning around when you sent your text. Just to be clear, I saw you walk out and head back the way you came." His words were blunt, matter of fact, as if stating a simple observation rather than questioning. There was no anger in his voice.

You felt your cheeks burn slightly at his directness, the weight of his gaze pressing into you. Looking down slightly, you bit your lip nervously before murmuring, "It's stupid."

Jack’s hand lingered on your chin for a moment longer. Then, with a measured motion, he lowered his hand, his fingers sliding away from your face. Without hesitation, he reached around your waist, pulling you gently but firmly closer to him.

"Talk to me." His words were deliberate, each syllable carefully chosen, embodying his disciplined, no-nonsense demeanor. You knew you couldn't keep hiding your feelings from Jack, especially because he was so perceptive when it came to you. After only three months together, he had you memorized.

You hesitated for a moment, then muttered, "She's pretty."

He looked confused. "Who?"

"Dr. Walsh," you replied simply. "Emery." It felt weird saying her name.

There was a brief pause before he responded, "Some might find her attractive." His words were straightforward, devoid of unnecessary emotion.

"Do you?" you asked softly, searching his face for an answer.

Your hands flew to his shoulders in surprise when he grabbed you just below your ass and sat you on the edge of your dining table. "Where is this coming from?" he asked, a puzzled look on his face. He was waiting for you to explain.

"Listen, maybe I’ve watched too much Grey’s Anatomy or something, but don’t doctors like fucking other doctors? I mean, you and her, Emery—Dr. Walsh—you guys understand each other’s jobs, schedules, and lives. Sometimes, you talk to me about your work, and I feel like a dumbass. I barely passed biology in high school," you admitted with a nervous laugh, your eyes flickering with uncertainty. "I’m just an esthetician. I just think—"

You saw his eyes tighten slightly, and then he cut you off by leaning in and capturing your lips in a firm kiss. When he pulled back just enough, his jaw, usually set with a composed firmness, relaxed just a fraction. He reached up, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, his touch steady—every movement controlled, precise, almost methodical in its tenderness.

"You know," he began, voice smooth but firm, "I like that you’re not a doctor."

"You do?"

"Yes. I respect what you do. It’s honest, it’s real. I really love hearing about your work. It’s different from what I do, and honestly, I don’t always fully understand it. Sometimes, I’m not even sure I get all the skincare stuff or the procedures you do. But that doesn’t matter to me. Because I see how passionate you are, and how much you love what you do."

He paused briefly, his brow slightly furrowed in a gesture of thoughtfulness, the kind of measured, meticulous expression that signaled he was choosing his words carefully—like he was preparing for a precise incision. "And I want you to know—the only person I find pretty is you. I’m not looking at anyone else. I don’t want anyone else. I only want you. I love you."

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

You blinked since you couldn’t quite believe what you’d just heard. "You love me?"

Jack’s expression remained calm, every line of his face composed and controlled. "You’re asking if I love you? Well, you’re the only thing I want to keep at the center of my life. You are my top priority. No extraneous variables. No distractions. Just you. So—yes. I love you. Because everything else in my world orbits around that truth."

You felt your heart pounding in your chest. His words left no room for doubt; they were full of certainty. You had never been with a man who made you feel so clearly that he was sure of you. Slowly, your voice broke through the silence. "Jack," you whispered. "I… I love you, too. I feel like I’ve always loved you. Is that strange?"

Jack’s military background and his disciplined exterior had always been his armor, a way to keep his feelings in check. But in this moment, as your eyes met and your declaration hung softly between you, you saw his armor waver. His breath hitched slightly, a fleeting hitch in his otherwise controlled breathing. He cleared his throat, a low, almost imperceptible sound, and with a final, measured breath, he pulled you gently into his arms to kiss you slowly.

Your mouth fell open the second his tongue probed softly at your lips. You closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth of his tongue, tasting his desperation, and your body reacted immediately, throwing your arms and legs around him. A soft groan slid through his lips when your fingers pulled through his hair, and he pressed himself against you, grinding his hard cock between your legs.

He shoved your tank top up above your breasts, teasing your nipples with his thumbs, causing you to moan loudly. You watched as he drank in your naked upper half, and then he took the swell of one of your breasts in his hand and dropped his mouth over one nipple, circling his tongue around it.

"Fuck, yes Jack!" the words spilled from you in a breathless wrecked moan when he began to suck on your breast and make a mess out of you before switching to the other one. Your clothed pussy was desperate for the friction of his cock through his scrub bottoms, and he groaned deliciously when he felt your hips roll upward, chasing his cock. Suddenly, he pushed you down so that you were lying on your back of the dining room table while he was on top of you. You weren’t sure how it had happened, but suddenly your leggings had been ripped off your body, and he had pulled off your tank top.

You observed him with hooded eyes as his large, warm hands trailed back up your legs, and then he gently pushed at your thighs, spreading them apart. He let out a low groan when his gaze devoured you pussy.

"I only want your pussy. Do you understand me?" he said, collecting some of your slick with his fingers and rubbing them against your clit.

"Jack—"

"Repeat after me: You only want my pussy," he commanded.

You were dripping on the table at his voice. At his words. You felt them in your skin. You couldn’t speak, and he took your silence as shyness. And well, that wasn’t going to fly with Jack.

"Don’t like repeating myself," he murmured and lifted his hand to give a stinging smack to your pussy, the impact making you let out a soft, breathy moan, your voice quivering with ecstasy as pleasure washed over you.

You kept your eyes on him, and your mind went fuzzy. "You only want my pussy."

He hummed his approval. “Good girl,” He kissed the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs, and you squirmed on the table, hips bucking slightly in anticipation.

"I think I need a little appetizer before dinner." He smirked, and licked a long wide stripe along your pussy, groaning at the taste of you, eyes closing and brows furrowing in concentration. He ate at you like a man starved, the wet muscle of his tongue giving you so much pleasure, and you started to rock your hips against his mouth.

He was always so good at this. Just as competent and sure as he was in everything else.

Minutes later, you came so hard, your vision blurred.

And later that night when he fucked you after giving you another mind-numbing orgasm, you felt tears fill your eyes at the strangled "Oh fuck, I love you," that left his lips when his body erupted, and you felt his spend dripping down your thighs.

"I love you too, Jack,"

He lied on top of you, face buried in the curve of your neck. Both of you were sticky hot and hot, exhaustion pulling at your eyelids. A wave of dizziness washed over you, and you could feel the vibration of him saying something against your throat, but your brain was mush.

Tomorrow, you would surprise him and visit him during lunch. His smile would paralyze you. And he would tell everyone sitting at the cafeteria table with him: "you guys remember my girl?"

A/N: Should I do a version where Jack is jealous? Where are the jealous jack abbott fics!?

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Just In Case (Dr Jack Abbot x FemaleResident!Reader)

Summary: He had given Robby so much shit about Collins. "Really brother? One of your residents?" Then you had put in a request to move to the night shift and Robby had fucking signed off on it.

Warning: all my content is considered 18+ only, smut, age gap unspecified, reader is one of Jacks resident, fluff, smut, angst, happy ending, as always barely proofread or edited plz forgive me

A quick note: I know I promised this forever ago, but I'll be completely honest, this is NOT the story I started out to write! But holy fuck it took over with a mind of it's own and I really love the way it turned out so I hope y'll do too!! also, again, shout-out to the gif creater above because this one's still my fav

ENJOY!

~~~~~

He had given Robby so much shit about Collins. "Really brother? One of your residents?"

Then you had put in a request to move to the night shift and Robby had fucking signed off on it.

Jack liked you from the jump. Smart, witty, a little dark like he was and not afraid to jump into the chaos with no need to know how deep. You had fit right in on his shift and for a long time you were just his best resident. His BEST, fucking resident, because God you were good. Every trauma, every code, every shitty shift you were right there doing the work and it was clear you loved all of it.

Jack had asked Robby one morning, "So, what's the deal? Why'd you let her go? You usually like to keep the star pupils to yourself."

Robby had just made that face at him, that annoying one with the shrug. "Thought I'd make her your problem for awhile."

Then the next night Jack had to split up you and the R4 in the middle of the hub. "What in the actual fuck are you two doing?" His presence had been enough to put some distance between the both of you, but you were pissed and the R4 was not letting it go.

"She walked all over my case."

"Because you were fucking it up! That girl did not have time to wait, and I told you that three times."

"And I told you to stay in your lane, I'm your senior resident."

"You are a dipshit, that was going to kill that girl by lack of action."

"Enough." Jack didn't yell. He didn't need to. He stood, hands clasped behind his back, face hard and waited.

"Dr. Abbot, she has authority issues, and it's interfering with her patient care and everyone elses."

"I don't have an issue with authority," If looks could kill the R4 would have dropped dead. Then you turned that look on him and it didn't have the venom in it, but the fight was there, that unwavering confidence, "I have a problem with misplaced authority."

Jack had held your gaze as you'd said it then nodded. He'd sent you both on your separate ways and excused himself to the bathroom where he took a leak and then stood with his hands braced on the sink as he stared himself down in the mirror. "What the fuck?" He whispered to himself as he rocked side to side and shook his head at his own reflection. He should've been annoyed at you two, not himself, but something about that look you had given him. It was like it had flipped some sort of switch. Like suddenly you weren't just his best resident, you were also…

The bathroom door swung open, "Dr. Abbot, we have a code blue coming in, ETA 5 minutes."

He nodded, "Set up trauma two."

Every shift after that he caught himself thinking things he should not be thinking about his resident. Yes you were his best resident, talented and dedicated, but you were also gorgeous. Not that he had never noticed, but now it was something he couldn't help but pay attention to. In between patients, when you passed by him or stood a little too close, he felt his pulse quicken. He couldn't help but watch you a little closer, the way you were so soft and calm with nervous patients, the way you didn't take shit from the combative ones. The confidence you had in your abilities and the drive you had to be better.

Your eyes. Those beautiful fucking eyes that never shied away from him. Your smile. Not big and bright or soft or sweet. No, the one that drove him fucking crazy? That was the tiny one, the barely there tick of your lips, up to one side before you could fight it back. That one was his favorite, because it felt like he had to earn that one. Like he had done something, just enough, to get you to crack. Like there was something you were trying to keep to yourself and if he said the right thing, did the right thing, you'd show him what it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long night. A long week. Jack had gone up for some air and some quiet. He had his back leaned against the railing and hands in his pockets, eyes trained on the horizon.

The access door opened and he furrowed his brow. Robby wasn't working today.

When he looked over his shoulder the last person he had expected to see was you, just standing there with one of your easy smiles. "Need me, you could have called."

You just shrugged as you came closer. "Don't need anything, Day shift is trickling in." You came to lean next to him. Close enough to touch. "You good boss?"

Jack glanced sideways at you. Your hair was falling down, eyes tired, smile careful. He had to fight the urge to lean towards you, close that distance just to touch, even if it was just your shoulder against his. He shook his head, "Just one of those nights. You good?"

You nodded, leaned over the railing carefully to look down, "Do you actually think about it? When you come up here or is it just... a thing you do?"

He's not sure he would have been more surpised if you had slapped him. He looked at you long and hard. When you didn't flinch, didn't shy away, he shrugged. "Depends on the day." Jack cracks a little smirk for you, to ease the tension.

You smile back at him, unphased, as you stood up a little straighter. His eyes track your every move as you lean across the railing.

Jack had been wrong when he thought he couldn't be more surprised if you'd slapped him. Becuase the last thing he would have ever expected was that you would lean across the railing and kiss him.

It wasn't anything crazy. A quick brush of your lips over his. Not long enough. When you didn't pull back all the way he watched you close. Studied you. "Just in case." You shrugged as you finally stepped back.

You were about to turn and leave when he asked, "In case what?"

You gave him another smile, this time with something in your eyes that you didn't try to hide from him as the sun crept up over the skyline. "In case tonight was one of those nights."

It wasn't. It was one of those nights, but not one of THOSE nights. Jack liked that it hadn't been some big thing. Quick and light. He liked that you hadn't hesitated. He liked that if it had been one of those nights, you thought a kiss would have changed something. It changed everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You know, the park beers is really more of a day shift thing."

You turned to the side and inwardly scolded yourself for not hearing him approach. "No beer." You shrugged but didn't offer up anything else.

Jack took another step closer, "Thinkin' about that kid?" He shrugged his backpack up higher and waited for your response.

You looked him over and even after the night you'd had, you had to fight back a smile because he looked good. This was your favorite version of Dr. Jack Abbot. Cargo pants, hair a mess and he'd pulled his scrub top off at some point and had worked the last couple hours in just atight, black t-shirt. You took a deep breath, "You goin' to tell me I did everything I could?"

He shook his head, "You already know that."

You nodded, "Yep."

"C'mon, I'll give you a ride home."

"Why?" You looked up at him, skeptical.

The grin he gave you washed all that away, "Just in case."

You thought maybe it would be awkward, letting Jack drive you home after what you'd done on the roof four shifts ago. It wasn't. Then when he had pulled up in front of your building, you thought for sure it would be awkward, but it wasn't. He just put the truck in park and tipped his head to catch your eye, "Go get some sleep okay." When you didn't move right away, he gave you a little nod, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You felt sick to your stomach suddenly, like you had been very wrong. "Jack…If I…"

He draped his wrist over the steering wheel and his eyes were soft, "Tomorrows a new day."

"Get that from Robby?" you tried to swallow down the bile in your throat, force a smile.

Jack shrugged, gave you a smirk. "Maybe. I mean it, get some sleep."

You had started to climb out of the truck, but your hand paused on the handle. You were always something of a go big or go home kind of girl. So, you turned back, leaned across the console and didn't give yourself or Jack the chance to think twice. You kissed him again. More than a quick peck this time and the air rushed out of your lungs when his lips moved with yours, slow and steady.

You were about to pull back when you felt the hand that had been draped over the steering wheel cradle the back of your head and keep you there.

When Jack did eventually let you pull away his eyes locked onto yours. "What was that for?"

You whispered, scared to get your hopes up, "Just in case I don't get another chance."

He dropped his head back against the headrest and held your gaze, "If I promise you'll get another chance, will you go upstairs and get some rest?" When you nodded he cracked a little smile, "I'll see you tomorrow."

~~~~~~

Giving you a ride home became a thing, not after every shift but more and more.

It felt like you both just craved that little bit of time alone, together. It wasn't even something seedy or scandalous, he would just... drive you home.

Sometimes you'd kiss him, sometimes he'd reach out for your hand and hold it the whole way to your apartment. At some point it turned into drive thru coffee. He didn't just pull up out front anymore, he'd park in a spot and you would talk.

Jack told you about his wife first. The broken part of him figured; get the rough stuff out of the way first. If you were going to change your mind that would do it, and he'd rather deal with it sooner than later. He told you and you had just held his hand, your thumb working circles over his palm with tears in your eyes. "I don't have the words Jack, God I wish I did..."

He didn't need you to have the words. The look in your eyes unwavering and the grip on his hand was enough. He had just shaken his head, throat still hoarse and had lifted the back of your hands to his lips. That was enough.

He told you about his leg. You never flinched once and this time it was him that stroked his thumb over your palm. Back and forth, where they rested together on the console. You had just leaned forward, held his gaze and told him it made him more of a man.

He told you about his PTSD, explained his little visits to the roof, told you about his therapist. You said you were proud of him, and leaned over to kiss him and steal the last bagel bite out of his lap. Jack had grinned, watched the way your face lit up to see it, even if your eyes were a little misty. "I want to tell him about you..." Jack waited, watched you like his life depended on it. Because, even then he knew this couldn't be casual, not for him, and if it was real he was going to do it right.

You had laughed and he panicked for half a second before you leaned in to kiss him again. "You mean, we've been working together this long and you haven't already complained about me to your therapist?"

He laughed, and God it felt like a gulp of air. He sank his hand into your hair and slammed your mouth to his. Kissed you like you'd never been kissed before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning you had whispered, "Come upstairs?" He'd thought he might combust then and there. He had searched your eyes. Those gorgeous fucking eyes that never wavered under his. He'd never forget the pretty way you bit your lip, or the way your eyes flashed with something he hadn't seen yet when he gave you one more quick kiss and turned off his truck.

Any lingering thought or rationalization that you could be something casual went out the fucking window the moment you let him press you up against the inside of your apartment door and kiss you the way he'd been wanting to for months.

The way you gasped and moaned so pretty for him when he pinned your wrists over your head with one hand and slipped the other inside your scrub pants. "Jesus Christ sweetheart..." He murmured into your ear when he felt how hot and wet you were for him.

"Jack," Your eyes fluttered closed as he eased the first, thick finger inside you, "Shit." You fidgeted, tried to chase his hand with your hips, but you didn't fight his hold on your wrists or the way he pressed you into the hard surface. You groaned, showed your teeth in something between a smile and a snarl as he gave you a second finger, but did not change his rythym.

He kept his strokes slow, steady, deep. Kissed every part of you he could reach at this angle. Your neck, the hollow of your throat the shell of your ear, before always returning to your mouth. "Feel good?"

You nodded, frantic, gave him an airy, 'Mhmm."

"Yeah?" He mouthed at the soft spot just below your ear as he finally sped up his movements and felt the way your pussy quivered and clenched around his fingers. Jack smiled as he moved up to rest his forhead against yours, "Yeah..." He answered himself as he studied your face, felt the warm puffs of air as you panted and gasped, his palm resting over your clit as he drove his fingers deeper.

"Oh shit, shit," Your words cut off with a groan as he pressed against the little bundle of nerves harder.

"Yeah?" He licked his lips and fought back a smirk as he kissed you softly, pulled his fingers out and circled them over your clit. Firmer, faster. "Going to cum for me already, aren't you sweetheart?"

"Yeah." You chased after his kiss like you needed it to breathe, your weight sinking into his hand begging for more.

Eyes locked on yours, foreheads together he gave you a little nod, "Yeah, go ahead," He sped up the circling of his fingers until both of you were breathing heavy, "Go ahead, sweetheart, go ahead."

When your eyes fluttered and rolled back Jack didn't stop, only pressed you harder into the door and kissed you in the most unholy way as you came apart for him.

Slowly as you can back down he eased off the pressure of his fingers, slipped them back inside of you and relished in the little convulsions he felt as he gave you long, slow, steady strokes. He teased at your lips, kissing and nipping until you giggled and he finally released your hands from above your head. "Good girl." He whispered as he gave you a final kiss and pulled back.

The look in your eyes told him this probably couldn't be casual for you either.

You laughed when he ducked, lifted you up by the thighs and carried you towards your bedroom.

"Don't laugh, I'm not that old." He chuckled with you into the hollow of your throat. A chuckle that turned into a groan when you carded your fingers into his already messy curls and tugged.

He had laid you down on the bed and stripped you naked as fast as possible. Desperate to get his hands, his mouth on every inch of you until you whined his name and fisted your hand in the back of his scrub top.

Jack smiled against your hip, "What?"

"Off."

"What?" He asked again as he sucked a little bruise into the smooth skin before him.

You groaned, half annoyed and half giddy, and shoved at him until he looked you in the eyes, "Take your fucking shirt off."

He chuckled, gave you a grin and rose up to his knees so he could reach behind him and pull his scrub top and undershirt off in one go. Jack couldn't help but take that half a second, to watch you hum happily and chew on your lip, to let it stroke his ego, before he buried his face between your legs.

~~~~~~

He had put it off as long as he could, shoved the thought aside and focused all of his attention on you. But, eventually, you had pulled and clawed at him until he crawled over you to cover your body with his and kiss you properly again. Jack let you take some of his weight as he kissed you, soaked in the warmth and the feel of you under him.

He knew he'd have to take his pants off, that the prosthesis would be some sort of jarring reminder and this would all be over.

He focused on your hands and how fucking good if felt as you stroked up the muscles of his back, hooked your fingers over his shoulders and pulled him closer. The way your fingertips skimmed over his arms, squeezing his biceps and smiling under his kisses like you enjoyed the way he felt. It had almost been involuntary. The jerk of his hips when you had skated your nails low over his sides, too low, too close to the waistband of his boxers where the band peeked up over the top of his pants. The way he had rolled his hips against yours and gave you a hint of just how badly he wanted you.

You made that happy little humming sound again and stroked your hands up over his back and down again. FIngertips leaving little divots under them as they moved. "Jack," Your voice was soft, airy and tight, "Am I gonna have to tell you to take your pants off too?" You fought for his eye contact and for the first time he couldn't give it to you.

Jack buried his face in your neck and kissed over your pulse, whispered his answer there instead, "Sweetheart," He breathed deep and Jesus you smelled like sex and sweat and soap and everything good in this world. "Only way this really works, is if I take the leg off." He waited. Expected the worst.

When you tugged on his hair he caved, lifted his head and looked you in the eye. You held his gaze and opened your eyes wide like you were about to make a point and wanted it to land, "Then take the fucking leg off," You cracked a smile, "Or I'm going to do it, and I have no clue how it works so..."

Jack fucking loved you. He knew he loved you, because he had said the first thing that came to mind, "Want me to show you?" With a chuckle and a nod you kissed him and with no hesitation answered, "Yeah, kinda."

So, as awkward and unsexy as it was, he showed you.

He showed you how the mechanism worked, grinned at you and shook his head as you tried to pull it off the first time. He'd turned an embarrassing shade of pink when he'd warned you, "It's not going to smell good. You know that right?"

You had scoffed, rolled your eyes at him. "I'm a doctor. I'm sure I can handle it."

Jack couldn't remember the last time he had laughed this hard. Especially not in bed, with a sexy, young woman, where ten minutes ago the only thing on his mind had been fucking your brains out. Now, you were collapsed on his chest and cackling uncontrollably with his prosthetic leg in one hand dangling off the side of the bed. All he could do was cradle the back of your head and try to catch his breath, because even as you were laughing, you were peppering kisses over his chest and he swore that if this didn't scare you away he would never let you go.

When you caught your breath and sat up, you set his prosthesis down by the nightstand and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. "Now, take your pants off."

His eyes followed you as you crawled off the bed and walked naked to the bathroom. He tried to fight down the nerves as he did shuck his other shoe, sock and his scrub pants off, then pushed himself up to lean against your headboard. He listened to a cupboard open and close, water run. When you reentered the room and tossed a bath towel on the bed and crawled back to him with a warm, soapy rag in your hand he furrowed his brow.

"I fucking dare you to make one sponge bath joke. I swear to God." You didn't hesitate as you knelt in front of him and began to run the rag over what remained of his lower leg. Your fingers massaging the aching muscles as you went.

All Jack could do was shake his head side to side as he let his eyes fall closed and his body sink deeper into your pillows.

~~~~~

Jack hadn't meant to zone out, but Christ it had felt too good. Your soft, capable hands working over the tension in his leg after a long shift. The relief it brought, physical and mental, was unbelievable. He barely noticed you had stopped until you had moved to straddle his lap and kiss up the side of his neck.

"Fall asleep on me?"

He chuckled, "Almost." and wrapped his arms around your waist to drag you closer.

"Feel good?" You copied his question from earlier, whispered it against throat.

"Too fucking good." His cock had softened some from the relaxation, but when he pulled you down to settle against him fully he could feel himself harden by the second. "You're too fucking good for me." He caressed from your knees, over your thighs, up your waist and ribcage, until his fingers traced over the line of your arms where they had wrapped around his neck.

"Don't say that." You kissed him, deep, and rolled your hips over him. Whined a little that his boxer briefs still kept you seperated from what you both wanted. The whine turned into a squeal as he flipped you over without warning, Put you on your back like you had started.

Jack hovered over you braced on strong arms. "You still want this?" He rocked his hips into yours and searched your eyes. He could see that you knew what he meant. Not just this, not just the moment, not just sex. Him. HIs past, his baggage, all the complications that a relationship with your attending would bring.

"Yes. All of it." You looked him in the eye and smiled. Cute and sweet. Drastically at odds with the way your hands were shoving his underwear down over his hips.

Then he watched those pretty eyes roll back in your head, because he wasn't going to waste another second not knowing what it felt like to be inside you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack had panicked the first time he'd said he loved you.

He'd thought it from the start, but it had always felt to soon, too real, too say it out loud. To risk it.

Then he had woken up late one afternoon, after a restless few hours of sleep and you weren't in bed beside him. His mind, already primed for the worst case scenario after a long week, worried that you'd finally had enough. That he'd scared you away and you'd snuck off while he was asleep but, then he'd found you in the kitchen.

He paused at the corner and breathed deep as he watched you. Your back turned to him, in some t-shirt of his you'd dug out of a drawer to sleep in, hair tosseled from sleep. You were glaring at the coffee maker, arms crossed and swaying side to side, as if you could force the machine into expedience. He could feel the anxiety seep out of him as he watched you. Made his way to you.

"Where are your crutches?" Was how you greeted him, your voice rough and exhausted like him.

Jack just slid his arms around you waist and kissed the back of your head. Relished the feel of you sinking more of your weight back into him. "Bedroom." He shifted to place a kiss closer to your neck.

"Ja-ack"

"Wha-at?" He copied your tone and squeezed you tighter. He liked that you worried. With one hand he swept your hair to the side so he could kiss your neck and chuckled against it when you groaned. Annoyed, not aroused. "Been gettin' around just fine for over a decade baby."

You had grumbled, rolled your eyes, but leaned into him and smoothed your hands over his forearms, your thumbs traced the furrows in the muscle. "I know."

The coffee maker beeped, but you made no move to reach for a cup. Jack liked that you worried. He liked that you took up space in his home, in his life. He liked that you'd taken over half his bathroom, that his sheets smelled like you, that your car had a spot in his garage. He liked that you'd started teasing him about trying to get out of your lease as much time as you spent at his house. Hell, he'd pay off your fucking lease if it meant he could have you here, with him, all the time.

He wrapped his arms around you impossibly tighter and squeezed, smiled at the content little hum you let you and the way your head dropped back against his shoulder. His lips pressed against your temple, barely a kiss, "I love you."

There was no shocked expression on your face, no teary eyes, or fumbling words. Just that little smile, that ticked up in one corner, the one that he'd loved from the start. "I've been patiently waiting, but you were starting to make me nervous." You stood up and turned around in his arms. Smile wider as you wrapped your arms around his neck and your eyes flickered when he tightened his grip on your waist again. Locked you against him, arms flexing the way you always liked. Your lips brushed his briefly and then you pulled back to look him in the eye, "I love you too."

Saying it, finally, felt amazing. Like a weight off of his chest.

Hearing you say it, knowing that you meant it... felt like CPR, something bringing a piece of him back to life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you had mismatched shifts all week because you had covered some days for Cassie while she had court. So, if you saw eachother it was only in passing, at home or at the hospital. This would be your last shift on days before a weekend off and you would be back on nights, with Jack. Where you belonged.

Jack caught a glimpse of you as he walked in, but continued towards the hub where Robby was already packing up his bag like he was in a hurry.

"Hey brother, sorry but I got a thing, I got to run." Robby picked up his bag and met Jack at the corner of the station. "Your girl is goin' to do the handoff." He gave his friend a smug look as he held his fist out.

Jack scoffed, gave Robby the first bump, but gave him a shove with it. "Don't do that, and don't act like I don't know what your 'thing' is." Jack stared him down, "Let me know how it goes."

Robby nodded, "Yeah, I will. Have a good night man."

Lena and Dana looked up at Jack in unison as he dropped his bag into the chair and together they said, "She's in fifteen."

Jack scowled at the two of them, "Why are you all like this?"

Lena just chuckled and ducked out to get to work. Dana grabbed her jacket and wrapped her hand around Jacks arm, "Just a heads up, someone, I won't name names, has been hounding her all day. Playin' twenty questions about Dr. Abbot, so… she might be a little salty."

With a deep breath he shook his head and draped his stethoscope around his neck.

Dana chuckled, "She doesn't know… so, it's harmless. Just watch your step with your girl. she's had a long one." She grabbed her bag and paused as she moved to step around him, "For what it's worth, the sooner you start wearing a wedding around here again the better for all of us I think." She gave him a wink.

Jack leaned down just enough they were eye to eye. "Dana… go home."

She gave him a smile and a wink, smiled a little wider when his scowl cracked, "Fifteen."

Which is exactly where he found you, right outside the room typing on one of the portable stations.

Work had always been work and honestly he loved you even more for that, because there was something sexy about the fact that you had the self control to keep home and work seperate. Most of the time. You were still his best resident, by far, and now his senior resident. It was fun for him to see you thrive with that responsibility. It was also fun for him to occasionally toe that line, get that little rise out of you that he'd pay for later.

Today, he felt like pushing that boundary. So, he took a quick glance around before he stepped up close, bumped your shoulder with his and tipped his head to whisper.

"Think carefully about what you're about to say, Dr. Abbot."

He bit back a smirk, definitly feisty tonight. "Ready to come back to nights?" He leaned a little closer than necessary and dropped his voice, "Where you belong."

You continued to type, never even looked at him, "What's it worth to you?"

"How about you finish up here, go get some rest, and I'll show you when I get home?"

That got you a little, he could tell by the way you bit the inside of your cheek and a little color appeared on your neck.

Jack bumped your shoulder with his again as he turned to leave, "Come on," His voice back to normal, "GIve me the rundown so we can get you out of here."

~~~~~

When he got home he heard his police scanner going and smirked to himself. You had given him shit about it at first, but now you used it like a white noise machine.

He moved quietly through the house until he found you asleep on the couch in the living room in your comfy clothes. Jack knew that meant you had tried to stay up as late as possible, get your sleep schedule back on track. He leaned his right knee on the couch next to you and braced his hands on either side of you, one against the back of the couch the other on the cushion. Carefully he leaned in and kissed your cheek, "Hey sweetheart." Something in him loved that you didn't flinch, didn't jump awake, only grumbled slightly and then smirked as you awoke.

"Hey." Your voice was raspy with sleep and Jack couldn't help but move to kiss the side of your neck. You hummed and shifted to your back as you cracked your eyes open, "How was your night?"

Lips never leaving your neck he gave a simple answer, "Fine." His kisses moved, higher up towards the hinge of your jaw, "Ready to have my best girl back."

You chuckled, stretched under him and let your head roll to one side to give him more access, "Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm." his kisses became more and more involved, mouthing and sucking at your neck until he left a mark.

Wide awake under his attentions your eyes focused, "Ugh, no fair."

Jack chuckled as he pushed himself up, hovering over you at arms length. "What's not fair?"

Shifting to get comfortable you pouted, unconciously letting your legs fall open for him, as you tugged at the front of his tight, dark t-shirt. "I missed a sexy Dr Abbot night."

He couldn't help the wide smile as he shook his head, still not fully comprehending what it was about wearing cargo pants and a Tshirt instead of scrubs that did it for you. Jack was, however, man enough to admit that you liking it did something for him. "Sexy Dr Abbot night huh?" He shifted his weight, hIs left hand settling on the strip of skin that appeared just above your waistband as your shirt rode up.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, tugged on the shirt again, "Mhmm."

Jack caved, still smiling as he moved to lay down over the top of you, his smile widening as your hands moved under the t-shirt and stroked over his back, "Did you miss your sexy Dr. Abbot?" He teased as he kissed you, slipped his knee between your legs and pressed it against your core as he settled into you.

A little groan escaped between chuckles as your fingers dug into the muscles of his back, on either side of his spine. "Stop it."

"You're the one that said it." Jack chuckled with you as he shifted his weight slightly, drug his right hand the length of your body. From your throat, over a breast where he paused for a moment, palming it through your shirt in time with the way his tongue slid against yours. Then your hips began to move, of their own accord, grinding against his thigh ellictiing a moan, your lips separating from his as you threw your head back.

"Mhmm," Jack murmerd into your exposed throat, "Sure seems like you missed me." He smiled against your pulse as your hands scrambled with the bottom of his shirt. He let you drag it up over his head and then before you could pull him back into a kiss he peeled your bottoms off. Taking his time to toss them aside and then slowly caress his way from the arch of your foot, over the back of your knee and higher. "God you are gorgeous." His grip on you changed, hardened as he moved back over you. "Tell me you missed me baby." He mumbled into your mouth, groaning as he felt your hands move to unbotton his pants.

"You know I did." You smiled, nipped his top lip and watched him as your fingers wrapped around his cock.

"Oh, fuck..." His forehead dropped to yours, eyes closed and breath coming out in warm pants. "Fuck." He repeated as you stroked him, hand firm and confident, from base to tip and back. The muscles in his arms bulged and flexed as he held himself over you, fists clenching and unchlenching against the couch cushion as his cock hardened to your touch. "Baby..."

"What did you say earlier? Something you were going to show me?" You giggled, closed the short distance to brush your lips over his.

Jack smiled, ducked his head to kiss you properly and moved your hand aside so he could shove his pants and boxers down. Just far enough for him to enter you without preamble. Guiding his now achingly hard cock where it belonged. "God you feel too good sweetheart." He breathed the words into your mouth as he bottomed out, lowered the rest of his weight into you. "Too good."

Your whole body trembled underneath him as you moved to wrap your arms around his neck and keep him as close as possible. You dug your fingers into his hair, into the muscles of his shoulders and back, your legs wrapped around his hips as they moved against yours. "Jack..."

"Yeah baby?" Jack asked as he dropped a hand to your thigh, thick fingers digging into your flesh as he held you closer, fucked you just a little harder. "What's wrong?"

You let out a half chuckle half groan, your nails digging into the back of his shoulder blade, "Absolutely nothing." Your chuckle turned into something like a breathy giggle as he rewarded you with a particularly deep thrust. "Just, shit," you writhed under him as he moved the hand at your thigh between your bodies. His thumb working slow, teasing circles over your clit in time with his thrusts. "Just, you don't wanna take your prostthetic off?"

He smirked against your clavicle as he mouthed his way across to the opposite side of your neck. "Don't need to be comfortable right now baby," He picked up his pace, his thrusts and his thumb over your clit, moved harder, faster, "I need to feel you cum for me." Jack wasn't taking it slow after that, and the sounds you were making for him only motivated him to fuck you harder, faster, like he hadn't had you in a month not just a week. "So be a good girl and cum for me," The hand not playing with you slid under the back of your neck, grabbing it from behind, cradling you and applying pressure in a way that had your eyes rolling back and your back arching up off the couch. Lips against your ear, his own breathing ragged, "Need to feel it baby."

"So close, i'm so close, please, shit, Jack, I'm so close." You scrambled, tried everything in your power to drag him into you.

Jack just grinned, "I know, I know." He dropped a kiss against the shell of your ear, "Trust me," His voice was strained but his tone still steady, still soft and clinging to control. "You know I'm gonna take care of you baby, you know." When you nodded enthustically his grin widened, "Take a deep breath." When you didn't respond, he slowed his thrusts down, short and shallow, and when you whined, jack repeated himself, "Breathe. Relax and breathe."

As soon as you shuddered underneath him and took a long, deep breath, eyes slipping closed as you tried to do as he said, Jack whispered, "Good girl." HIs thumb stroked up the line of your carotid once and then settled over it, applied the perfect amount of pressure that made your head swim.

"Oh fuck...." Your mouth hung open and you moaned out his name.

Slowly Jack picked up his pace again, "Another deep breath baby."

You sucked in the air through your nose and moaned because you knew what came next. Because there was a timer running in Jacks head from the moment his thumb pressed down, and once that timer started there was no more teasing or playing, only fucking you as hard and as fast as he could. The whole time murmering every dirty thought that had ever crossed his mind. How you were his good girl, his best girl, all the depraved things he wanted to do to you, how you took his cock so well, and felt so fucking good. How you moaned his name so pretty, how he wanted to fucking ruin you, fill you up and never let you go.

When that timer in his head hit zero, he'd lift his thumb, let the blood rush back to your head and drive his cock into you as hard and as fast as he could, rubbing your clit furiously until you would shatter.

Your nails would dig into his back and you'd gasp for air, and for more. Then he'd snap, his ears would ring with your highpitched whines and his back would ache and he would empty himself inside of you. His hips never stopping until his vision cleared and he could feel the scratch of your fingertips through his hair, the hammering of your heart against his own.

"Jesus Christ," You whispered it, a sexy, satisfied giggle behind it, "I still don't understand how..." You paused for a deep breath and your pussy shuddered around him, "It happens so fast when you do that." You smile as he mouths at the side of your neck.

"Which is why," He tips your face to his so he can kiss you properly before he manhandles you around, swapping places with you so he's on his back and your draped over top of him, "I only do it when I know i'm not going to fucking last." He laughs at himself, drags you down into a vulgar kiss as he reached down to shift your hips and settle you properly. His softening dick still inside you and mess between you.

Jack laid there for a moment and closed his eyes, listened to you breathing slow to match his, a wave of comfort washed over him as he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. You settled into his grasp and hummed, a happy little sound in the back of your throat as you curled around him. Both of you half naked and spent on his living room couch. He smiled, kissed the top of your head, nowhere else he'd rather be in in that moment than right there.

~~~~~~~

His fingertips stroked slowly over your back, under your shirt, when you break the post-coital silence. "Can we talk about something?"

Swallowing down the fear rapidly rising in his throat Jack nods and kisses the top of your head, "What's up?"

"My residency is almost over."

He nods, lays the hand flat and wide over the small of your back like his subconcious is trying to keep you where he felt you belonged. "Thought about what you're going to do?"

"That's sort of what I want to talk to you about." You sit up and the both of you make a face at the way your bodies shifted together. You watch as Jack settles a hand on your thigh and you reach for the other. You take his hand in both of yours and started to massage away the stiffness you knew would be there after a long shift. "There's no guarantee I get the open attending spot here, and if I don't… I just… I guess I just want to know what you think I should do."

Jack took a deep breath and studied your face intently, held your gaze. "I'm hesitant to tell you what I think because, I don't think I can be impartial, not really. I want you to make the best decision for yourself and not let me… being selfish… affect your decision."

That made you take a moment, consider as you watched him. Your thumbs still moved in soothing circles over the knuckles and palm of his hand. "I'm not asking you to be impartial. I'm asking you, someone whose opinion matters to me deeply, to discuss a very important decision I might have to make."

It hits him in the gut to hear you say that, because he knows what he wants. He knows he could tell you. He doesn't know with certainty what you want though. "Okay, well, as your attending. You are an incredibly talented and valuable emergency physician and there's plenty of hospitals that would fight to have you. I think we would be idiots to not fight to keep you here, because you are good, you're steady and fast and you're a leader, but also because we have poured a shit ton of time and resources into developing you. It would be irresponsible to let you go, but you could go anywhere you wanted and be extremely successful."

You had to fight back tears at his praise and he must have seen it because Jack stroked his hand over your thigh with a little extra pressure and a tight grin.

"As the man that loves you…because God I fucking love you and I love working with you, but either way that's going to change soon, I want you here with me. Even if that means something other than the Pitt. And… I acknowledge, as much as it sucks, that might not be what's best for you, or even be what you want."

You're chewing on your lip hard, trying to keep your own emotions in check. You love Jack, but he is also your mentor and you value his opinion and he is honestly the only one you could imagine having this conversation with. "I don't want to go anywhere else, I want to stay where I am… I'm just terrified I … What if I put in for the open spot at PTMC and don't get it?"

Jack gives you the most encouraging smile he can without giving himself away and moves to sit up. Taking you with him as he twists around to sit on the couch properly and wrap his arms around you. "Sweetheart that's fine, if you don't work for us you'll go somewhere else. There's six trauma centers in Pittsburgh, there's 52 in the state. Hell there's over 200 level ones in the country and baby you could run any of them. I know you could." He fidgets for a moment and seems to look everywhere but you before he can get locked in. He looks you in the eye, "If you want my opinion you could go anywhere, but I want you here. I just don't want to be the reason you settle for less."

Your breath caught in your throat, "Jack…"

He can't help the thought that he's going to have to talk to his therapist about the look on your face, the weight in his chest as he sits with you on his lap, dick still just a little hard inside you, the mess you made together sticky between you and every fiber of his being is fighting the urge to beg you to stay because he needs you.

"On what planet is being here with you considered less? Don't say that." You kiss him hard, then pull back, "If I apply for the slot… they're going to look sideways at both of us."

"Let 'em. Baby, that's goin' to come down on me not you."

You scoff, "We both know it doesn't work that way. If they want to raise hell about me being in a relationship with my attending that shit could follow me."

Jack hates that that's true, even if it happens in every fucking teaching hospital in the country. "To be fair, I'm tenured and I make enough for both of us. Worse comes to worse. Fuck 'em."

"Not helpful." You smack him on the chest, but chuckle despite the tension.

He shrugs, "There's ways to go about it, so maybe we haven't made it obvious, but not like we've been keeping it a state secret either, and it's not some abuse of power, hasn't affected either of our performance. I'm still going to be with you when you're an attending, or hell, when you're the chief for that matter. If i'm still around that long. Honestly… if you want to be shady about it between me and Shen, Robby is the chief, I'm willing to bet we can rig it in your favor."

"Also not helpful!" You kiss him though, "I do find it oddly attractive that you're so willing to bend the rules though."

"I know you do." He kissed you back. "Promise to play by the rules for a change."

You smile, "So, what If I told you I wanted to stay here after my residency? What if I want the attending spot at the Pitt and to stay with you?"

Jack shook his head, squeezed you tighter, "Don't ask me baby, tell me. Is that what you want?"

"I want you. If I can have you and the Pitt, perfect. If not, I'd work anywhere if it means we are together." You kiss him again, trying to get your point across, "That doesn't feel like settling to me Jack. Not even close."

How he felt in that moment was something he couldn't name, because no matter how ecstatic it makes him to hear you say you want him a piece of him is drowning in the guilt that you could be giving up something so much better.

You run your hands over his bare chest, his shoulders and then slide them up the side of his neck to hold him in place. "Is that… Is that okay?"

Like so many times before Jack shoves that doubt aside and figures, fuck it. He thinks about that first fleeting kiss on the roof, the one in his truck, all the rides home, the coffee and conversations, the morning you had asked him to come upstairs. All the times you were the one that took that leap of faith, because he couldn't. He'd been trying not to jump for years.

He kissed you, long and slow as he thinks and then whispers against your lips. "Sweetheart," He kisses you again, "Do me a favor and go grab my bag?"

You look confused, rightfully so, but smirk and duck your head to nip at the meat of one of his pecs. "You know, I'm not supposed to be able to walk after you fuck me like that."

Jack groans and feels fucking ancient, but can't help the need to swat you on the ass and give you a little push, "Love to watch you try though."

Because, yeah, you are still a little unsteady and you both trembled as you had raised up and his semi hard dick had slipped out of you. He watched you walk out of the living room and tucked himself back into his boxers before he did up the fly of his pants. The conversation you were about to have was one he couldn't have with his dick inside you, no matter how good it felt.

When you came back his eyes drank you in, shirt askew and hair a mess, a sheen between your legs that made the blood in his veins rush south again.

"Here you go." You hold out the camo backpack as you round the end of the couch.

"Need you to grab something for me, out of the liner pocket on the inside." He smirked at the way you arch your brow at him, but still come back to sit on his lap. He holds his breath as you set the bag on the couch next to you and pulled at the zipper. Jack had to try not to stare at the patch velcroed to the front. Abbot. He lets his hands settle on your thighs while he waits, thumb stroking over your femoral artery.

"What exactly am I…"

"You'll know." He cuts you off.

You stop.

He feels your heart rate skyrocket under his thumb, every muscle in your body goes rigid and he watches as your eyes blink rapidly like you're trying to clear your vision. "That's what I want sweetheart."

Your eyes are the only part of you that moves. They jump from what you found in the pocket, to his face and back. "How long have you had this?" Because what you're holding, it's not something bought on a whim.

Jack can't help but laugh at himself, "Awhile." Is all he'll tell you right now. He fights for your eye contact, but for one of the only times he can remember, it's like you can't quite hold it. Your eyes keep flicking to him and away again.

"Why?"

"Just in case."

You look at him then, really look at him, and don't look away. Give him that eye contact he craves and he sucks in air like he can breath again, head above water for just a moment. You smirk at hearing him repeat your own words back to you from so long ago. Your voice shakes, "Just in case what?"

He smirks right back at you as he moves the backpack out of the way with one hand and then holds it out, palm up. You carefully put what you had found in his hand, unopened, because the simple presence of the small, shiny, sleek, perfectly square, black box had told you everything you needed to know. Jack makes sure to brush your fingers with his as he takes the box from you and pops it open. "Just in case you ever decided to go back to dayshift, thought I might have to bribe you."

You choke out a laugh and Jack smiles, but his throat is dry and the way you look like you're about to cry really isn't helping.

He repeats himself as he pulls out the ring, rolls it carefully between his thumb and forefiner, "This is what I want sweetheart. Then he chokes out a laugh of his own, "I don't give a shit where you work baby, wherever you want. Only thing I give a fuck about is that they call you Dr. Abbot." He cracks a smile when you laugh with him and he can feel you relax, your weight sinking into him as you lean in to kiss him. Clumsy and sloppy and with a smile.

"You're fucking ego sometimes."

"You can hyphenate if you want."

"Oh, I can, can I? So generous."

Every word between you is murmured between kisses. He diesn't have to hear you say it, he knows the answer.

He doesn't have to tell you he's had the ring your entire fourth year of residency. Just waiting for you to say you wanted to stay.

You're really shaking when he slips the ring on your finger and of course it fits perfectly and of course it's exactly what you would have picked, because it's Jack. Becasuse this has never been casual for either of you, not for one single moment.

You pull back from kissing him with a laugh and an evil grin, "You suppose I'd be more or less likely to get the attending position with your last name?"

Jack laughs with you and drags your hips closer, because as soon as this conversation is finished he's taking you to bed and doing terrible, filthy things to you the rest of the weekend. "Look me in the eye and tell me this is really what you want baby."

He can feel the metal of the ring on your finger as your hand presses against his jaw, "This is what I want Jack. This is exactly what I want."

Your noses bump together as he kisses you and nods, "Have something else I need to tell you then." He kissed you again, before you can panic. "You don't need to apply for the attending position."

You put some distance between you and for the first time in a long time Jack has to gently stop you, guide you away from putting too much pressure on his right knee at this angle. You murmur a little, "Sorry." as you scoot closer. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Arms locked tight around you Jack keeps a straight face, tells you something he's wanted to tell you since you started this conversation. "It's not going to come down to whether you get the job or not. Robby already tagged you for it."

You blink, "What?"

Jack rubbed his hands over your thighs, putting in the pressure and the warmth to keep you grounded, "It's going to come down to whether you want the job or not, because they're going to offer it to you once you complete your residency."

"You're fucking with me right now."

He chuckles, "I am not fucking with you right now. It's like I told you; we'd be stupid to let you go anywhere else."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" He's almost laughing outright now, "They asked us for our recommendations, every single one of us said you. Obviously I'm not supposed to tell you, but…"

"So you were just letting me stress out about all of this!? About the fact that I might lose you, because I wasn't going to get the job, that I was going to have to leave and, and move to the opposite side of the country or something!"

"I was trying to stay out if it. In case being here isn't what you wanted." He left the 'if I wasn't what you wanted' out of it.

"Jack!, I mean Jesus, c'mon! We've been together for almost two fucking years. How would you even begin to think this isn't what I wanted!?" You're yelling at him, but you're laughing and crying and have a death grip on the back of his neck.

Jack takes a deep breath and deescalates. "My therapist says I plan for the worst case scenario as a coping mechanism, as a way to try and protect myself from the pain of unforseen loss."

Taking his lead you take a deep breath, lower your tone. "Yeah, he also says it's one thing to be prepared for emergencies and another to try and plan for the worst possible outcome to a conversation, that you haven't even initated, therefore running the risk of 'planning' that worst case outcome into existence." You scowl at him.

Sometimes he hates that you're so in tune, so invested and involved in his mental health, because it's annoying to hear his therapist come out of your mouth. He smirks though, because he also loves it a little and can't imagine anyone else holding him accountable the way you do.

"Since you brought your therapist into it, have you told him you've been carrying around my engagement ring in your backpack next to a three day supply of MREs?"

He doesn't answer you because you know he hasn't, you're just making a point. Jack smirks and smooths his hands up your back, "Sure you wanna marry me?" His chest hurts at the way you light up as he watches your eyes flick back to the ring he slipped on your finger.

"Very sure." You looked him in the eye like you were daring him to doubt you and gave him that little smirk. The one that had started this all, where it tipped up to one side like you were trying not to show him something.

Jack waited for you to lean in and kiss him, waited for your fingers to comb into his curls and your tongue to chase after his, and then he grabbed you tight and pushed to his feet. Chuckling at the way you still squeaked and giggled, no matter how many times he's carried you to bed that way. Or to the couch, the shower, the nearest wall or flat surface.

Later, when you're both exhausted and the blackout curtains are keeping the afternoon sun at bay, you're laying beside him with your head on his shoulder, one leg draped over his and your left hand on his chest. Neither of you can stop staring at the faint glint that is the ring in the dim light of the room.

"Are you sure?"

Jack chuckles, presses a kiss to the top of your head and murmers, "How many times you going to ask me that?"

You bite your lip and turn your face into his neck, "Just making sure."

He closes his eyes when he feels you trace his collar bone with your lips and he moves to cradle the back of her head, holding you close. Jack thinks again about those first two kisses, about the way you had explained yourself. 'Just in case.' He tips your head back so he can kiss you, deep and with emotion he still can't quite process out loud. "I'm sure sweetheart." He kissed you again.

There was something extremely appropriate about the phrase, 'just in case.' he thought and for the rest of his life, every time he kissed you, touched you, told you he loved you, in the back of his mind he'd think. 'Just in case.' Because he knew better than anyone, there was no way to know what time would be the last.

"Hey," Your voice was soft, half asleep when your hand rested against his jaw to pull him out of his thoughts, "I love you." You said it like you knew where his thoughts had gone.

Jack kissed you, holding you close like he'd never let you go. "Love you too."

~~~ The End~~~

Happily Never After Pt. 1

Summary: A marriage proposal from Prince Loki is every princess's dream come true, except for yours.

Pairing: Asgard Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY. Loss of Virginity.

W/C: 3.4K

A/N: This will be two parts!

See My Masterlist Here

"Married to Prince Loki?!" You shriek. It was the most absurd thing you had ever heard. "Stop being dramatic, dear. You two are very close. Since Prince Thor is already promised, this is the best match we could secure. Your father and I thought you would be happy considering he is your friend, and not a stranger."

"We used to be close! That was ages ago! I loathe him, mother. This is unfair. I would rather marry a stranger." You protest, wiping your sweaty palms on your long gown as you pace the room. "Why do you hate him? We just visited them last week." She tries to reason with you.

"You said yourself he was your best friend. Do you not recall the tears you shed when your father forbid you from spending time with him unchaperoned?" She pours herself more tea, waiting for your reply. "Yes, well he was my best friend. He's a different person now. I barely know him." You look out of your window, the palace in clear view of your own estate.

Your father was king of a neighboring realm, when the ogres attacked, forcing your family to seek safety in Asgard. You were welcomed with open arms. Frigga and your mother became fast friends. Odin relied on your father's knowledge of the other realms' customs, so he became valuable to him. Frigga invited your mother for tea every day. She insisted your mother bring you along since she had two boys close to your age you could play with.

Thor was older, more focused on playing rough with the other boys. He never paid attention to you. Loki was only a year older than you. You often found him reading under a tree instead of playing. He didn't notice you at first until you insisted the older boys let you play. Volstagg accidentally knocked you to the ground.

When Loki heard you crying, he stood up for you even though Volstagg towered over all of you. He was an unusually large child. Loki brought you to his favorite hiding place. Deep in the woods behind the palace there was a treehouse. He explained that he often came there for solace. It was built for Odin thousands of years ago when he was a child.

Thor didn't like to play there because it was too far from the palace. He thought he would get in trouble. One evening, Loki lost track of time and fell asleep in the treehouse. When he was finally found, Frigga had the place cleaned up, so it wouldn't be dangerous. Ever since that day, you and Loki were inseparable. You used the treehouse as a secret lair for you two to spend time alone.

The other children didn't play with you. They only played with Loki because they were scared of Odin. You understood each other completely. You would make up stories and put on one person plays to share your creativity. You grew up together. It went from playing as children, to hiding out in the tree house after mandatory appearances at balls. You despised when your father wanted you to meet other royals. He would force you to dance with their sons. After two dances, you and Loki would slip away to your private place.

You would laugh about the cheesy things they said to impress you. You would never forget the first time your heart skipped a beat. You were laughing about the visiting prince who told you your gown was lovely. It was the most hideous shade of lime green the seamstress could find. You had requested it that way, so you could hide your beauty. You wiped tears of laughter from the corners of your eyes as you told Loki your reasoning for the unpleasing color.

"You should have known you couldn't hide beauty like yours even in that atrocious gown." His sentiment made you blush, your heart stopped beating as he held your gaze. His eyes lingered on your lips for a few seconds too long. You were sure he was going to kiss you. You closed your eyes in anticipation, feeling his face draw closer to yours. Then you were interrupted by Thor bellowing down below. Your father was looking for you.

You wouldn't be allowed out of his sight if he caught you out there. When you got home, you wrote everything down in your diary. How Loki had made you feel beautiful for the first time in your life, how you wished Thor and your father would have waited moments longer. The next day your father called you into his study, your diary in hand. Oh, how you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

"I forbid you to see him ever again." Your father's stern words instantly made you cry. Loki was everything to you. You couldn't lose him. You told him it was just a silly crush. That what you had written was just a fantasy you made up. He finally believed your lies, but now you couldn't be with him unless you were chaperoned.

Hundreds of years went by, you were as close as ever. You still found your way around the chaperones. You would sneak out at night meeting at the treehouse. You would stay up half the night together laughing as you did when you were children. He would have you back in your bed before sunrise. You always thought it was unfair that you had to be chaperoned, but Loki could do as he pleased.

Then came your first heartbreak. A visiting prince had met you at one of Frigga's balls. He immediately asked your father to court you. You were devastated. You didn't want to be courted. You were happy with your life. But your father couldn't wait to marry you off. But the more time you spent with the prince, the more you liked him. He had dark hair and blue eyes, sometimes you pretended he was Loki.

But he wasn't and there was your whole problem. No one would compare to Loki. But if you had to marry someone, at least the prince was nice. The prince would often find you with Loki going on strolls through the gardens, eating, and reading in silence. One evening, he visited your estate. He said he wanted to end this courtship. You couldn't think of anything you did wrong. He explained that he was certain your affection lied elsewhere, and he wanted to be the only man in his future bride's life. You didn't understand what he had meant, but you thanked him. You were free once again.

Then the latest scandal sheet was delivered by your maid. It mentioned how you and the prince were getting close. You rolled your eyes, thankful that was over. But when you reached the last paragraph, your whole world shattered. Prince Loki had been seen at the brothel three times this week. Not only that, but he had been caught with an unnamed maid in his mother's garden.

It wasn't uncommon for royalty to fuck around like whores, but this truly wounded you. You cried for a week after it came out. Your mother thought you were upset over the prince ending your courtship, so she explained there would be other princes. You didn't visit Loki for three months after the scandal sheet came out.

Another one hundred years passed, and you had grown used to Loki's womanizing. You were at the market, Loki carrying your basket filled with trinkets, winking at the unsuspecting maidens. He made note of the ones he wanted to bed later. You rolled your eyes, as you handed your coins to the shopkeeper, peeling the orange you just purchased.

"Really Loki, can you go one minute without finding four new lovers?" You joked. "Jealous?" He smirked. "Of course not, don't be ridiculous." "The only reason you are not overcome with jealousy is because you do not know what I am capable of carnally." The bite of orange you had just taken lodged down your throat causing you to choke. Loki smiled, pleased with himself.

"Of course, I wouldn't know that, or care to find out. You shouldn't speak of such things so loudly. What if someone heard you?" You looked around, your maid, Greta had her eyes on the ground pretending she wasn't listening. Loki walked over to her, dropping a few coins into her hand, and whispering to her. You watch as she goes to the next vender looking at the silks.

Loki grabs your arm, leading you behind a tent. "Aren't you curious? Your parents keep you in the dark, only for the bumbling fool you end up marrying to spill his seed in a matter of minutes." You would be like the other princesses, not knowing what to expect on your wedding night, if it wasn't for Loki. He had told you all about the act some hundred years ago, so you would know what to expect. You were thankful for that, at least.

But now, when he was looking at you like that, and speaking of such things, you wished you didn't know. "You won't experience pleasure with them. They just want to produce an heir, and once that's taken care of, he will get a mistress. I don't want that for you. I hope that you find a love match, but that is highly unlikely considering your father allows anyone with a title to court you."

You consider Loki's words as he leans in, his breath tickling your ear. "Let me show you what you are missing. I'll make it good for you. You deserve to experience mind blowing sex at least once in your life." He was the devil himself; you were sure of it. He was so tempting. You knew he was experienced, and women threw themselves all over him everywhere you went. He had to be good at it.

"I - I'm not sure. I would be ruined if anyone found out. My father would kill you.” You whisper, just in case someone was listening. "That's not a problem, I would just marry you before your reputation took a hit." He smiles as if what he said wasn't crazy. "Loki, I couldn't ask you to do that. To be honest, I am frightened. Not of you, but of the act itself. It doesn't sound like it would be pleasurable. Oh, but it must be if every eligible maiden in the kingdom lets you have your way with them."

You continue your ranting until Loki grabs your hand. "I would be gentle with you. We could start slowly. We would only do what you are comfortable with." You agreed to meet him at the treehouse that night. When you're back in your chambers you call Greta in to question her.

"Greta, have you had sex before?" She gasps, looking everywhere but at you. "My lady, that is not appropriate." You sit on your bed, gesturing for her to sit beside you. "Oh, spare me, we have known each other since we were girls. So out with it." You fold your arms across your chest waiting for her to answer.

"Yes, there was one man." She answers, her cheeks turning red. "Greta! Who was it?" She smiles, "Bart, the baker's son. We had a lovely couple of months together, but then he married the butcher's daughter. You see, men are fickle creatures. They use you until they find someone else. So be warned, my lady, keep your heart out of it. Men can have sex without emotions, and us women, well we often times end up heartbroken."

Greta's words repeated in your head all afternoon. You had known Loki for centuries, so you didn't think he would hurt you. But you were tempted to turn around, go back to your chambers and pretend like none of this ever happened. Luckily, he was in the treehouse waiting for you, so you couldn't leave now.

"It has been brought to my attention that men will do this with anyone, so I know it will mean nothing to you. And apparently, it will mean everything to me. I just don't want to regret this." You confide in Loki. "My darling girl, this will mean everything to me too. You are far too precious to me for it to mean nothing. We don't have to do anything if that is what you wish."

"I think you are right. I deserve to feel pleasure, and I trust you. I'm just nervous." Loki cups your face in his hands, bringing himself closer to you. It was so similar to that night when you were teenagers, your stomach erupts in butterflies. You never imagined the cute, gangly boy you knew so long ago would grow into the devilishly handsome man before you.

He kisses you, and it is exactly how you had always imagined. It was as if no time had passed between the moment when he almost kissed you centuries ago and now. You felt exactly the same. When he finally breaks the kiss, you look at him with wide eyes. If just his kiss could make you feel like this, you were in trouble.

Loki sat you down on the old mat you used to read on as children. It had fresh linen on it. Loki must have put it on before your arrival. He pressed kisses to your neck, sharp teeth nipping at your exposed skin. He had you sit up so he could undo your dress, nimble fingers working quickly on your corset until all your clothing was sat aside. You were bare for the first time in front of a man, but you were not ashamed. You should have attempted to cover yourself, but when Loki looked at you like you were a priceless painting, you felt no need to.

Loki took his time kissing every part of you. He toyed with your nipples, and you felt yourself growing wet. When he lowered his head to take one between his lips, you finally understood why all those maidens would jump at his beck and call. He kissed his way down your stomach, nipping your upper thigh. He spread your legs apart, pleased with your arousal dripping down your thighs.

"May I?" He asks, pink tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip. You aren't sure what he is asking, but he knows what he is doing, so you give your consent. His tongue envelops you, sliding from your slit to your most sensitive part. "Loki!" You shout, as he continues exploring you. His tongue flicks your clit as your hands weave through his messy locks.

You never imagined it would be like this. And you suppose if it wasn't for Loki, you would never know. He slips a long finger inside you as he continues licking you, He stretches you, placing another finger inside. You jolt at the intrusion, his fingers curling to caress your walls. You feel like you are about to explode.

"Loki, I feel so wonderful." You tell him. His lips suction around your clit, tugging while his fingers work their magic. Stars explode behind your eyes as your first orgasm rips through you. Loki waits until you finish writhing on his face before coming up for air. He wipes your arousal off his face with the back of his hand.

You think that has to be the most attractive thing you have ever seen. But you are proven wrong when Loki undresses. He has filled out since the last time you saw him shirtless, when you were swimming as teenagers. He drops his trousers, hard cock springing free. You gasp when you see the size of him. You were beyond thankful he told you about the differences between men and women so long ago. What a surprise this would be if he hadn't.

"You still have time to change your mind, love. Just say the word and I will stop." He stalks toward you, lowering himself to the mat. "Please do not stop." You say breathlessly. Loki chuckles, settling between your thighs. "This will hurt, but only for a moment. Tell me when you are ready for me to move."

Loki sinks into you, pressure and pain causing you to cry out. "I'm so sorry. I can't help it. It will feel better soon, I promise." You grit your teeth as Loki bottoms out. He stills inside you, waiting for you to give him permission to move. You take a minute, adjusting to his size, before you tell him you are alright.

Loki slowly removes himself before filling you completely again. After a few thrusts, it starts to feel good. "Faster, Loki, please." You beg, clawing at his back as he ravishes you. His hand comes down between your joined bodies, skilled fingers swirling against your clit. The feeling you had earlier comes back full force, another orgasm sending you soaring. Loki pulls out, finishing on the fresh linen on the mat. You lay there, breathing heavily, looking at Loki. He truly is beautiful. "Shall we go again?" He asks, his signature smirk returning.

Loki laid with you three more times before the sun rose. He walked you back to your estate, making sure you made it inside safely before walking back to the palace. The next day, you were excited to see Loki. You secretly hoped you would spend the day in the treehouse.

"Mary was looking for you." Fandral tells Loki, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Well, you can tell her I never wish to see her again. She is of no use to me anymore." They laugh in unison, walking away as you round the corner. "Has someone finally caught your eye?" Fandral smiles. "Actually, I plan on asking the princess to marry me." Loki shocks Fandral who places a hand over his heart.

"Did you hear that, Greta?" You ask your maid, unwanted tears filling your eyes. "Yes, my lady." She answers. "Repeat what you heard please."

"Prince Loki said "You can tell her I never wish to see her again. She is of no use to me anymore." She looks at you with pity. "That's what I heard too. Oh, Greta." You collapse into her arms, sobbing. "Let's go home, my lady. We mustn't let the prince see that he has hurt you."

From that moment on, things were very different between you and Loki. He demanded to know why you avoided him now and why you never had a kind word for him. You never answered because he knew what he had done. He just didn't know you heard him talking about you. That was five months ago. Now, Odin was ordering him to marry and they had chosen you of all people.

If this happened before you would be ecstatic. Now, it makes you sick thinking about being alone with him. You had no choice. Your father had been trying to marry you off for centuries, and you always got out of your courtships somehow. You suspected Loki had a hand in it. But now that he wanted to marry you, there was no getting out of it.

You were expected at the palace by noon tomorrow. You paced the floor so many times, your footprints were probably embedded into the floor. Then you had the perfect idea. You would run away.

The next day everyone awaited your arrival. Your mother and father sat with Frigga and Odin having tea while they waited. Thor patted Loki on the back. "Finally, brother. Everyone saw this coming. I am very happy for you." Loki brought his cup to his lips, when a timid knock on the door interrupted them. He jumps up, rushing to let you inside. Instead of you, he is greeted by Greta. "Forgive the intrusion, your highness. It's the princess she ran away." Greta hands Loki the letter you left.

She sniffles, worried about you. While he reads the note, your father and Odin start planning on sending knights to find you. Frigga comforts your mother. "What does it say?" Thor asks, peeking over Loki's shoulder.

Greta, I cannot marry that pompous ass. I would rather live amongst the pigs. Do not bother looking for me, because you will never find me. Tell mother and father I love them dearly. Thank you Greta, for everything. I wish I could have taken you with me. All my love.

"No need to create a search team, father. I will find her myself." Loki states, leaving the room.

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Three-Point Diagnosis

(aka: Samira, her girlfriend, and the Human Brick Wall of Emotional Repression)

Dr Samira Mohan and her girlfriend, Yn Ln, both decide they're in love with Dr Jack Abbott and do their best to make him see it

masterlist

It started with coffee.

Samira Mohan was not subtle. She never had been. But when she started showing up during Jack’s shifts with three coffees instead of one—oat milk, and too much sugar for her, a hot chocolatefor her girlfriend, and something suspiciously tailored to Jack’s preferences—people noticed.

Especially Jack.

“What is this?” he asked the first time, frowning at the cup like it might bite him.

“It's gratitude,” Samira replied sweetly, leaning a hip against the nurse's station. Her girlfriend—Yn—smiled beside her, dark eyes glittering with amusement. “And also caffeine. Don’t be ungrateful.”

Jack grumbled something incoherent but took the cup. The next time, he didn’t even pretend to argue.

Then it was lunch. Then late-night consults. Then Yn started showing up with Samira during Jack’s rounds, lingering like she belonged in his orbit—which, somehow, she did.

And Jack… tolerated it. No, worse—he started looking for them. Started noticing the way Samira would stand just close enough to feel warm when he was stressed, how Yn's sarcasm cut like a scalpel but never toward him. How they made space for him, without demanding anything in return.

Until they did.

It was a rare lull in the trauma bay—quiet except for the beeping monitors and the low murmur of a chart update. Jack was scribbling a note when Samira leaned over his shoulder, voice low.

“You know we’re in love with you, right?”

His pen froze mid-word.

He turned slowly, like maybe the floor had shifted under his feet. “Excuse me?”

Yn stepped beside Samira, arms crossed, grin smug. “She means both of us. We’ve talked. You’re broody and emotionally constipated and so hot when you're threatening to page Neuro at 3AM.”

“I—what—”

“You don’t have to say anything yet,” Samira added, her tone softer. “We just thought it was time to let you know. You’re not alone. Not unless you want to be.”

Jack stared between them, clearly short-circuiting. “You’re… in a relationship. Together.”

“Yes,” Yn said. “Very happily.”

“And you… both want me?”

“Yes, Jack,” Samira said, laughing gently. “We’re emotionally stable enough to handle your mess.”

He blinked. Then again. His ears were definitely red.

“I need to… do something. Somewhere. Alone.”

Samira handed him another coffee. “Go process. We’ll be here when you’re ready.”

And they would be.