Light After Darkness

Ted Lasso Masterlist

Jamie Tartt

Meet Cousin McAdoo

Caffeine Crash

Tour de Richmond

Go For It

Cuddle Me Like You Mean It

Sentiments

Officially Mine

Baby Tartt Do Do Do Do Do Do

Are You Ashamed?

Meddlesome

Pity Date

Always On the Sidelines

Here On Out

The Music In Me

I Live for You

Stay Right Here

Autographs

Roy Kent

It's A Family Affair

Bad Influence

Mr. & Mrs. Kent

Gentle Heart

Unexpectedly Yours Masterlist (Regency AU)

Little Mic Interviews

Rescue me, I want your tender charm!

pairing: dbf!dr. jack abbott x fem!reader

word count: 6.5k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, fem!reader, phone sex, masturbation, no use of y/n, dirty talk, age-gap, reader is in her early to mid 20s and jack is…how old he is…, two for one: dad’s best friend & best friend’s dad, no jake, probable medical inaccuracies, reader getting drugged, secret relationship, drug & alcohol consumption, no langdon addiction arc, heavy angst, & use of medical jargon.

author’s note: writing for this show wasn’t on my bingo card, but here we are! i need this man with my whole being and i’m so serious. i would also like to clarify that you did not grow up knowing abbott or his daughter. you met them in the last year or so, while finishing up your bachelor's degree and starting on your master's. also, before reading, please heed all the warnings above, as this fic is meant to be read with care. read at your own discretion.

Jack always takes such good care of his girl...

"Jack," you narrow your eyes, a smile breaking your serious facade. "I'm serious."

"So am I," he defends, hand over his heart, a cheeky smile spreading across his lips before twirling a finger in the air. "Turn around."

You roll your eyes playfully, twirling where you stand as your dress twirls with you. The fabric rides only slightly up on the back of your thighs, which has him groaning in the bed where he lays naked, only the comforter giving him a shred of decency. 

"You're gonna give all the college boys whiplash, sweetheart," he chimes with a gruff laugh.

"Too bad for them because I have a boyfriend," you wink, picking up your dress so it pools around your waist as you crawl over to him on the bed to straddle his lap.

His hands move to grip your thighs, massaging them lightly. "Mhm," he hums softly, leaning forward and kissing your lips softly.

"You smell like sex," you randomly murmur against his lips.

"Well, funny enough, I did just have sex, so that checks out," he jests, hands moving up and down your thighs with ease.

"Oh. Did you now? I had no idea," you press your lips back to his, hand moving to rest on his cheek. You nip his lip lightly as your hands skim down his chest and torso to hover over the blanket that covers his naked lap. 

"Insatiable, you are," he mutters against your lips; his words come out breathless. 

You let out a dry laugh as his hands grip your waist tightly, and his head dips into the crook of your neck. "You know, your dad would throw a shit fit if he knew where you were right now," his warm breath flutters across your skin. 

You let out a hushed moan as his teeth come out to nip the sensitive flesh. "Well then...we best keep it a secret then. Huh?" You simply say, hand skimming his bare chest.

"You know whatever consumes your mind will eventually bleed into the real world?" He asks, hands skimming up your hips. Then he tilts his head away from your neck to look into your eyes. 

You quip your brow in confusion.

"Law of attraction," he shrugs simply.

You roll your eyes, groaning as you push him away. "God. You sound like my philosophy professor," you huff, shoulders hunching in defeat.

He lets out a rough laugh. "Is that a good thing?"

"An irritating thing," you inform, your voice tinged with exasperation. "He's such a dick."

"Want me to fight him?" He jokes, his fingers playfully tugging at the hem of your dress, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

You contemplate for a moment. "Ask me that after mid-terms."

He smiles, head leaning back to rest on the headboard. "You know, I've always wondered, why philosophy? Could have done EM? You're smart enough for it." His curiosity is genuine, and it warms you.

"Hell no to EM. I'd rather take a bullet to the head," you laugh before realizing he quite literally works in EM. "No offense."

"Some taken, yeah," he nods with a light smile to show he's joking.

You give him a smile before your brain starts turning. "Philosophy…it's...I don't know…grounding," you utter, avoiding his gaze. "Do I sound like an idiot?" You question with a small laugh, eyes finally moving to his. 

"No. Of course you don't," he assures, shaking his head. "I get it. I took a philosophy course in med school," he recalls with a hint of nostalgia in his smile. "My attending at the time all but forced me in the class. Said it would help me understand death," he supplies. 

"Did you like it?" You ask, tilting your head to the side as you fidget with his fingers resting on the bed.

He nods. "Yeah, I did," he replies, his gaze meeting yours. "It helped me understand morality, which is a miracle in itself.” His eyes then drop to the mattress, lost in thought.

"You know, speaking of that," you say as you shuffle off his lap, to his dismay, searching for your laptop. "I have to write a dissertation on a case study about the ethical implications of fabrications." You swipe your laptop from your bag and sit back on the edge of the bed on his side. 

"You can help me with it," you decided, fingers gliding across the keyboard.

He lets out a dry laugh. "Why am I going to help you with your homework?

You turn to look at him. "Because you're smart."

"Sorry, sweetheart," he begins, resting his head on the headboard. "I already did my time."

You roll your eyes playfully, returning to the laptop and tapping the keys to go to the case study. "Yeah. Like forty years ago," you snicker under your breath.

"Oh. Now I'm definitely not helping you," he says, with mock hurt.

You turn to him again, your expression softening. "Sorry…" you chew on your lip, setting your laptop aside to move back towards him. "I'm a dick," you murmur, legs once again straddling his lap.

"Happens to the best of us," he presses a kiss to your lips. 

"I find it hard to believe you can be a dick. You're always so sweet," your hand rests on the back of his neck, fingers dragging up and down softly.

"To you," he closes his eyes softly as your fingers delicately move against his skin. "Just to you."

The ER isn't as bustling and noisy as it usually is when you stroll in the following day.

It's almost...quiet.

Too quiet.

"Hotshot strollin' in, and it's not even eight am?" Langdon chimes from behind the triage desk. "Someone's in trouble," he jokes, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You give him a smile. "You know me too well, Frank."

He nods his head towards you, a playful glint in his eye. "What did the old man do this time?" He prompts with humor in his tone. "Missed a brunch? Sold your favorite childhood toy?"

You shake your head, moving to lean on the desk. "Oh, much worse," you say as Langdon quips a curious brow. "He's dipping out of our annual family vacation."

"Yikes…" He cringes before tilting his head in thought. "But that sounds like you have an empty seat," he comments, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Where are we going? The tropics? I've been meaning to work on my surfing techniques," he adds, bringing his hands up to pretend to surf, a playful smirk on his face.

You let out a chuckle. "Funny, but not a chance, loser," you breathe out, crossing your arms over your chest. "If I were to take anyone else, it would be your wife," you affirm, a teasing glint in your eye. 

"Right. Sorry," he reaches for a clipboard off the desk next to him, scanning it quickly. "I forgot you love Abby more than me," he gives you a short smile.

"Did you really forget though?" You tilt your head, voice pitiful. "I thought I made it painfully obvious," you say as he gives you a fake laugh, skimming around the corner of the desk to go to a patient's room. 

"Dana," you greet, swiveling your attention to her sitting at the desk, only half paying attention.

"With a patient, south side, room 15," she immediately says, scribbling on some paper.

"Oh. You know I love you," you tap on the desk, blowing her a playful kiss before turning on your heels, a warm smile on your face.

"Give him hell, kid," she mutters, eyes still focused on the paperwork.

You find the room and see your dad and some medical residents huddled up with a patient.

That does nothing to deter your stride.

You cross across the hall, opening the door open.

"What's this about you missing the family vacation?" You chime, eyes on your dad.

Dr. Robby turns to you, his shoulders sagging at your presence as if he already knew what would happen. "Oh, what a joy," he mutters, wiping his face. "Honey, I'm kind of with a patient right now," he expresses, voice low.

"Good, he can hear how ridiculous you're being," you retort, your lips pursed in frustration. "Mom told me you aren't coming on the trip anymore," you accuse again.

"Um…Dr. Robby, do you want us to call security?" Javadi asks timidly. 

"Security?" You repeat with a laugh.

"No, Javadi," he begins with a sigh. "Unfortunately for us, that's my kin," he exhales before fixing his stethoscope. "Whitaker, get 40 milligrams of prednisone. Javadi, get the pulmonologist down here to do a breathing treatment," he orders, snapping his plastic gloves off and tossing them in the trash as he walks over to you, gesturing for you to step outside. "I'll be just outside if you need me," he assures, with a hint of humor. "Call the cops if you don't hear from me in fifteen," he jokes, following you out, trying to lighten the tense situation.

"You're in trouble," you point your finger at him when you enter the hall. "You promised you would go," you exasperate, hands on your hip.

He sighs, his hand wiping over his face. "I know. I'm sorry, but we don't have anyone to cover for me. I told your mother that," he says, his voice tinged with regret.

"Dad," you tilt your head forward, frustration coating your words. "We've had this trip planned for months," you enunciate, your disappointment clear.

"I'm sorry, honey. I just can't swing it right now. Hospital is short-staffed," he says, sincerity in his tone before his eyes light up in thought. "How about you get Abbott's daughter to go with you and your mother?" He nods. "You two are really good friends," he says before his face contorts into confusion. "Surprised she isn't here with you," he huffs deeply.

"She had a thing," you bring your hand up and shoo it to the side. 

"A thing? What's a thing?" He says with confusion in his tone, watching your hand flail in the air.

"Just something she had to do," you confirm, not sparing much detail.

"Ah. A secret thing," he says, lifting his hand to pull an invisible zipper across his lips before twisting a fake key on the corner and throwing it to his side. "Got it."

Before you can get a word out, your dad looks behind you and issues a smile towards them before quickly moving to greet them.

"Jack," he addresses, bringing him in for a hug.

"Hey, man," Jack says to your dad, hugging him back, his eyes then wandering to you. "Hey, kid," he smiles towards you, a knowing glint in his eyes. 

"Hi, Dr. Abbott," you squeak, feeling a surge of nerves. 

"Thought you only worked tonight?" Your dad questioned, tilting his head in confusion.

"Eh. Got called in since one of the other doctors got the flu," he shrugs, though his eyes aren't even fixed on your dad.

"Dr. Bigley? Heard his wife's back in town after being gone for two weeks. You think she mysteriously caught the flu, too?" Your dad jests, a knowing tone in his voice, unaware of the brewing tension beside him. "But, hey, since you're already here, could you take Whitaker on your rotations? Kid could use more patient practice," he tips his head towards the room he's in.

"Sure...yeah," Jack says, finally tearing his eyes away from you to look at your dad. "I can do that."

"Thanks," your dad moves to grab his pager, blaring loudly. "Jack, could you walk her out?" He says, referring to you as he starts over to you. "Make sure she leaves," he raises his brows at you. "Bye, hon. Love you," he presses a kiss to your forehead before spinning on his heels to head in the opposite direction. 

"Bye, Dad. Love you too," you yell back, eyes glancing at Jack. 

The air crackles with tension as he extends his hand, silently urging you to lead the way. You pick up the cue, your steps quickening as you head towards the front doors, your hands nervously clutching your purse strap.

"You look like you want to be anywhere else than with me," Jack murmurs lowly so no one around can hear, taking note of your sour expression.

You can't help but let out a dry laugh. "Considering I was on my knees for you yesterday morning, I'd say that isn't the case," you say with a casual smirk, adjusting your purse strap.

He stops in his tracks, a cheeky smile growing on his lips. "You little minx—"

"What do you recommend for bruised knees, Dr. Abbott?" You ask with interest and muster a serious expression, eyes locked onto his.

His eyes widen slightly, searching for a crack in your serious facade. "I...well—"

You snicker, making him release a sigh of relief. "I'm just teasing you, Jack. I'll call you later," you murmur, your eyes boring into his. 

"Looking forward to it, sweetheart," he says with a warm smile, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings for you.

He wants to reach out and kiss you.

Pull you tight against his body and thread his fingers through your hair, but he can't.

Not here, not now.

His fingers flex as if to touch your fingers that come close to his as you leave.

Yours flex out, too, he notices.

He smiles at the exchange.

It was better than any kiss he could ever get.

About midday, you're parked at your desk, your computer wide open, and your screen is black, responding to your inactivity.

You can't focus on anything you start working on.

Every time you start reading a case study, your brain wonders to Jack.

You always loved seeing him at the hospital when you visited your dad.

Dressed up in his scrubs, hair slightly disheveled, combing his fingers through it when he's irritated, and the teasing tone in his voice when he gets frisky, you can almost smell the antiseptic and hear the distant beeping of machines.

You catch yourself slipping far away from the case study again. 

Fuck it.

You're feeling needy.

You grab your phone, sliding your finger to hover over the call icon on his contact.

It takes two rings, and you hear the familiar sound of heart monitors and shuffling in the background. 

"Hey. What are you up to?" Your voice echoes through the line, and your finger fidgets with your pen. 

"Just had to consult a teen with a co-infection," he informs you, voice low. "Syphilis and herpes."

"Woah. Save some of the fun for the rest of us," you jest, a hint of longing in your voice as you put the pen between your lips. 

"Hilarious. What are you doing?" His voice is slightly muffled; you assume he placed the phone between his shoulder and cheek.

"Attempting to study. Have an ethics midterm tomorrow," you sigh.

"Oh. Look at you. Smart girl," he praises as you hear his pen scribbling on some paper.

"Eh. Should have started yesterday, but this guy I know kept me busy all day." You sit up in your chair, chewing on your lip.

"Hey. Don't blame me for your scholastic missteps," he laughs as you continue to hear his pen on the paper. 

"Why are you assuming you're the guy I'm talking about?" You contest, attempting to stir him up.

"Call me an optimist," he shakes it off, still continuing to write.

"What if you had competition? Would that scare you?" You find yourself asking with eagerness. 

"I'm an ER doctor who's ex-vet with nice hair," he begins, not paying close attention. "Who's competing with me?" His words don't hold smugness, just exude confidence.

"Someone's cocky," you tease, leaning your elbow on your desk, palm holding your cheek, enjoying the playful banter.

"Confidence isn't cockiness, sweetheart," he simply says as you hear a chair creak over the line. 

"So they say," you say, feeling a sudden hotness.

"So, why did you call?" He asks curiously, eyes still focused on a patient file.

"Am I not allowed to call my boyfriend?" Your voice is full of faux hurt. 

He smiles. "Of course, you can call me anytime sweetheart," his voice is sweet. "You just usually have a reason. Are you stressed?"

You let out a deep sigh. "A little, but I feel bad ranting to a guy who literally has to save lives for a living."

"Come on," he urges, his patience evident. "Hit me."

"It's just…midterms are coming up, and this fucking dissertation," you struggle to articulate, "I know this is going to sound dramatic, but I feel like I'm being swallowed whole, you know?" Your voice quivers with stress.

He sets his pen down. "It's hard," he agrees. "But doable."

"Wow. That's some great insight, Jack. You should consider writing a self-help book," your apparent sarcasm makes him smile. 

"Nah. Writing passages for the uninspired, unwilling to make the application is not really my thing," he quips, tilting back in his chair.

"Everyone's a cynic," you say with a humorous undertone that has him smiling in his chair.

The silence hangs over the phone for a moment.

"Are you on break right now?" You finally break the silence, tone full of anticipation.

"Just took twenty to breath," he suspires, hand coming to massage the bridge on his nose.

You chew on your bottom lip. "Are you in your office?"

"I am, yeah," he sits up in his chair. "Why?"

"Just curious," you lick your lips. "I miss you."

"Saw you this morning, sweetheart," he voices with a smile.

"I know, I know," you affirm. "I'm just feeling…needy." 

He can hear you shuffling around. "What are you doing?"

"What do you want me to be doing, Jack?" You coax, lying on your bed. 

You don't hear anything over the line, and you go to speak before you hear the click of a door closing and the same creaking of the chair.

"Pants off," he commands, voice husky.

You oblige eagerly, stomach fluttering as you slip your pants off and toss them on the floor. "What now?" You ask, already feeling breathless.

"Let's put those pretty little fingers to good use, yeah?" His voice is so low and raspy. "Slide them over your stomach. Don't go any lower," he directs, shifting in his chair.

You slide your fingers down your stomach, tenderly and easily, panting into the phone as you do so.

"That's it, pretty girl," he praises. "Keep going for me."

You let out a shallow moan at the praise, fingers moving up and down your stomach with purpose.

"Take your panties off, baby," he almost releases a groan at the sounds that come off your tongue as you slip your panties off, tossing them off you with the swing of your foot.

"They're off," you breathe, fingers coming back to brush on your stomach.

"Good girl," he begins. "Move your fingers across your pussy. Nice and easy strokes," his voice is so gruff, you could just come to the sound of him talking.

Your fingers move down to place easy strokes on your aching cunt, arousal already accumulating. "Feels good," you whimper, brain hanging onto his praise.

"Good. Just follow my voice," he says. "I'll make you feel good, okay?" He prompts before leaning closer into the phone. "Rub your fingers against your clit," he tells you.

"Jack…." You mewl into the phone as your finger plunges into your cunt, rubbing gently against where you ache.

"Oh. That's it," he gruffs. "Touch yourself, baby…just how you like, yeah?"

"Okay," you breathe out as your fingers actions speed.

"Doing so good," he compliments, hearing the wet sounds of your fingers plunging in and out of you. "Talk to me…let me hear you."

"Feels so good, Jack," you moan out, fingers working faster. “So good.”

"Yeah?" He says, egging you on.

"Mhm," you reply, pleasure building in your lower stomach.

"You gonna be a good girl and come by the hospital later?" He asks as he hears your panting increase.

"Yeah…can't wait to see you," your voice is strained as your fingers work, rubbing against your clit fast. 

"Oh, I bet, baby," he says. “I'll make you feel even better in person. Rub you off myself until you come on my fingers." His tone is downright scandalous.

You let out a louder moan, feeling an all-consuming, toe-curling orgasm crash into you.

Jack's eyes locked onto the door knob twisting open, issuing a hurried goodbye before hanging up and tossing his phone on his desk.

Dr. Robby enters, file in hand, staring curiously at Jack's phone on his desk. "Who was that?"

"No one," Jack says instantly, grabbing his phone to put it into his pant pocket.

"Okay. Guess we'll do the secrets thing," Dr. Robby raises his brows before handing the file to Jack. "Got a patient with a heart arrhythmia."

Jack abruptly shifts his focus back to work, his mind void of his personal matters. "Send them to cardio," he instructs, his tone professional and detached as he scans over the file.

"Yup. Already on it," Dr. Robby agrees.

Jack tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. "If you already did that, why did you need my consultation?"

"He's a vet. Said he knows you," Dr. Robby shrugs tilting his head to the side. "North side, room 25."

Jack simply nods as Dr. Robby heads out the door before sinking into his chair, deeply exhaling, the gears in his brain turning.

He was on the phone making you come just mere seconds ago, and he was a fragment of a second away from your dad being able to hear your sweet voice through the phone.

If that doesn't constitute a one-way ticket to the fiery pits, he's not sure what does.

The overwhelming sound of a thumping base and the smell of cheap beer and sweat hangs heavy, clouding your senses.

Your friend has convinced you to go to one of the frat parties.

Nothing like spending your Friday night in a small, confined room full of horny college boys and desperate sorority girls. 

The friend in question is a girl you've grown exceptionally close to within the last year.

Did everything together.

You were practically a part of her family, even her moms boyfriend took a liking to you and he was a hard ass.

But, you were particularly close to her dad.

Dr. Abbott.

Oh, you know, the guy you were secretly dating and screwing. 

Even made you come over the phone just some hours ago.

Guilt gnaws at your brain as your friend leads you into the house where the party is happening.

"God, it reeks of weed," you say, covering your nose as the pungent odor fills the air.  

"It's a college party. I'd be concerned if it didn't," your friend replies dryly, pulling you through a crowd of college kids toward the kitchen to grab some drinks.  

"Don't pour anything too strong," you warn, raising your eyebrows as your friend reaches for a bottle of vodka.  

"Just one shot? To celebrate you finishing your dissertation?" she asks, messily pouring the shots.  

"I haven't finished it yet—" you begin to protest, but she thrusts a shot in front of you, filled to the brim, causing some of the liquid to spill over the side.  

"Shot incoming!" She says with a bright smile, bringing the shot to her lips.

You begrudgingly down the shot with her, both cringing at the taste. 

"Tastes like shit," you remark, wiping some off your lip.

"Ugh," your friend winces at the potent flavor and, like clockwork, grabs two more cups to make another drink, this time less intense.  

You spot another friend on the couch in the living room, showing off a bag of white pills. You grab your friend's arm, leave your drinks on the counter, and walk over to him.  

"What are those?" You ask, crossing your arms and tilting your head toward the pills.  

"It's black star, straight from Germany," he replies, shaking the bag.  

You and your friend raise your eyebrows in confusion.

He tilts his head and shakes the bag again. "You know, superman? Because it takes you to space." He flaps his arms, pretending to float until his girlfriend elbows him. 

"Christ. Enough with the theatrics," she chimes in, standing beside him. "It's LSD. You guys want one?" She tips the bag, letting a couple drop into her palm.  

"Sure," your friend shrugs, reaching for the pills.  

You shoot her a disapproving look. "Absolutely not. You have no idea what those are made of. Do you want to end up in the ER, having to explain to your dad what you were thinking?" Your eyebrows raise as you speak.  

"You're no fun," your friend with the pills laughs, popping one onto his tongue.  

You give him a disapproving look before turning back to your friend. "I guess you're right," she says quietly. "He would kill me if the pills didn't."  

You nod in agreement. "Let's go get those drinks you made, yeah?" You grab her arm, leading her back to the kitchen.  

Your drink has shifted slightly to the side on the counter, but that doesn't deter you from throwing it back completely.

Your friend chugs her drink, licking her lips. "Should we do another?" She poses it as a question, but she isn't asking, already cracking open a fresh bottle of Everclear. 

You ponder for a moment, then hand your empty cup to her. "Fine," you exclaim, feeling a mix of exasperation and amusement. 

Your friend beams, pouring the spirit into your cups.

"Cheers to..." she trails off, pursing her lips as she hands you a drink. 

"...a good night," you finish, clinking your cup with hers. 

A smile spreads across her face, and once again, you both down the alcohol. The burn in your throat soothes your thoughts and lulls your brain into submission. 

Tonight was definitely going to be a good fucking night.

It's been twenty minutes since then. 

Your skin feels blistering yet icy.

Your head is pounding; you wouldn't be surprised if your brain imploded and cracked your skull.

A wave of nausea hits you, then retreats before you act.

What the fuck is going on?

Sure, you drank more than you should have, but this was not what usually happens. 

You glance at your friend perched in a corner near you, talking to a girl about something regarding her last lecture.

Nerd.

You presume she's fine.

Leaning against a wall, disoriented, you pull your phone out, opening up your text thread to the one and only.

Jack Abbott.

You haphazardly type out your sentence, and your vision starts to double, but that does nothing to deter you from texting him.

He answers immediately. 

Me: what r u up 2? working 2night?

Him: Why are you texting me in numbers?

Me: omg ur so oldd im crying kinda heartwarming though

Him: Heartwarming? How so? Him: Also, where are you?

Me: its just cute lol ur so cute Me: @ party that ur daughter dragged me 2 i feel woozy

Him: I'm cute? Honey, I'm old. Him: Have you been drinking? No drugs, right?

Me: yea ur cute sexy hot yup u check all the boxes dr hotness Me: no my friend tried 2 give uss lsd but i scolded ur daugher Me: i wouldnt ever take that shit or let her im drunk though

Him: Dr. Hotness? Hmm...that's a new one. Him: You need me to pick you two up? I can.

Me: noo were good i wouldnt wanna keep u from saving lives and all

Him: Let me come get you.

Me: jack im fine promise you better not show up or ill kill uu Me: i wouldnt actually but id be mad

Him: I can handle you being mad at me, sweetheart. Him: I just want both of you to be safe.

Me: were fine i promise! ur daughter is lit talking to a girl about her bio stats lecture shes such a nerd

Him: And you? What are you doing?

Me: texting u ofc

Him: Enjoy your party, but don't be stupid. Him: Take care of yourself and my daughter. Him: Call me if you need me.

Me: okay mr serious pants ill talk later byee

"Who ya texting?" Your friend scoots next to you, dilated eyes attempting to look at your phone screen.

"No one," you pull your phone to your chest in a panic, straightening your posture.

"Oh my God. Is it a guy? Do you have a secret boy toy I don't know about?" She nudges your side, face warmed from the alcohol.

"It's none of your beeswax," you huff, rolling your eyes playfully, attempting to sound nonchalant, though you can feel your head begin to spin again, but this time much faster.

"You know, I've never understood that saying," she says, her expression serious. 

You release a silent laugh as your words slurry, "Just, just go back to talking about your nerd things," you pat her shoulder gently, feeling your body shift, muscles relaxing to a disturbing degree.

"Whatever," she laughs, trudging herself back over to her friend. 

Him: Funny, but seriously, please be safe. Talk to you later.

That was the last thing you read. 

Your phone screen goes black as you feel the smack of your cheek hitting the cold wood and the sound of your friend rushing over to you, shaking your shoulders.

The urgency in her actions is palpable, a silent scream in the air.

Your friend calls your name over and over again, repeating it with more desperation each time, sobbing as she attempts to shake you awake.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she curses; your body is still, skin hot to the touch. "She, she won't wake up," her voice is shaky and frantic as she shakes you again, begging you to wake up. She snaps her head to whoever is close to her, her eyes filled with fear and desperation. 

"Call 911. Now."

"Female, early to mid 20s, unresponsive. Found at a party with signs of possible drug ingestion," a paramedic shouts, rushing you in on a stretcher into the ER as a nurse materializes at your side, the urgency palpable in the air.

Your friend follows close behind, mascara running down her cheeks as she frantically tries to see you.

"What the…oh shit," Langdon exclaims, his shock evident as he moves quickly behind the triage desk, his gaze shifting from you, looking lifeless, strapped onto a gurney, to Abbott's daughter hot on the paramedic's trail, sobs escaping her.

"Frank. Oh my God," she cries out, rushing over to him. "Please. You, you need to help her. They're, they're saying she was drugged," she stutters, hands moving messily through her hair.

"Hey, hey. Calm down, okay?" He puts his hands up, eyes searching her frantic eyes. "Tell me what happened," he says, now rushing over to you.

"I'm, I'm not sure," she heaves out as Langdon comes to your side, pulling your eyelids up to look at your pupils. "I turned around for a se, second then I heard her hit the ground."

"Dilated pupils. No sign of head trauma," he says, his voice urgent, his actions swift. "Let's move her to North side, Room 27," he turns, gesturing for Whitaker, whose eyes curiously stare at what is unfolding. "Whitaker, with me," he supplies, tipping him towards you. "Did she take anything?"

"No. Not that I know of," your friend sputters, her concern palpable, hot on Langdon's trail as he moves with you to the room. "She just drank."

"Drank what?" He asked promptly. "Let's get her on a monitor and start an IV with naloxone." He directed the nurse before looking at your shell-shocked friend. "What did she drink?"

Your eyes widen, and you search for the right words. "Um…vo, vodka and tequila…with Everclear," you manage to say, your voice trembling with shock.

"Yikes. Sounds like a bad night waiting to happen," he comments with a wince as he starts pushing the naloxone into the IV catheter. "Whitaker, go get Robby and Abbott. They're gonna wanna be here," he says, not looking up.

"Need her BP, pulse, and oxygen saturation. Let's get a tox screen, too," Langdon says urgently, not missing a beat.

"BP's 90/60, pulse is 110, oxygen saturation's 92% on room air," The nurse supplies. 

Langdon cringes. "Let's give her some oxygen and start another IV with 1 liter of normal saline wide open. Need to do a CT scan of her head so that we can rule out intracranial hemorrhage," he continues, assessing you as your friend anxiously waits by the door. "Where the hell are Robby and Abbott?"

"What's going on?" Dr. Robby moves in, following Whitaker, with Abbott close behind Robby. 

Dr. Abbott turns to see his daughter sobbing near the door as they all flood in.

"Came in unresponsive. Possible drug ingestion," Langdon eyes flick between Robby and Abbott. "Robby...it's your daughter."

Dr. Robby's eyes widen, twisting his head, issuing a curse as he moves into action. "Fuck—what the hell did she take?"He spits, looking around, and his eyes land on your friend.

"I don't, I don't know," her voice trembles with fear. "I, I just looked away for a second, and then I heard her hit the floor,"she turns to Dr. Abbott, chest heaving. "She, she looked...so lifeless, Dad," she cries out. "I, I thought—" she trails off as Jack brings her into his arms. 

"Shh," Jack holds his daughter as she sobs. "It'll, it'll be okay."

Jack wants to rush over to your side, heal you, then ambush you with a kiss.

But he can't.

Not now, anyway. 

"Where's the cardiac monitor? Get the God-damn monitor on her!" Dr. Robby's voice echoes with urgency, his mind racing frantically. "Were you watching each other? How did this happen?" He blurts out a million different, unimportant questions in the heat of the moment. 

All he can focus on is your lifeless body right in front of him.

"Robby...Robby," Langdon raises his voice. "Look at me," he pleads; Robby's eyes move to Langdon, with a deep exhale through his nose. "You need to calm down and treat your daughter," he says, his head nodding as he speaks. "Save her first; ask those questions later."

Dr. Robby sucks in a deep breath giving Langdon a nod before turning his attention back to you. "Whitaker, push in another dose of naloxone," he directs.

Whitaker nods, pushing in a second dose of the medicine. 

Everyone stands around you, anxiously waiting for you to wake.

Jack releases a shaky breath as he holds his daughter, mind already imagining the worst.

You spring awake, eyes wide and bright with a gasp, a sudden surge of relief washing over the room.

"Oh my God," your friend rushes to your side, grabbing your hand to ensure you're real. "You saved her," she turns to Whitaker.

"I just—" Whittaker starts before your friend pulls him right against her, pressing a messy kiss to his cheek, smearing lipstick on his skin.

"Thank you so much," she mumbles into him, her voice choked with emotion as she pulls away to hug you, her gratitude palpable.

Your voice, barely above a whisper, betrays your vulnerability as your friend steps aside for your dad's embrace.

"You're never leaving me again, kid," he half-jokes, his voice filled with relief and a hint of fear, hugging you tightly.

You can't help but laugh, your eyes meeting Jack's, who's staring at you with such intensity.

You open your mouth to call him over, but he leaves the room.

He dissipates, as does the protest on your tongue. 

"Let me get you some water," Dr. Robby kisses the top of your head, tilting his head toward Langdon to follow him out, leaving only you, your friend, and Whitaker in the room.

He's charting something when your friend moves next to him; her steps are careful, and her voice is a gentle murmur.

"I meant it, you know? Thanks for helping her," she smiles at him, eyes softening as she sees the lipstick mark still on his cheek. "You're a great doctor."

He gives her a smile, the tips of his ears going red from nerves. "I, well, yeah…than, thanks," he stutters, pretending to write something down.

"It's cute how nervous you get," she smiles, rocking on her heels.

His eyes widen. "Sorry, I, I have another patient," he says, avoiding her gaze and walking to the door.

She giggles as he walks out the door, bumping into the doorway as he exits. His face turns bright red as he turns to go in the complete wrong direction.

"I'm glad you're using my passing out as a means to meet cute guys," you say groggily, humor in your tone.

Your friend's eyes widen. "I would never—"

"I'm kidding. Whitaker is the only guy I don't think any dad would object to. He's super sweet. Would be a good match for you," you simply say. 

"He's nice, yeah," she agrees, her face warming with a playful blush. 

"He's really nice," you correct. "And he's a doctor," you release a breath. "Might as well marry him on the spot," you joke.

She lets out a laugh before coming over to you. "You're okay?"

You nod your head. "I'm okay."

Dr. Robby comes in, walks over to hand you the cup of water, and then turns to your friend. "Honey, the police want to ask you some questions," he begins. "I can come with you."

She nods, lightly squeezing your hand before moving in front of your dad to walk out the door.

You sit up and see Jack hovering outside. "Jack, can you wait with her?" Dr. Robby murmurs to him.

He nods, coming in and slowly closing the door behind him. 

"Jack..." You can already feel your throat clogging and want to die from embarrassment. 

How could this have happened to you? 

You've always been so careful. 

"I'm, I'm here, sweetheart," he says, pulling up a chair next to your bed before sitting in it to hold your hand.

"I, I don't remember anything," you start, tears clinging to your lashes. "Do you know what happened to me?"

He hesitates for a moment, squeezing your hand tighter. "Think you were drugged."

Your eyes widen. "Dru, drugged?" You stumble over your words, unable to comprehend what he said. "Like someone spiked my, my drink?" The shock of the revelation hits you like a wave, leaving you struggling to process the information. 

He gives you a weak nod. "Most likely."

You sink into the bed, tongue coming to lick your dry lips before the tears start pouring down your cheeks. "I, I can't believe it. I could have—" you start, eyesight blurring from your tears, chest beginning to heave. In this moment, you feel more vulnerable than you ever have before. 

Jack pulls you into his arms, your tears pooling on his scrubs. You're trembling with fear, and his embrace is the only thing calming you.

"I got you, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You're safe now."

You press your face into his chest, salty tears coating your lips, his embrace offering you immense comfort. 

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again."

author's mini note: he would so talk you through it...

filling an empty vase - roy kent x reader

pairing: roy kent x reader

word count: 3.4k (genuinely don't know how that happened)

warnings: language (duh) and some suggestive themes. the word shagging, which is too british not to include i'm afraid

a/n: this was an anonymous request that i'm not going to put here because it kinda ruins the whole plot! but it was such a fabulous request, so thank you anon, for giving me so much space to play. if you're not sure this is your request, you mentioned "Mr I Never Smile Kent" which funnily enough, made me smile!! enjoy sunflowers <3

---

You were such a professional in so many ways, but yet again you found your focus drifting during your meeting with the rest of the coaches. Your eyes find Roy’s face with such ease, lingering on the newly thicker beard he’s been sporting recently, then travelling down to broad shoulders, ones that fill out the door frame so nicely when he folds his arms. You’re so lucky he’s always folding his arms.

Before you can move onto admiring those arms, you see his head turn towards you and you look away before you can be caught. Instead of glancing at his face to see if he’s still looking at you, you decide it’s easier to join the conversation. As the goalkeeping coach, there isn’t always much you can contribute to these discussions, but they’re very insistent on including you.

“The only thing you need to be careful of is their counter-press,” you chime in, “Mind that the boys don’t get complacent in possession or my guy will be a sitting duck out there.”

“Good thinkin, Abe Lincoln. Why don’t we add that to our pre-game talk, coach, make sure someone’s watchin’ Zoreaux’s back at all times?”

“Already writing it down, coach,” Beard replied, gaining a double thumbs up from Ted who then continued talking. Even though you’d hardly been listening, you knew to do enough research beforehand so that you were free to let your mind wander and only speak up with a few key points.

You tune back in when you recognise the gruff tone of the very man you’re trying not to admire again.

“No. Y/N stole my fucking thing. I’ve gone over the rest in training,” he says dryly, and you duck your head to your lap to hide your smirk. Of course the two of you were on the same page about strategy, you always were. Usually he got to say it before you though, “Can we go now?”

“Unless anyone’s got anythin’ they want to add?” Ted looks around at everyone’s blank and frankly, very tired faces, “Not even somethin’ personal? Deep dark secret? Scandalous love affair, that kinda thing? Higgins, you look like there’s somethin’ right on the tip of that tongue.”

“I’m leaving,” Roy announced, walking into his office and shutting the door, even going so far as to shut the blinds on both windows before he presumably sat at his desk. You sighed and got up from your perch on the desk to take a step towards the dressing room.

“Afraid I’ve got some work to get done before I go home too,” you say, trying to be at least slightly nicer than Roy about it, “We can get personal tomorrow, alright Ted?”

He agrees with a happy grin on his face and you say goodbye to him, Beard and Trent collectively with a salute before turning on your heel and waving a goodbye to any of the team still around as you leave. You don’t go far. Unable to help yourself, you knock on Roy’s office door from the other side and shuffle your weight between your feet as you wait.

“Fuck off,” comes the greeting, so you open the door and slip inside.

“Even if it’s me?”

His head turns at the sound of your voice and suddenly his features look a special kind of soft, even in the harsh overhead lighting. He swivels his chair fully to face you, but makes no other move.

“Especially if it’s you,” he confirms, folding his arms again like he knew the effect he had on you, “You’re a fucking pervert.”

You gasp, clutching at the door handle behind you in a show of shock.

“I’m a what?”

“You heard me. Staring at me like you do in meetings wasn’t in your job description when we hired you, last I checked.”

“Last I checked, shagging your goalkeeping coach wasn’t in your job description, but you made pretty quick work of it.”

That was enough to get him moving. He’s quick out of his chair for a man with a bad knee, quick to crowd you against the wall just next to the door. Someone would have to really peer in to see the two of you, something he’d probably calculated even though your mind was already blank at the new proximity. 

“You’re right,” he says, voice sinfully low, hands either side of your hips but not touching you yet, “And I was staring at you the whole fucking meeting anyway, so I’m a pervert and a hypocrite.”

“Well, I don’t know if I can keep on with you if you’re both. One of them, maybe I can look past it, but both?”

Finally, one hand comes off the wall to stroke a line down your side with the backs of his knuckles. You try not to give him the satisfaction of shivering, but fail miserably.

“Think you can brave it?” he murmurs, that same hand brushing along your cheekbone, still all rough knuckles instead of his palm, “I’ll take you to Big Tesco later.”

Your whole face brightens despite the heavy tension that had settled like a mist in the room. You reach up to gently hold his wrist, stroking a thumb back and forth over the pulse that jumped there.

“Shit, you know the way to a girl’s heart, Kent,” you whisper, syrupy and cloying, “I take it all back. We can go as long as you like.”

The innuendo drew the growl from him that you’d been hoping for. The hand at your cheek was quick to turn until he was cupping your face and pulling you into him, kissing you deep and slow and longingly. Each kiss with him was better than the last. Yes, it had started hot and desperate after a month of unbearable electricity between you, a rushed encounter at a hotel after a particularly adrenaline-filled away game. 

Ever since, Roy had slowed things down. Not in the way you’d perhaps expected - he was still hot and heavy whenever the two of you got the chance, but he was taking his time with you. Teasing and learning. Nobody had ever treated you like this before, like you were something to be revered. Worshipped.

It was the same now, as he anchored himself with a hand on your back, pulling you further in, kissing you with genuine hunger.

“Roy? Can I come and get my stuff.”

Trent. It was always Trent. You liked the man so much, spent a lot of time with him, in fact, but if he interrupted you and Roy one more time, you had half a mind to hide his manuscript or something.

Roy did his special silent groan that he did whenever he couldn’t groan aloud, where he glared at the ceiling as he broke away from you and then clenched his fists in front of him. It was adorable, not that you would tell him that.

“All good,” you whisper, despite it definitely not being all good. It was entirely a joint decision not to tell the team about the two of you yet, but sometimes you wished you could announce it to the whole fucking world if it would get you some alone time.

You squeeze his hand and slip away to the adjoining door between his and Ted’s office. You hear Roy grunt for Ted to come in behind you, but you squeeze through into the other room before you hear any more of their inevitably one-sided conversation. Ted turns to you brightly as you enter.

“Decided you wanted to get personal sooner, Y/N?” he grins, and you can tell he isn’t really serious.

“Just forgot my keys,” you said sheepishly, retrieving them from the desk where you’d left them completely on purpose. It was always good to have a back-up plan and Roy wasn’t the only quick thinker between you, “See you tomorrow, Coach.”

“Can’t wait, coach!”

As you exit for real this time, glancing into Roy’s office as you pass, you take out your phone to shoot him a text. You’re saved under an unassuming name in his phone, so even if Trent sees it, he’ll be none the wiser.

We’re still on for tonight, right? The way I navigate a Big Tesco will blow your mind x

You press send with a smile to yourself, continuing on towards your office to pack up for the evening. Your phone buzzes before you even get there.

You blow my mind every fucking day. See you soon x

God, you could clutch your phone to your chest and squeal in the corridor, but instead, you speed up your walk to get home as quickly as possible. There was no harm in getting all dressed up to go to the supermarket when you were going with an insanely fit professional footballer, you reasoned.

---

Big Tesco. The place dreams are made of, or at least it was when you were younger and felt like you could get lost in the aisles and never return. Nowadays, it was likely nostalgia that kept you coming back, but it still felt like your first Big Tesco trip with Roy was a pretty big deal.

Mainly you needed snacks for movie night, but Roy was happy to indulge you and drive twenty minutes away for this if that’s what you wanted.

“If we’re doing Julia Roberts, we have to do Pretty Woman, obviously.”

“And Erin fucking Brockovich,” Roy agreed, “But if we do Sandra Bullock, we get the modern day masterpiece that is Miss Congeniality.”

“Oh, I still need to see that one!”

Roy stops, Pringles tube hovering above the trolley. He looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time and he doesn’t like what he sees.

“Right, we’re doing Bullock then, if I have to fucking culture you as well as buy your snacks.”

“We’re splitting the snacks-”

“The fuck we are,” he cut in, already contradicting himself, “I was fucking joking, please can we not get into another snack debate. You bought them last time.”

“Fine. And I’m happy with Sandy, too, so you win twice, buddy,” you grin at him, not expecting him to grin back but ecstatic when he does. You have half a mind to press him up against the Doritos and finish what you’d started earlier, but you have plenty of time for that in appropriate places later.

You had all night, in fact, post-Sandra Bullock marathon. The thought brings a particular movie to mind.

“As long as we throw Two Weeks Notice in there too.”

“Hugh Grant? No.”

“Oh come on, he’s a national treasure,” you argue, sliding your arm through his as the two of you continue your journey through the aisles.

“He’s a fucking idiot, is what he is,” Roy bites back, as he picks up the chocolate he knows you love, “I’ll allow The Proposal.”

“You know what, that’s a better choice anyway. We have a deal if we can make a stop in the homeware section after this?” you say hopefully, excited when he sighs and nods. You kiss his shoulder as you continue walking, “We’re so fucking good at this compromising shit!”

You lean away from him enough to hold your hand up for a high five. He indulges you reluctantly with a light slap from his own.

“We are. It’s cause I’m so fucking nice.”

“To me,” you add, staring up at him as he slows the trolley to a stop beside the biscuits. He takes your face in his hands after a moment.

“To you, yeah,” he agrees, voice all soft like it had been earlier. You’re not going to kiss him senseless in a supermarket, the two of you had some shame and a lot of love for privacy, but it was nice to indulge in something like this, a sweet moment shared without fear of anyone seeing the two of you. You turn your head to kiss his palm, “You’ve sent me all fucking soft.”

“You love it.”

“Love you, more like,” he says, for the first fucking time, in a Big Tesco. You’d found out you were getting a party bus for your 10th birthday here too, so it was a location for big occasions. You kiss his palm; once, twice, three times.

“You have to say the I or it doesn’t mean anything,” you tease, but you’re beaming up at him as he strokes the skin underneath your eyes and you almost let them flutter shut.

“Who fucking told you that? Sounds like shit Jamie would say.”

“Jan Maas.”

“Fucking prick,” he says, then a moment later, “I love you, then, if you fucking insist.”

“I do insist,” you giggle, leaning forward until your face is in his chest so you can safely say: “I love you too.”

Its a little muffled, but thankfully he doesn’t ask you to repeat it again like you think he will. He just wraps his arms around your shoulders and keeps you close to him for a long while.

“Roy? Hey boyo!!”

You freeze in place, face still hidden. If anything, Roy’s arms tighten around you rather than letting go as he turns to see Colin waving at him, alongside Sam, Isaac, Jamie and the aforementioned Jan Maas. They all pile over towards him and you know its a matter of time before they realise its you. Jamie’s already bounding over as if he’s won the lottery.

“Roy’s got a girl! A real woman, like!” Jamie exclaims as he reaches them and you decide to get this over with sooner than later, lifting your head to stare at him wearily. He frowns, “Oh. Y/N, hiya.”

Of course he isn’t connecting any dots. He isn’t quite the connecting type, however much you love him to little pieces. Sam is staring at you a lot more knowingly, Isaac stuck with his mouth open. They’ve all caught on a little quicker than Jamie.

“The two of you together,” Jan muses, “I do not believe this is a pairing made to last.”

“Oi, Jan Maas,” Isaac pipes up, especially as Roy’s already stepped forward to threaten him, “Not cool.”

“I am just telling you the truth. You are both a little grumpy, you will not have the needed balance.”

“We’re balancing perfectly fucking well, thank you,” Roy says, and you can hear that he’s gritting his teeth, “As a team. Of coaches. Because that’s what we fucking are.”

Oh, he was going to play the ‘it wasn’t what it looked like’ card? You weren’t expecting it, but you’d happily back him up if he wanted you to.

“You are telling me that was a friend hug?” Sam asks, voice full of disbelief. You look up at Roy to see what he’ll say to that, but he’s already looking down at you with an untraceable look on his face. When he finally looks back at the boys, he takes your hand in his.

“No. It was a fucking boyfriend-girlfriend hug, alright? Any of you tell anyone before we do and I’ll feed you to a fucking monitor lizard.”

You’d watched a documentary about them last night that had likely led to that threat. Jamie’s snickering but tries to sober up when Roy immediately turns to him. He holds his hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry mate, I am, I’ve jus’ never heard a grown man say ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ before,” he says, back to giggling by the end of his sentence and Jan Maas is quick to dissolve into full blown laughter. You bring a hand up to your mouth to hide your own amusement, lest Roy feel betrayed by it.

“Right, fuck off and leave us alone then. We’re on a tight fucking movie night schedule and I won’t have you twats throwing us off.”

“Hey! That’s why we’re here! If we’re all doing movie night, why don’t you join us?” Sam asks, and you can see he’s teasing even if Roy can’t tell. Still, you take it as an opportunity to stake your claim as you wrap an arm around Roy’s bicep and cling to him.

“Look, you lot hog this man all day every day. I’m taking him home and we’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

It was very Roy of you, just with the addition of a wink at the end that told the boys you were half-joking. Jamie seemed almost impressed, while Sam was trying not to laugh at you. That man never took you seriously, and you loved it.

“We’ll leave you to it then,” Isaac decided, dragging Jamie backwards a little by the collar when he opened his mouth to tease Roy one final time, “Enjoy your night, yeah? See you tomorrow.”

Roy grunted his goodbye, but you waved back at them when they waved, mostly at you. Jamie mouthed something at Roy but, luckily for you both, Roy couldn’t work it out.

“Pricks,” he mutters once they’re far away enough not to hear him and you let out a little snort.

“They were very nice about that, you know? I was expecting a lot worse,” you said, pleasantly surprised at the lack of proper teasing. You knew there was likely more to come once they’d had a while to process it, but still. There was a certain weight lifted knowing that someone had finally been told.

“Do people not say boyfriend-girlfriend anymore?” he asks abruptly, looking down at you from where you’re still clinging to him. You grin at up at him.

“We should bring it back. I love boyfriend-girlfriend. I think that’s how we should introduce ourselves to people from now on.”

He rolled his eyes at the sarcasm in your voice, but tugged you into a quick, public appropriate kiss nonetheless.

“Let’s get you some fucking hobnobs and then we can go and look at fancy glassware, yeah?,” he announces, shaking his head with such obvious fondness when you cheer and turn to the biscuits. He stays close, a hand hovering near your back, and you’re a little worried movie night might be forgotten when you get home given how handsy the two of you have been all day. You resume your shopping tucked into his side, and only bump into the boys twice more on your trip around the wonders of Big Tesco.

Later, when you’re eventually curled into Roy’s side during a movie night that started way later than intended, your phone buzzes a few too many times in a row to ignore. You glance at Roy quizzically as you grab it, seeing a bunch of texts coming in from Sam.

Couldn’t resist. Don’t let Roy hate me. I’ve deleted them on my phone now, so they’re just yours. Lunch tomorrow?

Roy grumbled a little beside you as he read over your shoulder, but really he should have gotten used to your occasional lunch plans with Sam by now, even if he liked having you all to himself for at least one hour during the day. You settle into him even more as you scroll through a bunch of photos Sam’s attached with wide eyes.

You staring up at Roy. Roy kissing you. The grins on both your faces when you part. Then one that has you reeling, where you’re facing the biscuits with your hands on your hips and Roy is looking at you. Enthralled. You’re not even fucking doing anything.

“That little shit,” Roy breathes, squeezing your thigh where his hand was already resting.

“I love them,” you say instead of responding, tilting your head back to look at Roy, “Our first proper photos together.”

“They look like a fucking pap took them,” he complains, but he's still studying them and you can tell he likes them really.

“Look how happy we look," you’re stuck on how he looks at you when you’re not even looking at him. When there’s nothing to be gained from it. You glance at the new vase sitting on your coffee table, with fresh flowers Roy had insisted on because 'if we're getting a fucking vase we have to fucking fill it'. Here he was, filling your life with so many little pieces of joy.

“Well we are fucking happy, aren’t we?”

There's a little bit of vulnerability in his question, like he needs confirmation. You lock your phone and toss it to the side, knowing you can reply to Sam in a bit. For now, you pause the movie and clamber to straddle Roy’s lap, seeing that look on his face again as he stares up at you. It only spurs you on.

“We’re very fucking happy, Roy.”

He grins, which is rare, but then he kisses you and that’s not rare at all.

(roy makes a mental note to thank sam for the pictures tomorrow, even if he tells him to do extra laps in the same sentence to maintain the balance)

Overactive Empathy

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Nurse!Reader

Summary: A story of an ex-army doctor still haunted by his past who strives to maintain control of his emotions at every turn and a nurse with a sixth sense for the emotions of others that everyone has come to rely on- will a traumatic event force them to confront their true feelings for each other or pull them apart forever?

Tags/Warnings: age gap, yearning, too scared to admit they're in love, empath!reader, angst, panic attacks, comfort, descriptions of blood and pittfest, trauma, happy ending

Word Count: 4.3K & AO3 link

Author’s Note: This may not be everyone’s cup of tea but I could not stop thinking about writing this. I also have absolutely no medical knowledge so enjoy! 

The Pitt - Night Shift

The faint beeping of monitors and clicks of the keyboard mesh with the sounds of patients and staff. The fluorescent lights aren’t the only thing landing on your skin, you feel his stare from chairs away. It doesn’t make you uncomfortable, quite the opposite, it sends a warm feeling rushing through you and when you peek up you catch sight of his silver curls twinkling in the light. 

Dr. Jack Abbott can’t help it, after two years of working alongside you he doesn’t get tired of tracing the slope of your nose or watching the way you bite your lip in concentration. He stopped trying to be discreet a long time ago even after repeatedly being caught by Dr. Robby or Dr. Ellis. You’re both snapped out of your thoughts by the sirens approaching the ambulance bay. By the time the EMTs enter the Pitt you’re standing next to Jack at the ready. 

“Man in his late sixties- disoriented and aggressive. He was distributing patrons outside of a nightclub and eventually someone knocked him down,” the EMT summarized as they wheeled in the man who was strapped down to the gurney. He wasn’t saying anything comprehensible, only letting out grunts as he attempted to free himself. 

“Psych eval?” Jack tilts his head. 

“Yup, no ID or other identification found with him. Probably homeless and off his meds,” the EMT replied. 

“Give me a moment with him,” you step forward, not entirely convinced. Jack’s eyes narrow slightly at the patient who began to twist in his restraints again. Unease grows in his gut but he learned a long time ago not to question you. 

“Don’t get too close to him yet, we may need sedation.” 

He stands at the door watching the interaction closely, his body taut in preparation to intervene. The soldier inside him never left him, those instincts embedded into his bones. 

Slowly you approach the older man, quietly assessing him. Jack watches your hand hover over the patient’s arm for a moment, but what you do is still a mystery to him. 

Eventually it becomes clear to you what he needs. “You must be very tired and thirsty. It’s been a long day,” you murmur softly. This made the man go still, eyes widening as he nodded urgently. He was mute, everything he wanted to say stuck inside him at this moment but his emotions were clear. 

“We’re here to help you,” you give him a reassuring smile as you back away towards the door. The moment you turn, you’re face to face with Jack. You force yourself to stay concentrated on your task and not on Jack’s handsome features. “He’s not homeless, he feels lost and he misses home. He’s also extremely thirsty, so he’s dehydrated which is why he was disoriented and acting out. He wasn’t able to ask for help because he’s mute,” you explain. 

“Not a Psych case then,” he concurs, impressed once more. 

“The usual tests will let us know how dehydrated he is and if there’s other underlying causes. This is a case for the night shift social worker to help with, they just need to find out who he is and where he lives. I think he has family,” you reach for the IV kit. 

“Thanks Sherlock Holmes.” 

There’s no malice or sarcasm in his tone, just his usual dry wit which you’ve come to love. You can see the wheels turning in his head and although he’s never asked questions, you know he keeps trying to figure out how you’re so good at reading patients. 

Intuition, your grandmother winked at you one day when you asked if she had what you had. A curse, your mother declared before she had left for good, not able to handle what she was born with. Overactive empathy was what you had come to call it. It had been overwhelming at first, discovering that as you got in close proximity to someone you could identify their emotions and feel them yourself, all of them. It took many years to build up your control to a point where you felt you could be around people. Out of nursing school you spent your first few years in hospice care, holding the hand of those making their way out of this world, watching the hazy colors around them fade into nothing. Soon the time came to try something new and you found yourself standing in the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center Emergency Department, hoping to make a difference and make use of your ability in a new way. 

It was an open secret, the little trick you had up your sleeve. No one put a specific label on it and on one questioned it. Anytime you interacted with a patient who needed that extra level of support, with a simple glance or press of your hand to their shoulder you seemed to read their emotions to a tee. It had also helped de-escalate potentially dangerous situations, preventing many fights in the halls of the Pitt. In this world, it was all about the patient and being able to read them was an asset. Their feelings and experiences are half of the story when they walk in through the doors. 

Grabbing your backpack from your locker you take your time walking back to the nursing station to clock out. It gives you time to admire Jack who stands at the counter, his blue eyes flickering across the screen. Dr. Abbot - the broody, stalwart and incredibly selfless man who captured your heart. Not that you would ever admit it, you were years younger and convinced he could do much better. What catches your attention is his posture, he’s leaning heavily against the counter hoping no one can notice his discomfort. 

“Is it bothering you again?” you whisper as you stand next to him. Jack grimaces as he flexes the prosthetic foot under his khakis, internally kicking himself for showing a trace of weakness.  

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he grits out. 

“Liar,” you muse, swiping your badge to clock out for the night. 

His face turns stoic as he stares you down, intimidating as hell to others but not to you. You stare right back, waiting until one of you inevitably cracks. His dimples pop out as he lets out a hearty laugh. Several people send you curious looks, an Abbot laugh was rare. 

“It's not fair if you use that trick on me,” he pretends to sound mad. Not that you would ever intentionally violate his privacy by delving further than his surface area emotions. 

“It’s not like I can read minds.”

“It’s close enough.”

“I don’t have to use anything on you Abbot. It's clear as day.”

He feels that familiar swoop in his stomach at your words, forcing himself to not say anything stupid. 

“Will you be here tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here, just in case you pick up another shift,” you tease, finally starting to walk away. He winks at you and you feel like you’re floating on clouds all the way home. 

The Pitt - Day Shift

Today was a never ending roller coaster and it was going to give you whiplash. Angry patients, argumentative family members, interpersonal drama, fucking rats. Then Dana had gotten punched, which had rattled all of the nurses. It had brought you to tears seeing her bruised face and bloody nose, your mentor and dear friend. She had shushed you in a motherly fashion, assuring you and everyone else she would live long enough to finish the shift as long as she had another cigarette. 

It was also the first day for new residents and medical students, another layer to the never ending day. You took it in stride as always offering helpful advice and keeping an eye on them for Robby making sure they didn’t mess up too badly. Some had already latched onto you, King and Whittaker frequently asking you to join them on patient care. 

You could immediately sense that today was an off day for Robby, as you assisted with his difficult cases you could see the strain behind his eyes and his increasing use of the word fuck. He also kept asking you about what the patients were feeling long after they had died. It wasn’t a good sign. 

“Is he asking you about dead people again?” Dana hands you a cup of tea. You nod. 

“Christ Almighty he’s a morbid one,” she shakes her head with a sad smile. “Wish Collins hadn’t left early, she knows how to get him back on track.”

....

“Do you think he feels anything? Even if he’s brain dead?” Robby asked you as you stood side by side, about to enter to give the parents of the overdose victim the final verdict on their son. 

“No...he doesn’t feel anything. There’s nothing,” you replied truthfully.

“What do you think she felt while she drowned?” he asked as they wheeled the young girl's body out of the trauma room. You think back to when you had held onto her tiny cold hand as they worked to bring her back. 

“She felt scared and exhausted but she also felt certain. Certain that she had saved her sister.”

Robby finds comfort in your candidness to his morbid questions, you’ve always been honest with him and a shoulder for him to lean on. He knew he was being extra hard on you today and he would apologize with your favorite snack by the end of the shift. 

None of this compared to what came next. 

“What’s going on?” you can feel the anxiety spike in the room as phones and pagers go off. Gloria is talking to Robby and Dana on the side in a serious manner, their faces pinching with worry. Shooting, Pittfest, mass casualties, are words that fill the air. It seems to suck the oxygen out of the room, a sobering reminder of the world you lived in. Taking a deep breath you steady your nerves as instructions are being shared to the whole team. Suddenly a familiar warmth settles next to you, calloused hands brushing against yours. 

“You okay?” Jack asks quietly. 

“I’m fine...but all of those people that are going to come in-,” you shudder at the thought. 

“You don’t have to, you know, get too close to them if it gets too much,” he finally faces you as people start to rush around you. With his eyes trained on you it feels like you’re both in your own world for a moment. 

“I know, but I want to help them. Anyway I can,” you reply, eyes filling with determination. It reminds him why he does this job, why he comes back. 

Reality breaks apart your bubble as Dana calls out your name and Robby pulls Jack towards the team of doctors. Everything after that is a whirlwind, a mass casualty event hitting an already understaffed ED like a hurricane. Every ounce of training is in use as you work tirelessly alongside your colleagues to save every life that passed through those doors. It soon becomes clear there's not enough blood, medications or supplies. Only sheer willpower will get you all through this. 

“Everyone please use the sedatives and morphine sparingly! More is coming but it's minutes out!” Dana shouted from the nurses station. 

Following her announcement, a flurry of movement caught your attention in the Red Zone. The patient was thrashing on the gurney, arms flying around wildly as she shouted in pain, begging them to stop from pressing against her broken legs. Without hesitation you rushed over, hands slipping into the fray until they pressed against the woman’s face. Jack watched as you brought your head closely against hers, eyes scrunching tightly in concentration. 

“You feel tired, so tired,” you repeated softly over and over again.

Slowly her shouts became nothing but disgruntled murmurs, her eyes closing and arms falling sluggishly at her side. No one else seemed to notice what you had done, preoccupied with her impending blood loss and shattered bones. Jack could do nothing more than send you a grateful nod before you slipped away once more to assist on the next patient. 

Unfortunately she had not been the last patient you had helped calm down, dozens more streamed into the Pitt in various states of emotional distress and you did your best to keep them from overwhelming the rest of the staff. It was starting to wear you down, drain your energy reserves as you still ran from zone to zone, arms full of supplies and bags of blood. Dry blood mixed with your sweat caked your arms, and your lungs burned from the smell of antiseptic and alcohol in the air. Give me strength, you begged the universe. 

You had been standing by the ambulance bay doors, replenishing supplies for the Red Zone when another wave of gurneys and patients flooded in once more. You hadn’t even had a chance to set down the IV bags in your hands when a tall man stumbled straight into your body. Blood stained hands clasped onto your shoulders with such force you could feel the bruises start to form. His eyes were wild and he kept repeating someone's name over and over. Time seemed to slow around you as his emotions flowed into your body like a dam had broken- hair raising panic, paralyzing fear, and pain that brought you to your knees. Your vision swam, all you could see now was bodies piled upon each other and hear the cries of those hit by the spray of bullets. A high pitched ringing filled your ears and your throat was suddenly raw. 

Your ear splitting screams snapped Jack out of his concentration, his heart lurching at the scene before him. He barely had time to make sure Dr. Mohan had a handle on the patient before he was running full speed towards you, Robby at his side. The man was ripped away from you by Robby and one of the security guards who wrangled him onto a gurney. All you could do was cover your eyes as if that would stop the horrific visions in your head. 

“Look at me, you gotta breathe (Y/N),” Jack begged as he stood in front of you, hands hovering over your shoulders not wanting to make it worse. His heart was beating a million miles per minute and he felt as if he was staring in the mirror, the traumatized medic in the throes of a panic attack staring back at him. Except now it was you. 

You shook your head, stumbling backwards blindly into the wall. There was only one option he could think of at that moment. Without missing a beat, Jack grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you over his shoulder as you let out another desperate cry. The whole Pitt had frozen, shocked at the turn of events. 

“Get back to work dammit!” Jack roared, making everyone flinch as they rushed to return back to the task at hand, averting their eyes. 

In a few strides he made it to the end of the wing and into the empty on-call bathroom, slamming the door behind him with his foot. By this point you had gone limp over his shoulder, letting out the occasional whimper. He set you down lightly onto the shower floor, hand reaching up to the shower knob. 

“I’m sorry baby but it will help I promise,” Jack couldn’t stop the term of endearment from slipping out. 

You seemed to be stuck in some sort of trance, another agonizing scream slipping past your lips as you hunched over. Suddenly ice cold water flowed from the shower head hitting your body in a forceful gush. A high pitched gasp filled the air as your eyes flew open from the shock. Shivering hands immediately reached out to find Jack’s arms, needing something to ground you as the temperature of the water numbed your frayed nerves. 

“Jack.”

“You’re safe, you’re in the bathroom now. You’re not there,” he assured you, hand smoothing your drenched hair out of your face. Tears swam in your eyes and you nodded numbly, trying to reorient yourself. His hand settled on your cheek, watching the water pour down your red cheeks. Even now, he thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  He was only a few short seconds away from climbing into the shower with you when the door squeaked open. 

“Dr. Abbot, they need you out there,” Princess frowns as she takes in your state. He gives her his harshest stare, about to protest but you push his arms weakly. 

“Go,” you say. “Princess and I will handle it from here,” you look up at her. She gives a nod of affirmation. 

“I’ll get her cleaned up, Dr. Abbot,” she promises, reaching for towels. 

I need to stay with you and protect you, he wants to say to you. I can’t live another moment without you. 

So many unsaid words stuck in his throat. Jack wishes you would just look into him and decipher his emotions so he wouldn’t have to say them out loud. It wasn’t the right time, it never was. He couldn’t stand risking everything you had just to lose you if you didn’t feel the same way. Instead of staying as his heart begged him to, he stands, ignoring the pain in his leg as he walks out without a word feeling like a coward. 

Your heart squeezes painfully as you watch Jack go but you can’t stop him. By the time Princess helps you change into clean scrubs it feels like hours have passed. She stays silent the whole time, giving you space as you rebuild the mental blocks in your head. Eventually you walk out onto the floor which is still wet with blood, doctors and nurses running to and fro with urgency. Sirens blare in the distance without stopping. Smoothing your hands over your new scrubs you hoped you looked better than you felt. 

“Go home,” Robby’s baritone voice is the first thing you hear. 

“I don’t believe you can send me home Dr. Robby,” you glance up at him. He looks absolutely wrecked, likely the same as you. 

“Dana-,” he turns to Dana who is by your side next. Dana knows you well, knows you wouldn't be standing here if you couldn’t handle it. 

“I can’t force her to leave Robby. Trust that she knows her own limits,” Dana squeezes your hand. You squeeze it back in thanks. “We still have patients to help, let’s go kiddo,” she guides you back into the disaster zone, arm over your shoulder.  

It’s when the emergency protocol is finally at an end and the last Pittfest patient is stabilized that you spot Robby again. Robby had been walking on a tight line today, Leah’s death finally pushing him over the edge. You had heard the terrible things Jake had yelled at him moments ago. 

“Hard day yeah?” 

“For both of us I’d say,” he laughs dryly, tears beginning to leak once again from the corners of his eyes. 

“You’ve shouldered the burden of so much today Robby. Let me help you,” you extend your hand to him. 

“I can’t do that to you,” he shakes his head, knowing what you’re offering. 

“This may be the only time I offer this to you Robby. Trust me,” you say. He shifts uneasily in place before finally making his decision. He takes your hand. The colors around him darken, his frustration, grief, anger and disappointment swirling around him like a storm. 

“Go home soon and sleep. It will come easy tonight,” you say. Robby feels a warm sensation run up his arm, filling his chest with a lightness he hadn’t felt in years. The tension in his shoulders visibly eases and he feels like he can properly breathe again. Before he can thank you, you’re gone. 

You hand found a quiet space in the supply closet to unwind, taking advantage of the day shift and night shift switching places. Sitting in the dim room you allow the events of the day to wash over you, taking steadying breaths to settle your emotions. Then you would find Jack and hope he didn’t look at you differently like you were something that had been crushed into tiny pieces. 

You hadn’t left Jack’s mind since he had left you in the shower, your screams echoing in his mind. Compartmentalizing all of his emotions and stuffing them into the back of his mind was the only thing that kept him sane for the remaining shift. The moment he finally handed off the last patient to Shen and Ellis he was on the lookout for you. Unable to find you yet, Jack makes his way up to the roof as he does after most shifts, muscle memory taking over. He’s not surprised to see Robby staring at the city skyline from the ledge. 

“I think I finally understand why I keep coming back now,” Jack calls out to Robby. “It's in our DNA. It's what we do. We can't help it. Not everyone can do it, it takes a special type of person,” he says, thinking of you. 

“Maybe you, not me,” Robby shakes his head as he steps back onto the roof. 

“What are you talking about?” Jack’s tone is incredulous. 

“You know damn well what I'm talking about. I broke. I shut down. At the moment everybody needed me the most, I wasn't there. I couldn't do it. I choked,” Robby hangs his head.  

“Don’t say that you broke in there because if that was you breaking apart then that means (Y/N)-,” he stops himself, unable to finish the sentence. “You’re not broken, you’re just human. We all are.”

Robby sighs. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“You’re stronger than you think. She’s stronger than she thinks. Just because you both got overwhelmed today doesn’t mean you’re broken, not even close,” Jack says. “I used to think there was a weakness in feeling too much. Never allowed myself to cry or grieve even when-,” he pauses thinking back to his time after he came back from the army, what had happened to his ex wife and her untimely death years ago. 

“This is starting to sound less like a pep talk and more like you need to go find her,” Robby crosses his arms. Jack remains silent, running his hand through his messy curls as he paces back and forth. 

“What are you going to do Jack? It’s been months of you pining after her. We all saw it on that karaoke night-.”

“Don’t even,” Jack scowls at the memory which makes Robby laugh for the first time tonight.  

You had been singing alongside Dana and McKay, your smile infectious as you swayed your hips to the beat. Jack had scoffed at the idea of karaoke night with the team but seeing you up there, he was entranced by the lights making your skin shimmer, your smudged lipstick and sweet voice. The only thing that snapped him out of it was watching a young guy approach you with a shot and a flirtatious grin. It had taken both Robby and Shen to hold him back, dragging him back to the booth by the scruff of his neck. 

There wasn’t anything more to say so they descended back down to reality, one step at a time. By the time he and Robby exit the Pitt doors, there was only one thing on Jack’s mind. 

“You gonna grab a beer with us?” Robby asks as they cross the street but he already knows the answer. 

“I have to do something first. Something long overdue,” Jack stations himself at the entrance of the park. 

“Fucking finally,” Robby claps his shoulder. “Tell her I said goodnight.”

“I heard you’ve been asking her about dead people again, not cool man!”

“Sorry! Sorry, I’ll make an effort to stop that,” Robby throws his hands up before disappearing into the park. 

Jack steels himself in place, waiting and praying he hadn’t missed you. His instincts were correct as usual, you soon appeared before him with a tired smile gracing your lips, backpack hanging off your hand. For a moment the only sound is the wind rustling through the trees. Slowly he takes measured steps closer to you, until he can see the small scar on your top lip. You take the moment to admire the freckles that adorn his nose and cheeks. You were nervous seconds ago, but not anymore. 

Finally Jack speaks. “You wanna know what I see when I look at you?” he whispers, his strong hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I see the woman that I love, who makes me want to live life, not just survive it. I see a woman with the endless capacity to help others, the strongest person I know.”

“I- you saw what happened to me today. It may not always be easy,” your voice is thick with emotion. 

“You know me better than anyone, it won’t be easy with me either, but we have each other.”

“That’s all I need - you.” 

Lifting yourself on your tiptoes you press your nose to his, your lips hovering over one another. Electricity crackles between you, months of yearning and unspoken tension threatening to break free. His muscular arm wraps around your waist, tethering you to him. 

“Come home with me, where you belong.” 

“I thought you’d never ask,” you whisper. 

Then something blooms in his chest, a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time - hope. You can see the fuzzy color around him lighten into a beautiful blue color, like the sky on a sunny day. 

“Feel it with me?” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, letting the mental blocks down momentarily. The moments your lips touch bursts of colors fill your mind and you feel it all. His love encompasses you, his hope for the future with you and passion makes your skin tingle. 

“I love you Jack Abbot.”

“I love you more."

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ Chocolate Bars and Injuries [3]

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader

AN: This is a fluff filler chapter but I do love this lil family so sue me. I want to post these more frequently but I can't write as fast as I used to lol. I need some angst ideas for these two and Robby ideas if any of you have any <3

TW: Parental death, usual medical inaccuracies. drunk driving. mentions of death by drunk driving. mentions of Jack's amputation.

Synopsis: Your's and Jack's relationship progress and you meet a few people at The Pitt properly.

TAG LIST: @darksparklesficrecs @flyinglama @lonelyloomis @antisocialfiore @impossibleblizzardstudentposts

PART ONE PART TWO

Jack’s presence in your life has brought immense happiness. The past few months were consumed by mourning your parents and learning to parent Caspian, leaving little time for self-reflection. However, Jack has transformed everything.

Now, you’re a few months into your relationship, and it’s a new experience for both of you. Things were going slow, Jack's schedule being the biggest reason but also he had never dated someone with a young child and you were trying to navigate it together. Jack cringes whenever you introduce yourselves as girlfriend or boyfriend, feeling too old for the term, preferring the term ‘partner.’ But you don’t mind; you love calling him your boyfriend.

The chime of the doorbell echoed throughout the house signifying Jack's arrival and you skipped over to open it, immediately smiling at the man on the other side

"You're spoiling him y'know" You say as you spy the toy store bag amongst the many Jack holds.

"You gonna tell me to stop?" Jack asks as he steps in the house, passing you the flowers he held. Jack waits until the flowers are firmly in your grasp before he pulls you into a kiss, deepening the kiss as he tries to figure out the flavour of your lip gloss.

"What is that, strawberry?" Jack's brows were furrowed as pulls away.

"Grape!" You grin, pecking him once more before you step away.

You sniff the flowers as you walk into the kitchen as Jack follows you automatically, the routine ingrained amongst all the others he held, "No, but what's your plan for when he grows old and out of Hot Wheels?"

Jack retrieves the vase from where it rests and fills it up with water as you trimmed the stems. This was another part of the routine that the two of you had formed, built- off of weeks of dates and flower gifting.

"I don't know... does the kid like fishing?"

"Fishing?" You laugh, "When was the last time you went fishing? Besides the kid is five, what he likes changes every week."

"I went a few years ago with Robby and Frank." Jack tells you, holding the vase out for you.

Your fingers rest over his on the vase as you peer up at him, "And how did that go?"

"Two days one night camped out in one tent next to a lake in the height of summer and all we managed to catch were fish only big enough to feed a starving feral cat" Jack grimaced," You can imagine how well it went."

You laugh at his expression before you turn back to finish up with the flowers, "Well maybe it's best we stay away from fishing but you know, he has been talking about going camping recently. I was thinking about doing it in the backyard."

"Now camping I know alot about. I can take him camping. I can do the whole nine yards... smores, campfire Stargazing and campfire stories"

Jack's hands grasp your hips, giving them a squeeze before he turns you around, an almost hesitant look on his face, "Or is that too much? I don't want to overstep."

"You're not overstepping. I think Cas will really enjoy that." You stretch your arms to wrap around Jack's neck, "Obviously me and Cas are a package deal, it's the both of us or none of us but... are you really sure you want to do this? If you want to get really serious with me, you get serious with Cas and I don't want my relationship with you to be separate from my life with Cas, you all have to tie in together."

"Hey" Jack pulls you into a gentle brief kiss, "I know that. I really like Cas and spending time with him. I also really like you and dating you, I know all of this and it doesn't change a thing."

You beam at him before you pull him into a deep kiss that lasts until your phone chimes reminding you that you had to collect him from his regular weekend Karate lessons.

"Just to let you know, Cas will be showing off all his Karate moves tonight." You say as you leave the house, heading to your car, Jack following behind you.

"I am a more than willing practice dummy. I have a few moves of my own that I learnt when I was serving..." Jack quips, squeezing his body into the passenger seat, "Why can't we take my truck?"

"First of all, you're not using any combat moves on a five year old and secondly, you don't have a car seat for him" You remind him. "C'mon doctor Abbot it's child safety 101."

Jack huffs a laugh but he makes a reminder on his phone for his next free day to do research on the best car seats for children Cas' age to have in his truck.

With Cas down for his afternoon nap, immensely helped by his Karate class, you decided to watch a film with Jack and so you delegated the task of finding a film to watch to Jack whilst you did snacks and drinks. So you were in the kitchen making popcorn while he explored your living room, staring at the many family portraits hanging around and looking through the immense music and film collection accumulated by your parents.

"You've got Heat, Top Gun, The Shining… I remember watching these when I was young. Plus the music collection over there... this is amazing." Jack said in amazement as he continued to flick through the collection.

You laugh at him as you place the drinks and popcorn down on the coffee table, soda for you, beer from one of the many bags he brought with him, for him.

"Yeah my parents collected them. There's more in the loft but they've got a massive collection spanning decades. They used to go to garage sales, flea markets—you name it." You smile as you think about your parents, "Those were my parent's favourites from their childhood so I guess that tracks, you're like the same age as them."

Jack's face goes through many emotions as he looks at you with wide eyes, "I didn't mean to bring them up."

"You mean you don't like being reminded that you're the same age as my parents?" You tease, "Don't worry I don't have daddy issues— well not like that."

 "I don't want to bring up something you're uncomfortable with." Jack says.

"It's not illegal. You can ask about them." You take a seat, Jack quickly joining you, "Don't get me wrong it's a sore subject but my therapist always likes to remind me that not everything is captured on camera or film and if we don't share our memories, we forget them and I have about twenty five years more of them than Cas has."

"Yeah, therapists are great at reminding you to take your head out of your ass." Jack mutters, remembering the reality checks his therapist gives him.

Jack hesitated for a moment before speaking again, asking, “How did they pass?”

You tuck yourself into Jack's side, bracing yourself to talk about something that you've only spoken about to your therapist," Drunk driver. Ran a red light and T-boned them."

"Shit..." Jack swore as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and squeezed it, comforting you.

"Cas was in the car with them." Your words were quiet but Jack could hear the underlying grief, "My dad died at the scene, mom died in surgery. Cas was in PICU for a week. I was so close to losing my entire family that night."

There's a pause where you take a mouthful of your drink, creating a break, pacing yourself before you reveal a part of you that weighed heavily upon you everyday. 

"A part of me still expects them to walk through those doors and then everything will go back to how it was. A part of me still feels like a teenager, always looking towards their parents for guidance but I'm grown now. I'm scared about letting Cas down, about failing him. I became a guardian— a parent overnight and I feel so out of my depth." You sniffle, emotions beginning to creep up, "It's why I haven't gone through any of their stuff yet. It's why I'm still sleeping in my childhood bedroom and why I haven't had a single sip of alcohol since."

Jack wraps his arms around you as you sobbed into his chest, it was obvious this was heavily weighing on you. Sure you spoke with a therapist but you hadn't let yourself really vent and cry having put all of your energy towards Cas. You cry until you fall asleep in his arms and he nods off shortly after, movie long forgotten. He's awoken by Caspian an unknown amount of time later, the kid crawling underneath his other arm and shaking him as he calls out his name.

"What's up kid?" Jack asks, blinking off the nap brain he had.

Caspian holds up his empty water bottle, "Water please"

"Sure." Jack nods before he untangles himself from you, making sure you dont wake up before he picks Caspian up, easily settling the child on his hip.

Jack had gotten comfortable with Caspian over the last few months and Jack had never imagined himself bonding with a young child the way he had with Caspian but Jack loved the little set-up he had with you and Caspian. He had never married or had children, his past and preference towards working the night shift usually turning people off but he believed he had something special with you and by extension Caspian.

Jack sits Caspian on the kitchen island before he opens the fridge looking for the water jug when your croaky voice speaks up from the doorway.

"Just use the tap, it's filtered for drinking." You say as you approach Caspian, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Huh... bougie" Jack mutters as he fills the water bottle.

"I know right" You laugh,"I never had any of this stuff when I grew up or lived alone, so I'm indulging in the gadgets my parents splurged on."

"Have you thought about moving?" Jack asks.

"Yeah, sometimes" You answer as you putter around the kitchen making Caspian's snack plate,"It's complicated though. This house is great, it's paid off, it has plenty of space and it's in a good location with Cas' school and my job but this place is filled with the ghosts of my parents and a part of me wants a fresh start especially if I have my own children..."

"Don't read too much into that last part" You quickly say, realising what you had just said.

Jack waits until Caspian is distracted eating in the other room before he says,"... Do you want kids?"

You shrug, "Before all of this yeah but now... I'm not sure. Cas is my top priority now."

"You'll have to prioritise yourself too at some point."

You shrug once again, something that Jack has now come to realise was a way for you to not answer a question, it was a non answer before you diverted the conversation.

"What about you? Do you want kids?" You ask.

Jack keeps eye contact with you as he shrugs, watching the smile on your face as you realise he was mimicking you with sharp eyes, "I didn't think I would be a good father and according to Dana, I'm a bit of a dark and grumpy bastard that turns off most women."

"Not me though"

"Yeah not you"

"Wonder what that says about me"

"I don't" Jack crowds into your space, brushing his lips against yours, "I like you exactly as you are."

"You're such a charmer" You mumble before you tug him into a kiss.

"Alright kid, your sister told me you wanted to show off what you learnt in class today" Jack said as he kneeled down so he rested on one knee, groaning underneath his breath knowing that his body will regret it in the morning.

Caspian perked up, immediately jumping up from the couch to get into position in the middle of the living room rug.

You watched from your place in the kitchen, thankful for the open plan layout so that you can see everything as you cooked. Jack had tried to convince you to order in but you had to remind him that every date you have been on had consisted of dinner dates and you wanted to treat him to a home cooked meal, especially since this was the first time he's actually spent time at your house, having usually just stopping by to pick you up. 

"Ready?!" Caspian asks, ready to show off.

Jack nods, a small smile tugging on his lips. "Yep, c'mon!"

Caspian gives his own nod and he takes a couple of steps before he throws himself into Jack, the impact knocking him backwards onto his back, breath leaving him roughly. 

"Oof!"

"Cas!" You gasp, running over to them, trying your hardest not to laugh but oh man the scene was so funny. "That was not a karate move!"

You lean over Jack, fingers drifting over his head fearing that he may have cracked his head open, "You okay doc? You able to self-diagnose?"

Jack's eyes crinkle as he erupts into laughter, his whole body vibrating as he does so, "Help an old man up?"

Jack reaches an arm up and you swiftly grab it to help him up, missing the devious smirk on his lips as he tugs hard, pulling you on top of him with a muffled huff. There's a beat of silence before you burst into laughter as well, giggling at the absurdity of it all and not wanting to be left out, Caspian jumps on top of you, squashing you in between the both of them.

"This is ridiculous" You giggle, "I'm supposed to be cooking dinner, not doing whatever the hell this is."

"Stay, this is fun!" Caspian speaks, his words coming out mushed as he spoke into your back.

"This is very fun," You agree as you push yourself off of Jack, Caspian's weight not affecting you as you stood, "Unfortunately dinner will be burnt if I don't go back to the kitchen."

This time Jack doesn't drag you down when you grab his hand to pull him to his feet before you turn back to Caspian and tickle his belly, "And I know what monster you turn into when you don't eat so I shouldn't let it get burned should I?"

At Caspian's admitting nod, you return to the kitchen but not before you warn both of them that if they do any more 'karate' moves then neither of them are getting dessert.

It's nearing two am when you finally peel yourself away from Jack's side and the couch where you had been glued to for the past who-knows how many hours finally watching the films that Jack found earlier. Caspian was on the other end of the couch, curled up underneath a blanket after falling asleep midway through the first film and you couldn't be bothered to take him to bed so you left him there.

You let out a soft moan of pleasure as you stretched your tense muscles. Sleep was tugging at you and all you wanted was to crawl into bed.

"What do you want me to do?" Jack's words are murmured as he stands behind you, warm hands resting on your hips.

"Let me lock up and then you can take him upstairs"

Jack nods and gives your hips a squeeze watching as you leave to turn off the lights and lock the doors before you return to him.

Once Caspian is tucked in bed and snoozing away, you close his bedroom door, leaving it open just a smidge for when he wakes up in the morning and you pull Jack to the landing.

You glance up at Jack , "You know you're staying the night right?"

Jack did not know that. 

Jack wasn't going to drive home, he had seen and treated too many people who were the victims of drunk driving but he was planning on taking a taxi home.

"I was going to call a taxi…" Jack admitted.

"Not anymore you're not," You roll your eyes before pausing and looking back at him, "You don't have any problems with sleeping in my parent's bedroom  do you?"

Jack eyes her, trying not to reveal his shock, "Your what?"

You grin, winking at him, "I'm just joking, we have a guest room."

Jack's shoulders untense, "Not funny."

"You can use some of my dads clothes to sleep in, unless you have spare ones in your little go-bag."

"Tactical rucksack" Jack corrects

"Right, right of course" You giggle, "I apologise."

You take him to the guest room, waving him in, "It hasn't been used in a while but it's clean and there's a bathroom next door. I'll be back with clothes and towels for you."

Jack quickly peels off his trousers once you've left, kicking them off as he sits on the bed and takes off his prosthetic, massaging his leg with practised ease, soothing the usual ache that lingered when he wore it all day.

He hadn’t mentioned his leg or what had happened, and it wasn’t entirely deliberate to keep it a secret. However, he was clueless about how to bring it up naturally. He knew you well enough to understand that you wouldn’t pressure him for answers or perceive him differently. Nevertheless, the lingering anxiety in his mind kept his thoughts racing with ‘what ifs’.

Jack was so engrossed in his thoughts that he missed the knock on the door. He only looked up when you let out a surprised yelp. He watched as your eyes trailed down his body, momentarily pausing at his crotch. The image of him in tight boxer briefs was seared into your mind before they continued down his body to his legs. As you realised what you were looking at, you knew you had intruded on a private moment, you quickly slammed your eyes shut, arms thrust in front of you holding the towel and clothes and squeaked out an apology.

Jack grabs the items out of your hand silently and you immediately scurry out of the room, apologising once more before you shut the door behind you.

"Well that takes care of that" Jack laughs incredulously. 

You threw yourself onto your bed with a groan, feeling embarrassed about your impulsive action. You should have knocked until you heard him speak, but instead, you barged right in and then fled like a child.

As you changed into your pajamas, you realised how little you truly knew about Jack. You knew he had served in the military and had friends at the hospital, but you hadn’t actually met any of them. Jack was a complex individual, and you hadn’t even scratched the surface of his layers.

A knock at the door startles you, and you take a deep breath, knowing that it could only be one person.

Jack stood on the other side of the door, hair still damp from his shower, his curls refreshed and smelling of the shampoo whilst he stood in a simple t-shirt and joggers.

"Hey," Jack's eyes flicker over you, searching for a sign of disgust or anything.

"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to barge in on you," You instantly apologise, "Especially not when…"

Your words trail off, not knowing the right words to say.

"Can I come in?" Jack asks and you immediately nod, shuffling him towards your bed.

"I realised I hadn't told you anything about me, not really. So where do I start?" Jack sighs as he sits up against your headboard, "I'm an old man with a long list of stories."

"You're not old," You say as you easily climb in bed beside him. You couldn't help it, it was like your body craved being next to him, "You talk about whatever you want and I'll just listen."

And so Jack did, he told you about his life story, not all of it but you had definitely peeled back a few layers of the man. You hear about his enlistment and attending medical school and then he briefly talks about the incident that resulted in losing his foot, it still being a topic that he finds hard to discuss. Then he talks about coming to Pittsburgh and meeting Robby and why he likes to work the nightshift.

"Will I ever get to meet Robby or any of your other friends?" You ask once he's finished speaking.

Jack looks down at you with a half frown, half smile, voice teasing "You've already met Robby."

You roll your eyes, "No I didn't. I saw him at Tanner's party, that doesn't count."

"Huh, really…"

"What's stopping me from visiting during the day shift hmm?"

"I'll tell security to ban you, I'll hand your mugshot out as well."

You muffle your laughter into your palm, "I'll tell Frank to let me in, they'll trust him right, since he's a doctor"

"He's still a resident, I outrank him." Jack leans down to press a kiss to your lips. "Nice try though."

"You going to go back to the guest room?" You ask, curling up to Jack's side.

Jack's words are whispered, "Do you want me to?"

"No" You whisper back.

Jack pulls away causing you to groan in disappointment but you take the opportunity to slip underneath the duvet. Your eyes never left his form as he bent off to take his prosthesis off with ease that takes years of experience.

You curl back into Jack's side once he joins you underneath the duvet, melting into his warmth. Jack switches off the bedside light and your limbs twisting around each other as you relax into the bed. You want to thank Jack for opening up but you are quickly lulled into sleep, mind going blank as Jack wrapped his body around yours.

You eventually meet Jack’s hospital colleagues, but not on his terms.

Jack stayed at yours like he usually did on his day off but this time it was slightly different since his truck had been in the shop for a week. On Friday morning after he got off of shift he went home and did his usual routine and then you picked him up after work and took him to yours. He had Saturday off, spent it with you and Caspian, slept over, and then had lunch with you and Caspian on Sunday before you dropped him off for his Sunday evening shift. However, when he left the car, his wallet fell out of his pocket and dropped onto the seat, unnoticed by either of you.

You didn’t realise until the next morning on Monday when you pulled up at work after dropping Caspian at school. Since you wouldn’t see Jack until the end of the week, you decided to drop it off on your lunch break. So, you left him a message saying you’d leave it at the front desk of the hospital’s ED.

The waiting room was loud and crowded when you entered, filling with people bleeding, limping, coughing and sneezing as they waited for to be finally called back to be treated. You tapped your foot as you waited in line, Jack's wallet clenched tightly in your hand.

You flinch when a hand grabs your arm and you look back to see a doctor that looks vaguely familiar.

"Hey, I remember you," The woman says, casting a cursory look up and down your body, "Are you okay?"

You frown as you face the woman, still unable to place where you recognised her. "Yeah I'm fine…I'm sorry I don't know…"

"I'm Dr McKay. Cassie. I was at Tanner's birthday party with my son."

"Ah." You nod, finally remembering, "Yeah sorry I'm fine, I've just got Jack's- sorry, Dr Abbot's wallet. I was just leaving it here so he can pick it up on his next shift."

Dr McKay's expression changes as her brows rise on her head and her eyes widen as she slowly nods her head, "Why don't I take you through and you can just leave it at the charge station."

"Why can't I just leave it with you?" You question but you let her guide you through the doors through to the ED.

"You could but if I let this opportunity fall through I'll never be forgiven." Dr McKay tells you as you walk towards a hub of activity, presumably the charge station.

"Hey Dana, Robby!" Dr McKay calls out catching the attention of a blonde nurse and dark haired doctor. You recognise them from Tanner's birthday as well, which of course makes sense considering Frank's job.

You introduce yourself and Robby instantly recognises you and introduces himself and Dana.

"I'd hate to interrupt your work, I just planned to leave it at reception," You say as you flash the wallet, "I told him I'd leave it there anyway…"

A smirk grew on Dana's face once she caught sight of the familiar wallet and Robby's smile stretched so wide his cheeks bunched up. They were loving this and they couldn't wait until Jack clocked in for the evening shift.

"You are so not interrupting." Robby's words were interrupted by his laughter.

Your own smile dances on your lips when you realise why they were so giddy, "Don't be too mean to him."

"This is a once in a lifetime opportunity here," McKay interjects, "Abbot almost never slips."

You pass the wallet over to Robby who slips it into his pocket so that Jack will have to go up to him personally to get it back. 

"Is a grumpy Jack the best person to work with?" You ask with a laugh.

"It's why he works the night shift," Dana chimes in, "Usually less people than the day shift during the week."

"He was plenty nice to me" You shrug.

"That's because you're a pretty woman." McKay snickers, Dana nodding along.

"Ooh-kay. I have to get back to work but it was nice meeting you all, officially." You wave at them before you turn and leave, bumping into Frank but you only have enough time to simply say 'Hello' before you're disappearing through the doors.

Frank watches you go with a raised eyebrow before he turns back to the group at the charge station, "What's that all about?"

"Did you know she's with Abbot?" Dana asks.

Frank nods, not knowing what the big deal was, "Yeah for at least a couple of months or at least that's what Abby said."

"Huh…" Robby nods, "Interesting."

Jack grumbles as he leaves the frontdesk empty handed, heading towards the charge station hoping that his wallet was there instead, he just hoped the usual suspects were busy with patients. He deliberately arrived an hour earlier in hopes of collecting his wallet without being ambushed.

The charge station was empty and Jack quickly made his way over and began to search through the desk, pushing files and tablets aside as he searched for his wallet. He was midway through pushing a computer to the side when somebody clears their throat behind him, causing him to straighten slowly and turn around.

"Looking for something?" Robby asks, holding up the wallet in question.

Dana was next to him, failing miserably to conceal her smirk, "She's pretty. When were you planning on introducing her to us?"

Jack grumbled once again, stomping over and snatching the wallet from Robby and putting it in his bag.

"I wasn't."

"Not that it matters anyway," Robby laughs, before deciding to torment Jack even further, "We got enough info anyway."

"Langdon!" Jack immediately snaps his head over to the clueless doctor who looked up from his tablet with wide eyes, "What the hell is your problem?"

Langdon frowns in confusion, "What did I do?"

"Talking about shit that doesn't concern you." Jack snaps, "Whatever your wife tells you, you keep it to yourself."

Langdon continues to look at him wide eyed and confused, "What are you talking about?"

Finally Robby cuts in, sparing his resident from anymore abuse from the night shift attending.

"Frank didn't say anything, Jack. Stop bullying the poor man."

Jack turns Robby, "Were you just fucking with me?"

Robby laughs, "Yeah pretty much but she seemed nice."

Jack's tense shoulders relax slightly, "She is nice."

"Pretty too." Dana adds.

"Uh-huh." Jack doesn't try to entertain the conversation even further. They knew enough already.

"You have to let us meet her properly, you know!" Robby called out as Jack walked out of the ED, heading to the lift so he could have some peace on the rooftop before his shift started.

Jack simply threw a middle finger up behind him as he walked through the doors.

No Man's Land

Jack Abbot x f!Reader

5.1k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || C.W.: mentions of blood, mentions of guns and shootings, mentions of death/dying/coding, CPR, anxiety about partner's safety, Jack's traumatized, reader's traumatized, mentions of dissociation and compartmentalization, poor description of medical events, potentially incorrect medical descriptions/knowledge, very very light smut, angst, age gap kind of implied with Jack but not explicitly referenced, no use of y/n or related, not proofread, no beta, I think that's all but if I missed any please (nicely) let me know.

Summary: This is my Pitt-Fest-But-Not fic. Development of your relationship through vignettes of the past and conversations between Jack, Dana and Robby. There's a shooting where you work. Jack is at the ED when the dispatch comes in and is terrified when he can't get in touch with you.

A.N.: If my Robby reads like John Carter I'm sorry, except that a little bit I'm not. I feel like I'm struggling with my Jack characterization but can't tell if that's just me hating everything I do. This is my take on one of my fave tropes where reader is in mortal danger. I needed a physical location that could be associated with reader and settled on a courthouse, but what it is reader does there is not described. Probably (definitely?) needs a part two. If you get the nickname, thank you, I feel seen. If you don't I explain it at the end. This is absolutely something I would call him, in part to fuck with people who know his real name. I would love to know if you enjoyed and to hear any thoughts you'd like to share.

“He has a girlfriend,” Robby smirks at Dana. 

She blinks at him. “I’m sorry, I thought we’re talking about Jack Abbot.”

“Oh we fucking are.” Robby stifles his smirk and forces his lips to remain closed and as neutral as possible. 

“You’re shitting me.” Dana’s incredulous look breaks Robby a bit and he starts to laugh, tries to turn it into a cough when both he and Dana look up to find Jack staring at them as he takes his snow dusted beanie off. He gives Robby a ‘really?’ look even though he knew Robby would rat him out to Dana the second Robby had dragged it out of him. 

Dana looks back at Robby. “Who? How did they meet?”

Robby holds up his hands. “You now officially know as much as I do about her.” Dana makes a noise of vague discontent but knows Jack well enough to know Robby is telling the truth. That’s all that’s been revealed. 

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

“It’s not worth it,” you whisper. Jack blinks and looks around, unsure if you’re talking to him. He has no idea who you are, has never seen you before in his life but it appears that you are in fact whispering to him in the middle of this bookstore. 

He raises his eyebrows. “It’s not?”

You shake your head, give him an almost conspiratorial smile. “No, he must have gotten a new ghost writer. It’s really bad in comparison to his other stuff. Save your time and money. I’ll give you a summary right now for free if you’re that curious.”

Jack smiles to himself a little bit as he sets the book back on the shelf. There’s something about you, your smile, the way you just randomly spoke to him. He’s drawn to you. An alarm goes off in some part of his brain telling him to ignore it, ignore you, he could get hurt. He pretends to weigh his options as he turns to face you fully. “How about for a cup of coffee?”

Your brows furrow in confusion for a moment. There’s simply no way this unfairly attractive man is asking to buy you a cup of coffee. “The summary?” You clarify. “That I’d give for free. You want it to cost a cup of coffee instead?” You let out a nervous laugh and some part of his heart aches because you’re so adorable. “I just want to make sure I understand before I potentially make an even bigger fool of myself.” 

“Yep.” He can’t help but laugh a little. “You give me the summary over coffee. Actually, you know what? You’re going to have to give me a recommendation too because now I’m going to have nothing to read.” He clicks his tongue at you. 

“Well,” you laugh out, all breathy as you try to pull yourself together. “You drive a hard bargain but I think I’m willing to accept those terms…” you glance at his name badge, “Dr. Abbot.” You give him a full smile and Jack knows then and there he’s totally fucked in the best of ways. 

“Jack.” He smiles at you as you both begin walking towards the café. “Call me Jack.”

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

Everything quiet enough after handoff, Robby walks out with Jack into the morning sun that does little to warm the breeze pulling leaves off the trees. “Any chance you can cover a shift on Saturday night?” Robby is asking, yes, but he knows it’s not really a question, Jack is always willing to work.

“Can’t.” Jack says simply, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.” There’s an expectant silence that hangs between the two as they keep walking.

“Care to elaborate?” Robby finally asks.

“No.” Jack turns and smirks at him. “It’s none of your and Dana’s business.”

“Ha!” Robby laughs. “So it’s her, it’s about her! The ever elusive girlfriend. Will we ever get to meet her? Or does she not want to meet us? Is she real?” Jack stops walking and gives Robby one of his looks. “Holy shit, is it someone here?”

Jack snorts at that. “No it’s not someone here. She’s not even in the medical field.” He sighs, half longing and half resignation of some kind. “She’s honestly dying to meet you guys, especially you and Dana, but I’m trying to protect her from this hellhole. It’s hard with schedules too, to find a time.”

“That’s such fucking bullshit,” Robby laughs. “Are you afraid to truly commit? Think bringing her here will make it too real?” 

It’s a valid question but one that Jack nevertheless resents. “No, actually, if you must fucking know Saturday is our one year anniversary. We have plans. So you’ll have to find someone else to cover. But I’ll bring her around soon,” he laughs through his nose to himself at your stubbornness, “if I don’t she’s liable to just show up one of-”

“A year?” Robby laughs, incredulous. “A fucking year? How the hell did you hide it for three months before I dragged it out of you?”

Jack ignores him. “Also, I’m moving to days. It’s better for us.” He’s so nonchalant about it, just states it like he’s saying the sky is blue, like it’s not going to make Robby’s eyes widen and mouth drop open like it does.

“I don’t,” Robby huffs a laugh, “I don’t even know where to fucking begin.”

“Then don’t.” Jack smirks, starts to walk again while Robby stays frozen, running a hand through his hair. “Go do some actual work.”

“I thought you found comfort in the darkness?” Robby yells after him. 

Jack slows and turns around but keeps walking backwards, one hand holding the strap of his backpack to keep it over his shoulder. He glances down at his phone and the photo of you that is now his wallpaper. He smiles to himself a little, yells back. “Guess I find it somewhere else now.”

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

You giggle, honest to god giggle and Jack could lose his damn mind as he nibbles at your collarbone. “You know if my anatomy class had been this fun, I might have become a doctor too.” 

You’re laying on your back in bed as Jack kisses your sweat slicked skin all over as you both come down from your last round. He’s taken to 'teaching you anatomy' like this, identifying different parts of the human body with his mouth.

“Hmm,” Jack hums against you. “I’m glad it wasn’t then. Fuck doctors.” He starts to kiss down your chest. 

“That has become quite the favorite pastime of mine, yes,” you smirk. “Fucking one specific doctor, actually.” 

“Getting fucked by one specific doctor more like it,” he murmurs into your sternum. He kisses laterally, lips hitting your breast and moving towards your nipple. 

“I think we’ve established what those are,” you moan softly as he takes your nipple into his mouth. You let your hands run through his salt and pepper curls that you adore so much. 

“Can never be too thorough.” You giggle at him again and can feel him smile against you. “But fine, you want something new?” You nod, let your nails scratch gently at his scalp. 

“Nipple,” he kisses your nipple and then down your torso to right above your belly button, “to navel is no man’s land.” He continues to lavish kisses on the soft skin of your stomach before looking up at you when you don’t respond. 

“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not.” You eye him with mock suspicion. 

He laughs and it’s your favorite sound in the whole world, you swear. Well maybe second, only behind hearing him tell you that he loves you. 

“I’m not. Nipple to navel is no man’s land. It’s a real thing. It’s one of the worst places to get shot or stabbed because there’s so many organs that could be hit and the place we’d expect to get hit would depend on whether the person was breathing in or out at the time, whether their lungs were inflated or deflated. And we generally have no way of knowing. It can be difficult to get clear imaging.” He starts kissing lower, down below your belly button, rubbing his stubble along your skin to tease you as he gets lower and lower. “It’s never a good time. Lots of poor outcomes.”

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

It’s supposed to be his day off and yet Jack finds himself staring at the board and running a hand over his face. “It’s still so fucking weird seeing you here during the day and it not meaning something catastrophic has happened.” 

Jack turns to look at Dana. “I’ve been working days for a month now and it’s my day off.”

“You can go, we’re fine for now,” Robby nods at Jack. “Thanks for the brief assistance brother.”

“No, no,” Dana interjects, “he’s not allowed to leave until we nail down a time to meet his girl.” 

Robby raises his eyebrows and starts to tilt his head and open his mouth to agree with Dana. A dispatch comes through before anyone can say anything else and Dana grabs it, pinning Jack down with her eyes, daring him to leave before discussing meeting you. 

“Saved by the bell,” Jack huffs, taking his stethoscope off and starting to walk away. 

“Shooting at a courthouse,” Dana relays to Robby, “not a mass cas, just a few people, two a little iffy, one they’re already doing CPR on, a few caught in the race to get out. Two dead on the scene.”

It takes a few seconds for Dana’s words to truly register with Jack, but when they do his hearing fades to only a sharp ringing in his ear. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fucking happening to him again. He’d been so reticent at the beginning of your relationship, waited so long to give in and define it and hand his heart over to you, terrified he’d lose you because of himself and who he was, his imperfections, his past, his trauma, his PTSD, his baggage, as he thought of it. He feels so stupid now, in the moment, not having worried about how he could lose you from a random act of violence, that in the moments he can’t be there to protect you somebody could come in and rip you from him. Just like that. With the pull of a trigger. 

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

“You know, I can confidently say this is the most unique date I’ve ever been on,” you tease Jack. 

“Hey,” he pants, “me teaching you CPR is a great date.” 

“It would be better if you took your shirt off,” you whisper and wink at him before letting your eyes linger on his arm. 

“If I did that you’d be so distracted you’d learn nothing,” he smirks at you, sweat glistening on his skin just a little. Just enough to drive you nearly feral for him. 

 “I think I’ve got the compressions part down, but I may need more help learning the mouth to mouth part.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You fucking love it,” you shoot back at him, leaning into his space and bumping him with your shoulder. 

He can’t help but kiss you. “Yes,” the word is muffled against your lips, “yes I do.” He gives you a firmer kiss this time before he pulls away. “But really. You should know how to do it, just in case. It will help you feel in control in the moment if the need for it ever arises. You’ll know what to do.”

You bite your lip and smile at him. 

“What?” He eyes you with suspicion. 

You shrug. “Nothing, I just love you so much. Sometimes it overwhelms me, how much I love you.”

He can see it in your eyes, how much you love him, can almost feel it physically squeezing him like a tight hug. He’s really not sure what he ever did to deserve you or your love. “I love you too, Doll.”

“I love you more, Peter.” Your face pulls up into that usual self-satisfied and silly grin you get sometimes when you call him that nickname. It’s a recent thing. You’re calling him it more and more though, it’s becoming a natural way of referring to him. From anyone else he would hate it, hearing it between another couple would make him roll his eyes. But from you? He loves it more than you’ll ever truly know. 

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

Jack spins around.

“Jack you can still go, we’ve got it covered.” Robby looks at Jack for a minute and then meets Dana’s eyes as she looks to him after taking her own look at Jack. 

“What courthouse?” Jack asks. It’s quiet, controlled and clipped and almost missable in the chaos of the ED. He’s not looking at either of them, staring past them at a wall with a chest heaving more and more by the second as his face grows paler. 

He tries to keep it together. Dana will say the name and it won’t be your courthouse and he’ll go straight to your actual courthouse, grab you, take you home and never let you leave. A perfectly reasonable reaction, he thinks.

“Jack-”

“What fucking courthouse?” It’s louder this time, almost enough to pause the chaos of the ED. 

Jack’s voice drips with what sounds like rage to most of those who hear him but is unmistakably fear to Dana and Robby. 

Neither of them have ever seen Jack like this, this scared, struggling this hard to keep it together, truly raising his voice for anything other than to quiet down an unruly patient. His eyes find Dana’s and they’re glassier than she’s ever seen them, the intensity of his gaze making it painfully clear he’s hanging on every word and the wrong ones will shatter him. 

She swallows and opens her mouth and Jack knows what she’s about to say before she even says it. And she does. The name of your courthouse. 

“I’ll triage.” He says it before Dana has even finished, the words hollow and breathless and commanding all at once. He spins and starts off to the bay doors with nothing more. He obviously knows from the report Dana gave that they won’t need triage. He just needed to get out of there and try to create an excuse to stay in the ambulance bay. He knows Robby won’t let him, that Robby and Dana already know you’re at that courthouse, could be a victim. 

Robby and Dana share another look, So you work at a courthouse. This courthouse. “Fuck,” Dana mutters, “I really hope we don’t end up meeting her today.”

Jack’s hand dives in his pocket as he strides to the ambulance bay. He already knows in his heart that there’s not going to be a text from you saying that you’re okay. He hasn’t felt his phone buzz. He never even kept his phone on him until you. 

Even though he knew he wouldn’t have any messages, waking his phone and seeing none hits him like a freight train all the same, right in the chest. It threatens to bring him to his knees, make him sick, but he can’t. He sets it all aside. If you do come out of one of the ambulances he can hear in the distance you’re going to need him at his best. But what if you’re one of the two people dead at the scene? He has to shove that out of his mind too, can’t give into the complete panic that threatens to consume him. 

Disassociate. Compartmentalize. Do the job. ABC. Assess. Stabilize. Repeat.

His fingers fly across his phone automatically, calling you having become so routine. He prefers it so much to texting, hearing your voice, communicating more directly. “Call me,” he starts, “the second you get this message. Or fucking text me,” his voice breaks, “please. Fucking please.” He hangs up and calls again, knowing he’ll get your voicemail again but trying anyway because it’s all he can do. 

He’s helpless, powerless, he can’t do anything to try and save you and that threatens to swallow him whole. 

Your voicemail recording telling people to leave a message plays again and all Jack can wonder is if this is all he’ll have left of your voice in his life. Your voice on your mailbox, maybe some voicemails you’ve left him, videos, voice memos you’ve sent. All distorted by recording, not your real voice. He can’t remember what your real voice sounds like all of the sudden. What your laugh sounds like, how you sound when you’re sleepy or in the throes of pleasure or telling him you love him. God, did he even tell you he loved you the last time he saw you, when he said goodbye? 

“I need you to call me,” he says into the phone again, pauses. “I love you.” He takes a ragged breath in and speaks through his teeth. “I love you so fucking much, so you have to be okay and you have to fucking call me.”

He sends a series of texts asking you to call him or text him or call the hospital or do anything to let him know you’re okay, asking if you are okay, asking where you are as though you’re going to respond. He already knows you’re in the back of one of those ambulances because of fucking course you are, because he’s not allowed to have anything good in his life apparently. How could he be so stupid to think differently?  

“Hey, we don’t need triage for this. The numbers are controlled.” Robby walks out to stand next to Jack in the ambulance bay. “If you want to stay you can, but you can’t wait out here to see who shows up, you have to-”

“Yeah, yeah, jump on the first patient that pulls up, I know, I got it,” he interrupts Robby. 

There’s a silence as Robby passes him a gown and ties for him before he does the same for Robby. 

“Jack, if she’s in one you cannot-”

“Like fuck I can’t.” It’s just a statement. Cool and collected and a projection of indifference. It scares Robby more than if Jack had yelled. 

“No, actually brother, you can’t. I’m telling you right now. You’re not working on her. We don’t work on family, on significant others, and you would tell me the exact same thing. It’s too risky, you’ll be too clouded.” Robby watches Jack’s jaw clench and roll as he stares out at the street. 

He wants to argue that of course he’ll be clear, he’ll be focusing on saving you, he’ll have never been so clear in his life. But part of him knows that seeing you like that on his trauma table, your blood all over the table and him and his hands might make him freeze.

“Fine.” Jack whispers. “But if she’s,” Jack has to pause and take a shuddery breath. “If she’s gone or really going and it’s inevitable you have to let me in. You have to let me try to save her. You have to let me code her, Michael.”

He can taste the rising bile in his throat just at having to talk about coding you.

The first ambulance pulls up before Robby can respond and Jack’s on it so fast Robby’s surprised Jack doesn’t get smacked in the face by the door opening. 

It’s not you. It’s someone who is very much not you and is clearly one of the iffy ones. 

Disassociate. Compartmentalize. Do the job. ABC. Assess. Stabilize. Repeat.

Jack forces himself to go emotionally numb as he listens to the paramedic rattle off vitals and history, trying so very hard to focus on this, something he can do, even if it’s not for you. By the time they hit trauma one Jack’s fine and in full swing, running it like he would any other trauma. Nobody on the team in the room with him suspects anything is amiss.  

He hates the way he can’t see the other’s who come in, that he has to stay with this patient until they’re stable and can’t go looking for you. He chastises himself for not having brought you here before or at least having you meet Dana and Robby. They don’t even know what you look like, couldn’t identify you.

“Jack!” He glances at Dana who stands at the door as he preps for the chest tube. “What’s her name?”

He yells your name at her, impassive and stoic as he reaches for the scalpel, ignoring the looks everyone throws each other at the slightest tremor in his voice.

“I’ll look for her.” Dana promises. He doesn’t respond. He can’t. He’ll fall apart. 

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

The restaurant you’re at has to be the fanciest place you’ve ever been to. It’s the hottest place in the city and you have no idea how Jack snagged reservations here for dinner to finish out celebrating your one year anniversary. 

The lighting and low hum of other patrons talking to each other and glasses and silverware and plates tinkling is cinematic. You feel like the main character. But then that’s always how Jack makes you feel. 

“I got you something.” He pulls out a wrapped rectangular object. 

You click your tongue and tsk at him. “We said we’d do them at home! I didn’t bring yours!”

“I know. I have something for you at home too.” His eyes sparkle in the flickering candle light, a little smirk pulling up. “I didn’t mean for it to be a double entendre, but both are true.” You snort a laugh at him and take the gift from him. “Open it.” He’s still smiling, eyes still sparkling,  but there’s something there. He’s nervous. It makes you even more curious. 

You carefully unwrap the object until it reveals itself as a hardcover book. That same one Jack had in his hand a year ago and that you told him was bad and gave him a summary of over coffee. 

“Oh, Jack,” you say softly, eyes getting a little watery. It’s so perfect. So sweet and sentimental. The book that brought you together, that gave you each other. It’s almost like a physical representation of the foundation of your relationship in a way. 

“You have to open it,” he instructs you in a whisper.

You raise an eyebrow but do as he says. 

‘Move in with me?’ is written on the blank first page. 

You look between the page and Jack. “Is this?” You look back at the page and then up at him again. “Are you really asking…?”

He nods. “Move in with me. Or move somewhere with me, we can get our own place, it doesn’t have to be my apartment. We basically live together anyway at this point. Let’s just make it official, yeah? Wherever you want, you can decorate however you want. Just as long as it’s our place.”

You bring a hand to your mouth for a second before using your napkin to dab at the inner corners of your eyes to stop the tears from falling and look back at him. 

“You’re a romantic, Jack Abbot,” you hum all dreamily. 

“You better not tell anyone. Can’t have you ruining my street cred.” He smirks, but his expression and the way he fidgets show he’s still anxious. “So?”

You realize then you never actually answered him. Sniffling a little laugh and letting a few tears fall you give him his answer, voice thick and full of emotion. “Yeah, I think I’m willing to accept those terms. I’d love to move in with you… Peter.”

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

He hears you counting to yourself before he sees you. “One, two…”

It’s not loud, just said in a normal voice, softer if anything because of how you’re panting, but Jack is so on edge and so desperate to find you he’d subconsciously been listening closely to his surroundings, military training kicking in. His head snaps to you and he doesn’t even know what to think when he sees you being rolled in on top of a gurney, performing CPR that would rival the quality of his own. 

“Why is she..?” He hears Robby question the paramedic as you roll in. 

“She was performing them just as well as we could and it was better to just scoop and run,” the paramedic explains. “She must have had one hell of an instructor.”

“Peter!” You yell, without looking up, not sure if he’s still here. You’re so used to it by now that the nickname is just what comes out of your mouth as you look for him. He’d texted you to let you know he was going in for a bit.  

Jack could sob and the entire team in the room with him can feel a crushing tension shatter. Maybe he does get a little teary just from the sheer relief. He tells himself it’s sweat in his eyes.

“Yeah Doll?” He yells back, not giving a fuck about everyone hearing him call you Doll, and you calling him Peter, knowing full well he’s going to have so much explaining to do about this entire situation, the confusion in the room palpable. 

“I’m okay!” This time he does laugh to himself. 

“Yeah I’d say so,” he mutters, smiling. He’s still anxious to see you, get his own eyes on you, feel you with his own hands. 

It’s only about thirty more seconds before his patient is stable enough and he can rip his gloves and gown off and start putting fresh gloves on as he walks into the trauma room you’d been wheeled into. Normally he’d yell out for someone to talk to him or ask what they’ve got but not this time. This time he doesn’t even care about who’s on the table, only the person who came off it. Only you. 

You’re standing to the side now, watching Robby and the rest of the team work, impassive as pink tears stream down your face from the dried blood on it. You’re just so fucking overwhelmed by everything and now that you’re not doing CPR everything that’s happened is hitting you at once. 

Jack says your name as he moves to you, needs his hands on you. 

“Are you hurt? Were you hit?” He rushes out. His voice brings you back and you look up at him with wide, terrified eyes. He goes to look you over but you latch onto him, hugging him tightly, shaking a bit. 

“I’m fine, I’m okay, I’m, I’m sorry,” you start to rattle off, fisting at his scrub top and clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. In the moment he might just be. 

He hugs you back just as hard, kisses the top of your head. He doesn’t care who sees right now, all he cares about is you. “It’s okay, you have nothing to apologize for. I’m just so fucking glad you’re okay. I thought… I thought you were…” He doesn’t have to finish, you know what he means. “I can’t fucking lose you. I love you way the fuck too much.”

You’ve been so wrapped up in each other neither of you have noticed that Robby’s patient, the one you were doing CPR on, has started to code again. “Abbot, need you here!”

You let him go, nod at him. “Go on,” you whisper, “I’ll be right here. I’m okay. I love you more.” Jack nods at you and walks over, jumping in and assisting Robby.

It’s once you’re out of Jack’s arms, away from his warm body and more grounded in reality that you notice how cold you are, how you’re swaying because he was supporting you far more than you realized, how lightheaded you are, how your abdomen and chest really fucking hurt. You chalk it up to the adrenaline wearing off and being sore from the chest compressions you just did. 

On the other side of the room an instrument tray gets knocked over, metal hitting the floor in a loud clang. It startles you, makes you jump and twist quickly to see what it was, if it was another gun, another shot. You feel something almost tearing, a sharp pain across your abdomen and lower chest, a feeling of sticky warmth against your shirt.

You sway a little, start to realize how much worse the pain is now. It’s bad enough that you can’t even make noise to express the pain. There’s no air in your lungs, you swear. You realize your lightheadedness is now much, much worse, that you’re shivering from how cold you are. Or are you just shaking? You can’t tell. It doesn’t make sense. The room isn’t even that cold. You shouldn’t be so cold. Not unless.

You pull your shirt up slowly and look down and run your hand over your skin and sure enough, there’s a bullet hole seeping blood, about half way between your nipple line and belly button, skin now covered in a dark bruise. 

You cough a little, it’s quiet. It starts feeling like there’s water in your lungs. Like you can’t get any oxygen in even though you’re in a room full of it. The metallic taste in your mouth is what manages to seep into what’s left of your consciousness next. You cough again, into your hand, and feel something wet hit your skin. Blood. 

It hits you. You’re drowning in your own blood. That’s why it feels like you can’t breathe. You’ve been shot. In a bad place, one of the worst places, Jack had told you that night. You get scared, feel your heart pounding. It feels like you’re dying. You don’t want to die, don’t want to leave Jack. You’d just finished moving into your new place together, were going to spend all weekend unpacking and painting and getting furniture where you wanted it. You were going to make your home.

Time. You were supposed to have more time together.

“Hey, Jack,” you slur softly, struggling to keep yourself standing. Luckily he hears you. Your use of his first name and the slur to your voice has him panicking again already. Time slows as he turns around to take you in, eyes going from your face and the blood coating your teeth and trickling from your mouth as you try and smile reassuringly at him, down to your torso where you’re still holding your shirt up just enough for him and everyone else in the room to see the bullet hole and bruising marring your skin. “I think, I think I’m not good, it’s not good.” Your vision tunnels so fast you can just barely see Jack’s expression of sheer abject unadulterated horror and panic as you get out your last words. “Nipples to navel… no man’s land.”

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

Peter. Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter. Yes, I worked in a bookstore through college.

idiots doctors in love

dr. michael robinavitch x resident f!reader

smut. oblivious reader. down bad robby. jazz obssessions. UNEDITED

based on the vibe of the music robby was listening to in ep1 and 15, i headcanon he's a jazz man. SORRY NOT SORRY.

"what do you mean you can't go?"

you frown at dr. mohan, your pain-in-the-ass best R3 friend who is currently breaking your heart. "you're telling me you'd rather stay here than go out?" you gesture to the ER, workers fluttering around as day shift turn to night. out of the corner of your eye you catch a head of almost-silver hair and smirk. "so that's why you want to stay?" she finds the man in your line of sight and immediately shakes her head. samira unclips her clip, shakes her head, and reclips it -- something she never does in the ER. it's a sure sign of her crush on dr. abbot, even if she won't admit it.

"it's not even a crazy club, samira." you hook your arm through hers and drag her away from the board, which she was scanning with a single-minded ferocity. "it's r&b night at this new jazz club. we can sit and still have fun! you don't even need to wear heels." she's already dragging you back to the board and shaking her head. "i came in late today. i need to finish my 12 hours." by late, she means the two hours she spent throwing up from food poisoning. even robby told her she could go home and here she is, staying. "fine. but you better text me, i expect you to leave here by 9pm sharp. no more than what you were supposed to work." you squeeze her arm and only let go when she smiles at you. what a liar. you know she'll work way into the night. "sure thing, mom. i'll text you what i eat and when i go to bed, too." she shoots back, smiling. you nudge her side before locating your water bottle and gathering yourself, mentally, to leave the chart board. "i expect nothing less. see you sunday!"

when you turn, your water bottle smacks into your attending.

"shit, i'm sorry." you look up and there he is, crow's feet crinkling as he smiles. rounded black eyeglasses compliment the black ipad he holds, likely updating someone's chart before you whacked his hand with your sturdy bottle. "what's that thing made of?" he lowers his head like he's examining the pink steel of your bottle, and it's hard not to feel giddy under his full attention. stupid, stupid crush.

"confidential weapon materials. it's indestructible." you grin as he shakes his head, clearly done with your antics. "get out of here, doctor. there's only room for so many dad jokes." you roll your eyes, untwisting the cap of your water bottle and drinking just so you can have a few more seconds with him before you really go. today was one of those days where you still feel human when you leave work -- no soul-crushing experiences. you're sure one will come on your sunday shift, but the rest of friday night and all of saturday scream freedom to you. a drop of water escapes your mouth and trails down from the corner of your lips to your chin. a lack of control, something you usually have in spades, but never around robby. how embarrassing, not being able to drink water with more etiquette than a child-

a warm finger brushes the skin of your chin, wiping away the droplet.

you lock eyes. his are brown and a little out of it, his nose flaring and immediately condensing when he retracts his hand. he tucks it in his cargo pants and it's like you've imagined the whole thing.

must be ER-induced delirium.

"any weekend plans, robby?" absolute insane, to ask that question after you just displayed your lack-of-drinking skills. fortunately, all robby does is shake his head. his veiny hand swipes his glasses off his face and tucks them in the front chest pocket of his scrubs. unfortunately, the fluidity of it does a lot for you. must be the competency? "don't call me old, but the record store i like is having a sale on all their duke ellington records tomorrow. might stop by, pretend i have a life." he laughs in that self-deprecating way of his, like he's embarrassed to admit he's human and not just an attending.

your heart melts.

"i love jazz." you murmur, a little self-consciously, as you set your eyes on his stethoscope instead of his face. "i know." you pick your head up immediately, brows furrowed. when did you tell him that? "i mean, i heard you talking to dr. mohan." he clarifies. you nod, a kernel of joy growing when you realize he was eavesdropping. maybe this obsession is more than one-sided. maybe.

"you goin' to that thing you mentioned?" he asks, rolling his shoulders back and looking away before looking back at you. "maybe. samira, i mean, dr. mohan can't go, so i might see if my roommate wants to go. she's really into rock though, like die-hard metal fan, so i'm not too sure if she'll want to..." you trail off, a bit saddened. you do want to go, and if it was daytime you would, it's just being alone at night in the city can still be scary. especially after a long shift, even if your sober. your senses are dulled, worn out from all-day usage. the idea of a long bath and playing a favorite playlist sounds equally appealing and way less work.

"i'm free."

you gape at him, then quickly recover before he can notice how wide open your mouth is. "really?" he looks shocked at himself for even offering, so all he does at first is nod. robby looks off-kilter, far from the confident attending you've spent your last two years with. "you don't have anyone- i mean, any plans tonight? i don't want to take up too much of your time, it starts at 8:30 and it'll probably be at least an hour, maybe two." he barks out a laugh, swiping a hand down his face before answering. "no one's waiting on me. plus, i'm not that old, doctor. my bedtime is 12 anyway." he winks, recovered from whatever shock he was experiencing. you laugh, covering it with your hand before it becomes a full-force giggle. he's not even that funny, but he's just so endearing with those soulful brown eyes and terrible humor and warmth. on hour 12 of your shift, you simply can't take it.

"let me talk to dr. abbot and then i can walk out with you. it's kind of a speakesy so there's this password and this back door and," you realize you're waving your hands around, priming him for another water bottle attack and quickly fix them to your sides, "and, i'll be right back. don't take another case or i'll go without you." his eyebrows crinkle a little at your mention of dr. abbot but you write it off as tiredness. he nods his affirmation and you bolt through the ER, desperate to finally get out of here.

"dr. abbot!" thankfully he's charting and not gut-deep in a poor patient. he looks up and nods you over, clearly expecting an interesting case. "i need you to do me a favor. dr. mohan is abandoning our jazz club plans to work her full shift and i need you to promise me she leaves here by 9pm. she already had food poisoning this morning, she does not need to work longer than necessary." he's smiling by the end of your demand, clearly amused than angry you're making demands. "you'll make a perfect chief resident, doctor. she won't be here past 9 or i'll walk her out myself." that's what you're hoping for, but you don't interrupt. "sorry about your plans." he adds. you shrug, rocking back on your feet as you try not to give away your excitement. "it's okay. robby's coming, of all people."

an odd thing happens to the attending you thought was un-flusterable. he looks past your shoulder, clearly searching for robby, before quickly pulling back to look you up and down. his mouth opens slightly, then closes shut immediately. "fucking finally." he mutters under his breath, underestimating how good your hearing is. "sorry?" you ask, a little off guard. he shakes his head, resetting. "nothing. have a good night, doctor. have fun." when has he ever told you to have fun? you nod, extremely confused with whatever oddness has affected the Pitt attendings. you wish him a goodnight and beeline back to Robby, who's trying not to involve himself in two GSW's that burst through the doors.

it's intimate, walking out with him. he hold's the door for you but with his hand up high, making you almost duck under it to exit. you talk all the way to the parking lot, only realizing he doesn't even drive when you arrive at your car. you explain how to get into the club, the password being "April 29th" for the NYC Duke Ellington Day in 2009. he takes all of it in stride, nodding precisely at the right points like he's actually listening. "you need a ride home?" you offer, hoping he says no. this past hour has been too much of a whirlwind and you need a moment to contemplate, but the people pleaser in you demands hospitality. thankfully, he shakes his head. "i like walking home. not too far and clears the head." you nod, completely understanding. usually when you drive home, you keep the windows down and the music low to clear your head. unsurprisingly, it's jazz or more modern r&b that clears your head.

"i'll see you there, then. text me if something comes up or you'll be late." you tack on, trying not to seem desperate. not to seem like this is a date, of course, which it is not. he's just being friendly, eavesdropping on your personal conversations and connecting over hobbies and offering his time outside of work when he could be, for one, sleeping. "i'll see you at 8:30, doctor."

-

you splurge for a cab, figuring the moment allows for it. plus, your feet ache from hours on your feet and the kitten heels you're wearing don't exactly help. after paying the fee, you step out onto the sidewalk and smooth out the creases in the dress you chose. it's the original outfit you were going to wear: a little black dress that hits above the knee paired with black heels that have bows on them, a small purse around your shoulder. except, you did your makeup instead of going bare face how you planned. it's armor to face multiple hours with the man you've been crushing on for months. sure, you've shared beer in parks and much-needed coffee on the roof, but nothing outside of the confines of work. nothing like how he looks now, waving at you awkwardly as he walks down the street in dark pants and a button-down paired with a jacket to stave off the chill. it shocks you for a second -- the first time you've seen him out of his scrubs. he comes to stand in front of you and beams a little, his cheeks pulling up. he's more relaxed without the weight of the ER on him and you yearn to see him like this a thousand times more.

"hi."

"hi."

you stare for a second before reminding yourself that you are not a teenager and can have adult conversations. except this is your boss, a fact you keep forgetting. "i honestly imagined you showing up in scrubs." you tease, gesturing at him to follow as you make your way to the entrance. he chuckles, a low tone that hits like a shower after a long shift, needed and soothing. "i like your dress, too, doctor." he replies. your skin heats at his compliment, glad you're not facing his direction. you wander through side hallway that accompanies that front of the restaurant, pausing a little before a door. before you approach, you turn to him. "you don't have to call me, robby." you remind him, tilting your head a little. he takes the moment to scan the length of your dress, the sheer tights that feed into your heels before landing back on your face and saying your name. your first name.

it's the first time he's said it, you think. like a shock of epi to the veins, waking you up. his eyes darken and it must be a trick of the light, but you see his pupils expand. you grin shyly before turning and approaching the door. a gold-embossed slit in the door slides open and a pair of blue eyes blink at you. "password?" there's a sudden presence behind you as robby hovers, a touch away from your back. not the closest he's ever stood but you feel practically naked without your scrubs, like he's seeing your bare skin. "april 29th." you supply, clearing your throat as you remind yourself he's just being courteous.

the door swings open and you stifle a gasp. it's all mahagony wood and low lights, candles on every table with velvet-covered chairs and clinking bar glasses. an acoustic version of a leon bridges song as you make your way inside, robby only a step behind you. "isn't it pretty?" you turn your face up and there he is, staring down at you. "very pretty." he refers to the room but his eyes stay on you, warm pools of chocolate in the lamplight. you find a table far enough away from the band where you can talk, even though your tongue is currently tied. robby murmurs something about getting drinks and you sit gladly, your feet straining from being put through even more walking. you set your purse on the table and close your eyes, letting your body finally relax as you take in the music. your head sways a little, the rhythm soothing you after another long but worth-it day in medicine.

"i wasn't sure what you wanted, so i got the specialty drink they were serving." he sets down what looks like a fancy dirty shirley with edible gold glitter swirling around. it catches the light and reminds you of the gold flecks in robby's eyes, illuminated by the candles. he sits down in the chair next to you, the table small enough for your knees to brush as you both face the stage. neither of you pull away.

"they must have upcharged an extra $10 for the glitter." you take a sip and close your eyes, loving the fruitiness. a look left reveals his own drink, dark liquid in a glass tumbler. "part of the experience." he shrugs, nudging you with his knee. "plus, i know mohan wouldn't comp your drinks like i will." you giggle at that, keeping it at a low volume as the band continues. you take another sip for courage before putting the glass back down. "thank you, robby. for the drink and for coming." he takes a sip of his drink and sets it down. the table must be too small or his eyes really that bad, because he sets it so close to you that your knuckles brush. these accidental touches keep sending ill-advised sparks to your core, making you shift in your spot and press your thighs together.

when you gather the courage to look in his eyes, they seem to be on your thighs. a trick of the light, as they flick up and catch yours, no apology on his lips. "i wanted to-"

"hello everyone!" the saxophone player has the mic, greeting everyone with a bright smile. "thank you for coming to our little gathering tonight. it'll be a mix of jazz, r&b, and anything that sits right in the soul. we've got our singer coming on in about an hour but for now, enjoy the music." the bassist plucks a few strings and they start, launching into a louis armstrong song.

it's something close to peace that you feel. taking in the music silently, robby closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair. making small talk occasionally, learning more about him than you ever knew. how he used to live in chicago, how he's the older sibling of a much younger brother and sister off doing Great Things. you tell him about your favorite bagel spot that you stop by when you have the time and how sometimes, you think your roommate might hate you and not actually tolerate your late-night taco cravings. it's addicting, every smile he gives you, each one more endearing than the one before it. you like that he barely drinks, only sipping after a long conversation. you want to remember this, so you let your drink slowly lessen but don't ask for a second.

his knee stays against yours the whole time, a tender anchor to the moment.

after an hour, the singer graces the stage. her voice is raspy and low, perfect for the songs she picks. "these next few are perfect slow songs, in my opinion. and would you look at that, we've got some empty room on the dance floor." she launches into an etta james song about sundays and you can't help but gather your courage. "dance with me? if your feet aren't too tired, of course." you add, suddenly worried you over stepped. he shakes his head, stepping out of his seat and gesturing you forward. when you look back, you watch robby tuck your purse under his coat and your heart aches. just a little.

at first, you feel like a kid at her first dance. there's too much space between you, his hand so high on your back that it almost reaches your neck. it's hard to move together this far apart, so you take a deep breath and step closer. "this okay?" you whisper, face inches from his. he nods a little sharply, but steps closer until your cheek is flush to his chest. "it's perfect." you smile to yourself and lose yourself to the music.

as more people join the dance floor, robby pulls you snug to his chest. "having fun?" he asks, lips grazing your ear. his hand slides lower, still on the small of your back. it's the most you've ever touched him, felt the woodsy scent of his cologne and the hardness of his torso. "yeah." you mumble, drunk on the music and his presence. he seems to understand, tucking your head under his chin as you sway, his other hand tightening in yours as you grip his shoulder lightly. the singer croons about love and loss and you feel it, right under you.

after a few more songs, the band takes a break. when you pull back from robby, something has changed. he has to have felt this pull in your chest, the one tethered to your heart strings. "take a break with me?" you nod to the quiet hallway that leads to the bathrooms, perfect for a break from the crowd. he follows you loyally, hand hovering at your back as you walk down the hall. voices fall away until it's just you two in some alcove between the bar and the bathroom.

he puts his hands in his pockets and leans against the wall. you take a deep breath and one step forward.

"robby."

his eyes squint when you don't follow with a question and widen when he realizes what you're asking, or not asking.

robby swipes a hand down his face before it falls to his side, tapping the top of his thigh. "we can't." he reasons. your toes touch his shoes, shiny ones you didn't even imagine him owning. "says who?" you murmur, standing your ground. both of his hands are at his sides now, flexing and unflexing. if he wasn't wearing long-sleeves, you'd be tracing the veins. "the pittsburg medical board. gloria." he answers, not doing anything to move from where you stand. this time, it's him who straightens, bringing him closer to your heaving chest.

"i'm not going to tell them." you murmur. there's an instant sense of a mistake as he leans back into the wall. "it's not like that for me. it's- i'm not a casual person." the confession is more than you were hoping for, a long-forgotten dream that lay buried in your heart. "it's not like that for me either, robby. i really liked tonight. i want to do it again."

strong, capable hands cup your face. his thumbs swipe under your eyes, probably ruining your makeup, as he tilts you into his eyesight. "you have no fucking idea how long i've waited for this." he confirms, the tips of his fingers brushing your jaw. "really?" you plead, off-kilter from his sudden admission. "since you found me on that roof, still soaked in blood from two child GSW's." a year and a half ago. your heart pounds and you smile.

"can't deny you anything when you look like that." you're not entirely sure what he means -- when you're covered in blood or when you're in this dress? doesn't matter.

"won't you kiss me, then?"

and he does.

robby kisses like a man possessed. his hands on your face stay there, keeping you open even as you gasp into his mouth. it's not sloppy but toes the line as he keeps himself restrained, only allowing his tongue to peek out when you moan in delight. robby leaves little bites and licks with every sound you make, letting you melt into his arms with your arms around his shoulders as you melt.

"i don't want our first time to be tonight. i want to do it right." he demands into the wet heat of your mouth, covering the burn of his words with a solid kiss. you agree but still hitch your leg up around his waist as far as your dress will allow. "these fucking tights." he nips your jaw and you giggle, melding yourself further into him. "c'mere."

you lead him to a one room bathroom, locking the door behind you. instead of the perfectly good countertop, he corners you against the wall, hands sliding up and under your dress. "this okay?" he asks and you whine, pushing your hips further into his grasp. your dress gathers at your waist as he finds the band of your tights digging into your skin. "you gonna let me taste?" you nod, practically begging.

he yanks down your tights and you ignore the sure sound of them ripping, glad they were a sale purchase. "i'll buy you new ones." he promises to your inner thighs, kissing gently upwards. with your demolished tights, you're able to swing one leg over his shoulder as he lowers himself onto his knees. you've been wet all night from his touches and it doesn't surprise you when he has to peel your lace underwear off, slick clinging in strings as he works them to the side.

"so wet for me. i know, baby, i know." he hums as you whine impatiently, moving forward until his words land on your empty cunt. he works you like an expert, splitting your folds open as he licks a stripe up and down. almost all the way down.

robby isn't like the college boys who treated this like a task. he lavishes you with kisses, small sucks to your clit that end when you start bucking. the tip of his tongue teases your hole but doesn't go in, seemlingly leaving it for another time. his nose, that strong nose you always catch yourself admiring, presses against your clit and you jolt from the pleasure of it. you fuck yourself a bit on it, encouraged by his moan that pulses through your core. the friction switches between his nose and his tongue and you can't get enough, that tell-tale pressure building in your lower stomach.

"robby, i'm close." you admit, gasping when he sucks your clit even harder. waves build and tense in your core as you chase the feeling, moving your hips without thought. "c'mon, honey. come." he mumbles, muffled by your thighs. like you do everyday in the ER, you follow his command, moaning as you tense and flutter around him. he guides you through it with sloppy licks until you're pushing him away, overstimulation creeping over your shoulders.

his beard is sopping with your slick, something he doesn't seem to care about as he emerges after fixing your underwear. the tights seem to be a loss. deft fingers guide your feet out and into your heels as he fully frees you of the tights, little brushes to your ankle bone going straight to your heart. it's only after he throws away your tights does he stand, eyes glittering.

you look down at his cock clearly straining against his trousers. when you reach for it, his hand stops you, stroking the soft skin of your wrist. "tonight's not about me." one part of you is disappointed but the other is dreadfully tired, needing rest after all of this excitement. "thank you, robby." you say, unsure of how to feel the silence. his hands grip your waist and he kisses your forehead before he pulls back, thumb swiping over your bitten lips. "call me michael, honey. you want to stay or you done for the night?" you shake your head instantly, exhaustion deep in your bones. "take me home, michael."

-

when you wake in the late morning, he's still in your bed. if he hadn't been, you would have thought last night was a jazz-induced dream. instead, he's murmuring to someone on the phone sternly. your eyes trace his bare chest down to his boxers, the same chest you fell asleep against last night. you lay a hand on his chest and he covers it with his own, seemingly done with his phone call. "who was that?" you ask, too curious to hold back. "HR." he grins. "haven't even asked me out properly and you're already calling HR." you grumble, inching closer until he gathers you in his arms, kissing the top of your nose.

"will you go out with me, doctor?"

-

writing this was a fever dream.

if you haven't seen noah wyle dressed up, i highly encourage you to.

Too Sweet 2/? (RobbyxOFC)

Everly wasn’t sure why Robby was always so grumpy. He certainly didn’t sleep enough, or eat enough, or socialize enough. But none of those things seemed to bother him. Sometimes she would see him run his hand over his face, exhausted with the entire world, and she would frown. 

No one ever saw her frown, except when she looked at Robby. It was only ever when he wasn’t looking, when he was looking at her she was nothing but smiles. But when he wasn’t aware anyone was watching, she would frown, worried that he was sad, that he was lonely. 

On those days, when he was extra sad looking, she would make sure to be brighter than ever. Smiling at him more often, making sure he had some water, his coffee, a homemade muffin she’d stayed up late baking the night before. Robby always took whatever she gave him with a small smile, thanking her gratefully. 

Collins watched the two of them one day, chatting against the wall in the hallway, unknowingly leaning closer to each other as they talked.

“I can’t believe it’s been three months, and they are still circling each other,” she said to Dana, who looked up from her desk, glasses perched on her nose. 

“Told you it would take a while for Robby to get it together enough to ask her out,” Dana replied, having won their bet two months ago when the first month passed with no movement on the romance part. 

“I just really thought she’d break him sooner.”

“I have a lot of faith in that girl, but Robby is made of stone. It’s gonna take a while to chip away at him.,” Dana explained, stepping away to take a phone call. Collins continued to watch Everly and Robby, until Langdon came up to her.

“They hook up yet?” he asked, and Collins shook her head. 

“Nope, still dancing around,” she answered. Langdon gave a groan, and moved on, looking at the board to see what case he wanted next.

Mateo came walking down the hallway, stopping when he saw Everly and Robby.

“Hey Ev, we still on for tonight?”

Robby looked at him, then at Everly, waiting for an explanation.

“Oh, yup, still on! 8pm, unless we get stuck here,” she giggled slightly, and Mateo smiled, before nodding at Robby and continuing on.

“You and Mateo, are…?”

“Oh, Mateo asked if I wanted to go for drinks. It’s not a big thing, but you never know!” Everly smiled up at him, her consistent enthusiasm almost contagious, at least it was to everyone except Robby.

“So you two are going on a date?” he asked again, more clearly. He tried to sound nonchalant, but his need to know the answer crept into his tone of voice.

“No, I mean yeah, technically I guess, yes. But it’s just casual, see how things go, you know,” Everly’s smiled started to falter, but she forced it on. 

“Oh, that’s…good. Well, I think we should get back to work, I think Mr. Smith in Central five is ready for his head CT.” Robby cleared his throat,  crossing his arms over his chest and looking towards Central five.

“Oh, yeah, okay. Mr. Smith, I am on my way!” Everly joked, walking away and towards her patient. Langdon walked up to Robby then.

“Really man? That was just tragic to witness,” Langdon teased.

“What was tragic?”

“You, failing miserably to flirt with Taylor. She was practically begging you with her eyes to flirt with her, to tell her not to go on that date with Mateo, and you totally blew it.”

“That…is none of your business, Frank. If Dr. Taylor wants to go on a date with someone, she is more than welcome to.”

“Yeah, see what I mean? Tragic, you don’t even know how deep you are.”

“Frank, go help someone.” Robby ordered, and Langdon just laughed lightly before heading off. 

Robby spent the rest of the day in a mood, a funk as Dana would call it, and nothing Everly did brought him out of it. She wasn’t sure what caused his sudden mood change; he’d been his normal grumpy all day, this was extra level grumpy. 

Eventually time came to end the shift, and unsurprisingly they had run late. The bar Everly and Mateo were going to was right near the hospital, so he had said he’d meet her there while she got ready. She’d brought her stuff with her just for this reason. 

Pulling off her scrubs left her in a pair of black lacy panties and a matching bra. It had been itching at her all day, but she knew it would be worth it to wear them with her dress. She slipped the black silky number on, contouring perfectly to her body and the bra helped push her meager cleavage up to give the appearance of any at all. 

She finished off the look with a pair of heels and some red lipstick, throwing on a bit of eyeshadow to try and make herself more presentable for a date. Everly was on her way out of the locker room when she ran into Robby, literally. 

“Oof,” she said, almost falling backwards because her balance was off with the heels. Robby quickly grabbed her arms and pulled her back up, unfortunately she was so tiny he pulled her directly into his chest. She peeked up at him to see him looking down at her, rubbing her arms gently. 

“Sorry, Dr. Robby, lost my balance,” Everly explained, and she felt Robby drop her arms like he’d been burned. 

“No worries here, you look…’ Robby took a minute to look her up and down (mostly down, let’s be honest). “Nice. You look very nice.”

Everly couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed, she was going for a little more than nice. “Thank you, Robby. I guess I should go, don’t wanna leave Mateo hanging.” She smiled brightly up at him, and Robby felt his heart flutter. 

“Right, Mateo. Have fun.”

Everly nodded, and quickly headed out of the hospital.

Robby turned around to see Dana, Collins, Langdon, and Mohan watching him from the nurse’s station. 

“What?” he asked. Dana shook her head, Collins and Langdon smirked, and Mohan just looked sad. Robby frowned at them, and went off to help a patient. His mind was focused on Everly, and if she was having fun with Mateo. Maybe she was flirting with him, and he was responding. Maybe she was gonna kiss him, and take him home, and fuck him stupid, and Robby needed to stop that thought train. He ran his hand over his face, scratching his beard lightly, and tried to focus on his job. 

Everly was tipsy, but definitely not drunk, and although she was having a great time with Mateo, he just wasn’t her type. He seemed to be getting the same vibe, and after a couple more drinks he asked if she wanted to call it a night around 10pm. She agreed, and he offered to call her a cab, but she decided to walk. She didn’t live far, so with a kiss on the cheek and a hug, they went their separate ways. 

Everly took off her heels, deciding it was safer to walk barefoot than to try and stumble home. She carried them in her hand, walking quickly to get home. It’d been a long shift, and she needed to be back in for 7am. As she turned a corner onto her street, she felt something smack into the back of head, and she fell forward, dropping her heels. Saving herself by grabbing onto a wall, she went to turn around, when a fist came out of nowhere and punched her in the face. Everly went down, and quickly lost consciousness.

on the line

interconnected standalone/sequel-ish to bitter/sweet and fallout - a Dr. Jack Abbot (The Pitt) fanfic

pairing: Jack Abbot x f!reader

summary: Jack takes a six-week placement across the country. Four specific FaceTime calls—full of banter, longing, and everything unsaid—hold you two together until he comes home.

warnings/tags: grumpy x sunshine, age gap, long-distance relationship, mild language

word count: 5.0k

“What are you wearing?” 

You cracked one eye open, squinting against the soft glow of your bedside lamp. Jack was staring at you through the screen of your phone, propped up on your nightstand. His image was bright against the dim lighting, accenting the sharp set of his jaw and the smirk playing at his lips.

“You know what I’m wearing – we’re on FaceTime,” you mumbled into your pillow, voice thick with sleep. Your limbs felt heavy under the familiar weight of your comforter. “When are you coming back?” 

“You know when I’m coming back,” he echoed, mimicking your tone. “Why’re you asking – miss me?” His voice dropped an octave, teasing, and you saw his eyes flick down your form as you shifted to get more comfortable beneath the covers.

This had been an ongoing game for the last month – every time you talked, one of you tried to get the other to admit they missed them first. Neither of you had cracked. 

Now, that didn’t mean you didn’t miss him. Quite the opposite, actually. 

Jack had been gone for three weeks now, having been offered an intensive placement at UCLA Medical Center. You could still remember how he broke the news—quietly, nonchalantly, like he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it—and how you’d smiled widely and pushed him to take it even as something inside you fought every move.

This is UCLA, you told yourself. He has to take it; it’s an incredible opportunity. How many times does something like this come along?

But knowing it was the right decision didn’t make it easier.

Six weeks. Forty-two days. Nearly fifty sunsets without him. 

After spending almost every day together, the sudden absence had carved out a hollow space in your chest.

The first week, you felt his absence immensely. But you figured, with time, it’d get easier. 

Oh, how wrong you were.

The ache didn’t dull. It sharpened. Everything reminded you of him – how much he’d probably roll his eyes at a joke Eleni told during service, how he’d immediately get to cleaning your apartment if he saw how messy it had gotten, how he’d let you follow him around if he was back at the hospital when you were dropping dinner off for your sister. 

Luckily, technology was on your side. While he was in California, you texted him constantly – mostly one-sided updates on your day, the chaos of the kitchen, the new weird thing your landlord did. He replied in his usual charming fashion: a “K” here, a thumbs-up emoji there.

FaceTime was more his speed. Every night, your phone took up its spot on your nightstand while you curled into bed, half-asleep before he even picked up. He was usually just getting ready for his shift – brushing his teeth, dressing in his scrubs, sometimes sitting in the car with one hand on the wheel. 

“At least it’s regulating my sleep cycle,” you’d joked during one call, watching him frown in that subtle, concerned way he did.

“You love me doing night shifts,” he’d countered. “Said it keeps you on your toes, guessing.”

“Yeah, guessing how much sleep I’m gonna get that night,” you’d teased back, and he’d huffed a small laugh. 

Now here he was, two weeks from coming home, asking you what you were wearing in that low, steady voice of his that always had knots forming in your stomach.

“You already know I’m wearing one of your hundred black tees,” you mumbled, cheek sinking deeper into your pillow. 

“No panties?” he asked, a hint of a smirk at his lips as his eyes gleamed with mischief.

With minimal effort, you peeled back the duvet just enough for him to catch a glimpse of his boxers sitting low on your hips.

“You do miss me,” he grinned triumphantly, a quiet chuckle escaping him. You sighed through a small smile, eyes fluttering shut. His voice, even through the phone, grounded you. “Tell me what you did today.”

You took a moment to think, thoughts clouded by sleep and the warmth of your sheets. “Tried out a new truffle recipe,” you murmured. 

Sure enough, you peeked an eye open just in time to catch his nose wrinkle in disgust. He hated truffles.

The sight made you smile – even 3,000 miles away, Jack was still so Jack.

“Dinner rush was crazy – some show was going on at the theatre down the block so we were packed. Almost ran into one of the sommeliers rushing out of the kitchen. Nicked my finger on the bottle opener he was holding.”

“Let me see,” he said immediately, and you pulled your hand from under the covers and held it up to the camera, watching his eyes narrow. “Did someone at the Pitt take a look?”

“My sister did,” you said, brushing it off. “It’s fine – just a scrape.”

He frowned that familiar, pinched-brow frown.

“You should keep it wrapped,” he muttered. “Could get infected.” 

You mirrored his expression, this time out of something deeper – affection, mingled with longing. “I miss you medically scolding me.” 

Jack paused a beat, then offered softly, “I can still do it over the phone. That’s why they invented FaceTime.” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not true,” you giggled sleepily, burrowing deeper into your sheets. The weight of him not being there settled over you again, dense and unrelenting. 

Silence stretched for a moment before you opened your eyes again. Jack was still looking at you. “What?” you asked, your voice small.

He hesitated. “Nothing… you just look tired.”

But the way he said it—gentle, weighted—made your throat tighten. 

You didn’t just look tired.

You missed him. You missed sleeping better when he was beside you, the steady rhythm of his breathing syncing with yours as your limbs tangled together. You missed the safety, the stillness. Without him, everything felt a little bit off.

Your hand drifted across the sheets, reaching for his side of the bed – cold, untouched. Your fingers curled into the empty space as if you could will it to hold his warmth. That familiar ache bloomed in your chest again, pressing hard against your ribs, forcing you to acknowledge it.

And the way he was looking at you right now—gaze just soft enough for you to see the emotion behind it—it made the distance hard to bear. 

You wanted to ask him to come back early. Just say it. Just tell him.

But you didn’t.

He was doing something important – teaching residents, working alongside brilliant attendings, contributing to something meaningful. You couldn’t ask him to give that up. So you buried it, like always.

Instead, you asked, “Any exciting cases today?” 

Jack blinked at you, then shrugged, his voice returning to that calm, clinical cadence. “Someone said a guy came in with third-degree burns from resting his hand on the grill – didn’t realize his wife had turned it on.” 

You winced, turning your face into the pillow. “Ugh, Jack – that’s gross.” 

He chuckled softly. “Reminds me of an old army buddy who met the wrong end of a crockpot once.” 

You hummed, already drifting. “Tell me about it.” 

You tried to stay awake, but the familiar and comforting tone of his low voice began to lull you to sleep. A few minutes into the story, Jack noticed your breathing had slowed.

You looked so peaceful.

He watched for a while, the silence between you warm and heavy, filled with all the things left unsaid.

Then, in a quiet voice that barely crossed the distance, he whispered a sweet good night to you and ended the call.

Four weeks into the placement, when Jack FaceTimed you and you answered with a deep-set frown and red-rimmed eyes, he could already tell it would be one of those days. 

The hard days. The days one of you missed the other so much, it was impossible to ignore. The days your heart was three thousand miles away, tucked into the go-bag of your favorite ED attending, somewhere in a cramped locker room in Los Angeles. 

“What’s wrong?” he immediately asked, making your frown deepen. 

“Nothing,” you promised, setting the phone down on your nightstand as you began to get ready for bed. The camera angle wobbled as you moved – half of your frame disappearing, your voice muffled by distance and steam escaping from the open bathroom door behind you.

This was unusual. Whenever Jack called at this time, you were already tucked in bed, cozy and glowing, hair a little messy, a smile curling at the corners of your lips the moment you saw him. 

And, you always showered in the mornings – you said showering at night would intervene with how much time you two got to spend on FaceTime. 

Yet, here you were now – hair wet from the shower, curling at the ends as you moved about your room, distracted and quieter than usual. You pulled on a soft t-shirt, then wandered off-screen, brushing your teeth with a kind of mechanical rhythm.

Jack stayed silent, watching.

He could tell something was bothering you. 

Your hands shook as you did your skincare – too much toner on the pad, moisturizer forgotten halfway through.

“How was your day?” Jack asked slowly, treading lightly, trying to gauge how you were actually feeling.

“Fine,” you mumbled, disappearing again. The faucet turned on in the background as you washed your hands, cool water grounding your overheated nerves before you slipped into bed wit a heavy sigh. 

Jack’s voice came again, cautious, “Anything happen?” He tried to sound casual, but you weren’t in the mood for it now.

You glanced at the screen sharply. “Like what?” 

“I don’t know, just… anything good? Or… something bad?” 

Your jaw tensed as you looked past the phone, voice bitter. “A critic came in today.”

“Oh?” 

You laughed humorlessly. “I didn’t even know who she was, and I told her to fuck off.” 

Jack’s brow rose at that. “And why’d you do that?”

“Because she was being an asshole – and I didn’t recognize her and I was rushing and – and I was exhausted. I just snapped and – and it wasn’t even about her. It’s just… I’m tired. I’m so tired of pretending this isn’t hard.”  

Jack paused, his face softening, the weight of your words hanging thickly between you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling like this?” 

You shrugged, unwilling to meet his eyes. “Because it’s not your fault,” you finally said. “And I didn’t want to make it your problem.” 

“You’re not a problem.” 

His voice was quiet, thick with the guilt settling into his stomach.

You immediately noticed the shift in his tone – soft and frayed around the edges.

“I didn’t say it to make you feel guilty,” you said, gaze now locking onto his, unwavering. 

“I know,” he replied, tiredly dragging a hand down his face, like he wanted to crawl through the screen and pull you into his arms.

“I just… I miss you.” 

There it was.

You’d finally said it.

And yet, it didn’t make you feel like you’d lost the game – at least, not in the way you thought. And, it didn’t make Jack feel like he won, either.

“I miss you every day,” you continued. “I miss you so much I don’t know where to put it anymore. It’s just there. Always. Like a weight on my chest. And every day, you – you pick up the phone and I see your face and you’re fine. Smiling… Happy. And, it’s just – just… Don’t you miss me? Like, even a little?” 

The moment you said it, you instantly regretted it. 

Jack could tell – the way your eyes squeezed shut in regret, like you wished you could pull the words right back into your chest. It broke his heart even more than hearing the desperation in your voice. 

He found himself looking away, swallowing hard. Then, finally, quietly, he said, “Of course I miss you. I miss you all the time. I just – I don’t let myself think about it too long. If I do, I can’t focus.” 

You knew he’d never say anything hurtful on purpose but the comment still stung. A sharp pang, like a bruise pressed too hard.

If he missed you so much, how come it felt like you were the only one falling apart? If he missed you so much, why didn’t it seem like he felt it?

Before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out. “Right. Got it. I’m over here crying in the walk-in fridge like a lunatic and you get to compartmentalize.” 

His eyes flinched shut, barely perceptible – but you saw it. Instantly regretted your words. And yet, you didn’t take it back.

And he didn’t push back either.

The silence grew too thick, claustrophobic.

After a beat, you shook your head, voice quieter now. “You’re running late – I should let you go. We can just… I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Your hand reached for the screen, heart already retreating.

“Wait!” Jack’s voice rang out, startling you.

You hesitated, still refusing to meet his eyes, but something in you paused – your ribs tightened at the strain in his voice.

“I think about you all day,” he admitted. “I know I don’t say it enough, but I do. I make a list in my head of all the things to tell you when we finally talk, and then when you pick up and give me that smile, I forget how to say any of it.”

You blinked.

That wasn't what you expected at all.

Still, he kept going. “And I bought you this mug from the UCLA store, in the shape of a smiling sunny face. I keep it in my locker, drink coffee from it before the shift – and all the residents look at me like I’m crazy. But it just… it reminds me of you. Keeps me grounded. Gets me through the shift.

“And your voice notes – I save them all. I listen to one specific one whenever I miss you more than usual – the one where you called me a broody bastard and then basically told me you missed me in the same breath.” 

That cracked something open in your chest. Like air rushing into lungs that had been holding their breath too long.

Soft tears lined your eyes. Not the frustrated kind. The aching, full-hearted kind.

You stared at the screen, heart thudding in your chest, throat thick with emotion. His face was still there – steady, honest, eyes staring back at yours, so full of you. Of all the missing he hadn’t said until now.

He missed you. Of course he missed you. Maybe not in the same noisy, unraveling way you did – but in the quiet, deliberate way only Jack could. Through mugs and voice notes. Through saved recordings and mental lists. Through showing up, every night, even when words failed.

Your lip trembled as a tear ran down your cheek.

“Jack…” you breathed, the apology catching somewhere between a sob and a sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally said, voice low and thick. “I didn’t mean what I said. I just – God – I feel everything right now, and I don’t know if it’s hormones or just the distance or – ” 

That four-letter word was at the tip of your tongue, but it didn’t feel right to tell him over the phone. This deserved to be told in person. He deserved that.

Jack’s face softened, almost imperceptibly, but you caught it – the way his shoulders eased like something fragile in him had finally seemed to settle.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, after a beat, he deadpanned, “It’s both. I checked the app earlier.” 

You stared, stunned. Then, your eyes warmed, the corners crinkling as a small, disbelieving, shaky smile touched your lips. “You track my cycle on your phone?” 

He shrugged, a little too casual. “Ever since the brownies incident – hell yeah.” 

That conversation changed things – in the best way. 

It made both you and Jack more intentional about the time apart. More creative, more present. FaceTimes evolved into something more sacred, more playful. You started doing virtual date nights, much to Jack’s technologically-deficient chagrin.

“I can barely work this FaceCall thing, you want me to do what now?”, to which you’d rolled your eyes and corrected, “FaceTime,” while suppressing a grin.

He’d grumbled, but you caught the way he cleared his evenings anyway – made sure he wasn’t on call any earlier than he needed to be, made sure his dinner (mediocre and suspiciously not homemade) was ready on time. Despite the mismatched time zones, you both made space. You’d end up eating hours apart, but “together” nonetheless. And that was what mattered.

Six days before Jack was set to fly home, you had another one of these date nights. 

The screen flickered to life and there he was – tousled hair you wished you could run your fingers through, half-zipped hoodie you wished you could burrow into, sitting cross-legged on a too-modern couch that definitely didn’t belong to him. He held up a plastic takeout container like it was an offering.

“Dinner, courtesy of the fine culinary skills I’ve learned from you.” 

You raised a brow. “That looks suspiciously like pad Thai.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe I cooked. Maybe the DoorDash guy and I are becoming best friends.”  

You snorted, curling deeper under your blanket as you reached for the remote. “What’d you do yesterday?” 

Jack leaned back with a groan, the kind that said his spine hated him and the previous night had been long. “This guy came in with a ridiculous chest injury. We had to work carefully around the nerve endings in his nipple and – what?” 

He paused mid-sentence, catching the grin spreading across your face.

“Should I be jealous by how excited you just got talking about someone else’s nipples?” you teased.

Jack coughed, nearly choking on his water. “Jesus. It was a very complicated procedure. We had to be extremely precise.” 

“Oh, I’m sure his nipples were deeply moved by your devotion,” you grinned.

“You’re insufferable.” 

“And you miss it.” 

“Unfortunately,” he deadpanned, mouth twitching.

You smiled, feeling that familiar warmth settle into your chest. God, you missed his face. You missed his voice, his sarcasm, the way he looked at you like you hung up the moon. 

You squinted at the screen. “Is it just me or are you getting a tan?” 

Jack glanced down at his arms. “Well, the sun does shockingly exist here. Unlike your vampire den of a kitchen.” 

“I work best when the lights are dim, and you know that!” 

He smirked. “Sure. That explains why every time you call me from there, you look like you’re in a hostage video.” 

You groaned, tossing a throw pillow off your bed. “Well, not all of us can soak up some West Coast rays while also being a nipple whisperer. Guess you’re just built different.” 

“I regret telling you anything about that case.” 

You smirked as The Bachelor theme started playing faintly from your TV. You both fell quiet for a beat, comfortable. It had become your ritual – playing the show in the background, pretending to care about the drama, when really, it was just an excuse to sit in each other’s orbit for a while. 

Midway through the episode, Jack stood up and walked off-screen and came back holding something. You squinted.

“Is that… a bobblehead? Of an avocado… surfing?” 

Jack held it up proudly toward the camera like it was fine art. “Picked it up at a roadside stand. Guy said it was hand-painted by his seven-year-old niece.” 

“It’s so ugly,” you commented, grinning anyway. “I love it!”

He just laughed, setting it on the table behind him so its little bobblehead eyes stared into your soul for the rest of the call. And, his heart grew every time he caught you staring at it.

Later, you rolled onto your side, shifting your phone as you got more comfortable. The new angle must’ve shown more of the room, because Jack leaned in, eyes narrowing.

“You changed the bedroom.”

You panned the camera, shaking your head. “Just been sleeping on your side lately,” you admitted through flushed cheeks, before cutting him off when he smirked and parted his lips to speak. “Don’t! Don’t ask me why. Just helps me sleep better.” 

He didn’t make a joke. Just stared at you with that soft, unreadable look that always made your chest feel like it was going to burst open.

“I missed this view,” he said gently. His voice was low, almost reverent. “That room. That bed. You in it.”

You fiddled with the comforter. “It misses you. The vibe’s been different, though. Less broody. No angry sighs every time the neighbor’s dog barks.” 

“That dog is a demon,” Jack said, on instinct.

“You’re just grumpy when you’re tired,” you teased.

“And you’re grumpy when I’m not there for you to stick those frozen toes under my legs to warm them up.” 

You opened your mouth to retort, paused, then nodded. “Okay, that’s true.” 

Jack laughed.

The show was long forgotten now. All that mattered was the glow of your screens, the way his eyes didn’t leave yours, the way his voice softened like it always did when the night got quieter.

“What do you miss the most?” he asked, almost shy.

You hesitated, then said, “I miss you hogging the blanket.” That made Jack laugh, but you shook your head, insisting, “I’m serious. In like a stockholm syndrome-y way – I miss that. And other stuff, like you leaving all the lights on or waking me up at the stupid hours of dawn when you get back from a shift… The little stuff.” 

Jack nodded, smiling in that slow, aching way. “You know what I miss?” 

“What?” 

“Sitting at the island, watching you test out new recipes – make a mess of the kitchen like you’re on some Food Network competition.”  

You smiled, fond and aching. “That’s the only way I cook.” 

“I know,” he said. “I miss it. Miss you.” 

You let that settle between you. Let it warm you all the way through.

 “In six days, I’m gonna be stuck to you like velcro,” you murmured.

He quirked a brow. “Is that so?” 

You nodded. “And you’re not allowed to leave again, by the way. And if you do, you’re taking me in your go-bag.” You lifted your pinky finger toward the camera. “Promise.” 

Without hesitation, Jack raised his pinky to match yours. “Promise, baby.” 

And for a moment, across the glow of two tiny screens, it almost felt like he was already home.

“Are you here yet?” you asked the second you picked up the FaceTime, barely able to contain the grin stretching across your face. The sounds of the kitchen clattered behind you, but your focus remained on the screen. On him.

Today was the day Jack was coming home and you were giddy with anticipation. 

“I am,” he replied, voice smooth, teasing, “but where are you?”

You groaned, “A last-minute catering order came in, so I had to stay late. Almost just brought the chef’s knife with me to work in the car and just sprint to Arrivals.”

Jack smirked, familiar and smug. “I don’t know how TSA would’ve taken that.” 

“But, I sent a good backup, huh?” 

Jack shifted the camera to the driver’s seat, where Robby sat, looking amused as he drove. “You’re lucky I’m easily bribable with food,” he said. “Picking him up on my day off was not part of the plan.” 

“Yeah, but you’d do it for the filet mignon these magic hands can make, right?” You wiggled your fingers at the screen, and Jack snorted.

“Oh, any day of the week,” Robby agreed, his grin cracking wider.

Jack turned the camera back to himself. He looked tired from the long travel day, but the way he looked at you—like he’d been waiting all day, or rather, six weeks, to see your face—made your chest ache.

You drank him in. Stubble. Black tee. Soft warmth creeping onto his features as he looked at you. 

“How was your flight?” you asked.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he replied, rubbing his jaw. “I just spent six hours sitting in front of a guy who kept stabbing at the screen like it wronged him personally. Kept me up the whole flight.”

From off-screen, Robby piped up, “Is that why you fell asleep on my shoulder in the first five minutes of the drive?” 

“Aww, is that true?” you cooed, and Jack immediately frowned, shaking his head. “Liar,” you accused with a knowing smile, before asking, “Are you close?”

“To your place?” You nodded. “I was gonna head home first, shower, sleep for a bit – ”

You were already shaking your head, correcting him, “No. You’re coming here first; not allowed to shower before you see me.”

Robby snorted, and Jack sighed in that over-it-but-not-really way before turning to his friend. “Can you drop me off at hers?” 

“Kinda already assumed,” Robby said, tapping the GPS. “Route’s set to her address.”

“How much longer?” you asked Robby, bouncing on your heels with impatient energy.

“Twenty-three minutes.”

You groaned, tugging off your apron. The clock on the wall ticked slowly, teasingly. “Can you be here already?” you whined at Jack, then paused as a mischievous glint sparked behind your eyes. “I’m ovulating and miss you being in my – ”

“Ohhhkay,” Robby cut in, clearly scarred and making your grin widen. Jack’s mouth twitched.

“I was going to say ‘arms.’ Sheesh, Jack, what kind of freaks do you work with?” you teased, grin widening as Jack broke into a full smile and aimed the camera at Robby, who groaned in defeat. 

“You’re gonna get me kicked out of this car, trouble,” Jack said, warmth bleeding into his voice at the nickname. Your chest squeezed, missing him.

Eleni walked into the office a moment later, waving at the screen. “Hey, Eleni,” Jack greeted.

“Hey,” she said, squinting. “Was that groaning I heard just now? You guys doing phone sex again or just emotionally scarring Robby?” 

“For the record, those things are not mutually exclusive,” Robby chimed in.

Eleni grinned, turning to you. “You heading out now?” 

You nodded. “Unless there’s something else – ”

She was already shaking her head. “Go. Get out of here. You’ve already cleaned the walk-in twice just waiting for Jack to land.” 

Jack perked up at that. “Aww, is that true?” he mocked, using your tone from earlier.

You glared at him, but before you could deny it, Eleni added, “She reorganized the grain bins, too!”

You were already grabbing your keys as Eleni ushered you toward the door. “Okay, I’ll see you when you get here,” you said to Jack. 

In a rare moment of vulnerability, he puckered his lips and blew you a kiss goodbye. You flushed, heart stuttering. 

“You’re getting soft on me, Abbot,” you teased.

“Pretty sure we’re way past that.”

The drive home was a blur; you could barely keep your concentration. Every red light felt like the universe was plotting against you; every slow pedestrian crossing the street made you want to scream. 

Your heart was hammering in your ears. You didn’t even remember pulling into the driveway, adrenaline surging. But the moment you caught sight of the front door – 

There he was.

Jack.

Standing at your front door in that familiar black tee, suitcase sitting on the porch as he fumbled with the spare key you’d given him. He was so focused on unlocking the door, he didn’t even hear your footsteps approaching.

“You know, for someone who saves lives for a living,” you called out, approaching him, “you’re really struggling with the concept of a lock.” 

Jack froze, then turned.

And then, a slow-spreading, lopsided smile that had lived on your phone screen for far too long was finally gracing you in person. 

“Well, maybe if someone didn’t have ten million locks on the door, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” he said, voice lower than usual, rougher in a way that made your stomach flip.

You crossed the distance in three strides. The key clattered onto his luggage as he let it fall.

And then you were in his arms. 

Not the thought of him. Not his voice through a screen. Not his pixelated smile or sleepy texts or pictures of his takeout. Him. Warm and solid and real.

His arms wrapped so tightly around you, it felt like he wouldn’t ever let go. And you didn’t want him to. You buried your face in his chest, breathing him in. 

“I forgot how good you smell,” you mumbled into his shirt. “Like middle seat and recycled plane air.” 

He tugged playfully at your ear, leaning back just enough for you to get a good look at him. Sun-kissed skin. Slight scruff that made your fingertips itch to trace it.

“You got more handsome. That’s annoying.” 

He raised a brow. “You’re only saying that because you’re ovulating.” 

“No,” you promised. “If I did, I would’ve already dragged you inside and ripped your clothes off – ”

He kissed you mid-sentence. Not hurried. Not desperate. Just… steady. Like he had all the time in the world, because now, he did.

When you finally pulled back, breath short, he rested his forehead against yours. “Missed you,” you said softly.

“Yeah,” he whispered, almost like it hurt. “Me too.” 

You leaned into him again, arms tightening, greedy now that you finally could be. “You’re never leaving again, right?” 

He chuckled, voice cracking just a little. “You going to chain me to the radiator?” 

You shrugged. “Tempting. I do own zip ties.” 

His laugh was full, unguarded, the sound of it seeping into your skin like sunlight. “Why don’t we save those for the bedroom, huh?” 

He leaned down again to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. And then he whispered, “Let’s go inside.” 

But neither of you moved. Not yet.

You’d waited this long.

What was one more minute in each other’s arms?

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.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @wolfsmom1 @loz-3 @kats72 @crimson25 @litaloni @zombiesnips-blog @gruftiela @mochie85 @cakesandtom @eleniblue @violethaze @lokidokieokie @buttercupcookies-blog @mjsthrillernp @chantsdemarins @lulubelle814 @anukulee @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @fandxmslxt69 @artemis-13 @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @kathren1sky-blog @javagirl328 @kcd15 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @soggylampshade0 @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @mischief2sarawr @ozymdias @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @aoirohi @mushycore @marygoddessofmischief @queenshu @jasmine-pudding @kcd15 @jiyascepter