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it's a garden life // michael robinavitch x reader

part two · myrtle ( wc. 1.2k )

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The date went well. She liked the flowers, though she didn’t say anything other than pretty, thank you. Robby started trying to explain what you had told him, but she didn’t seem charmed in the way he expected. After her face twists in confusion for the umpteenth time he just gives up on trying to rationalize the choice.

They made good conversation- even had a few laughs. Something about her dog destroying a couch cushion while she was at work— or was it her cat? He's not entirely sure. His mind was admittedly elsewhere for the duration of the dinner.

All Robby could think about the whole time he was sitting across from a perfectly nice and pretty woman was the kind eyed, crossword-doing florist he promised to go back and see afterwards.

He knew he was in trouble when the first thing he did this morning wasn't texting his date to set up a second, but silently praying he hadn't cancelled his subscription to the New York Times.

Sure enough, he hadn't, and there was a copy rolled up and sitting on his front step. The outer pages were a little damp from last night's rain but the crossword was still doable- thank God.

Robby also had the day off today, he'd traded the shift with the other dayshift attending who wanted a day off later in the month for his daughter's birthday. He went back into his Google search history to find your shop again, scrolling until he found your opening hours. 10am, so he still had to wait a while.

In the meantime he filled in what he could of the crossword and took a shower to get himself presentable. It was stupid- he didn't put half this much effort into getting ready for his actual date. He literally went after work, still covered in antiseptic smell and hospital air. But for you, he thought, this would be worth it.

He heads out around 10:30, not wanting to seem too eager and get there right when you open. When he walks in you're helping a customer, something about a 5th wedding anniversary dinner tonight. You still acknowledge him though, shooting him a quick smile and millisecond of eye contact when he walks in. He returns the informal greeting then moves to linger in the back of the shop while you wrap up their flowers and cash them out, and pretends to look through your selection.

"Hey!" You turn your attention to him as soon as the customer has left the store. “You’re not gonna believe this,” he says, finally stepping up to the counter you’re behind. You quirk an eyebrow, beckoning him to continue.

“She didn’t know about the birth flower thing apparently. Looked like I was speaking a foreign language when I tried to explain.” A little amused look comes on his face when your jaw drops in response. “You’re kidding! Damn, I’m sorry, I thought that would’ve blown her away- maybe even gotten you laid," you wink.

"That's not really my type," he mumbles, trying his hardest to fight off a blush from overtaking his face. "Ah it’s okay," he shrugs, "must not have been that into the Romans.” A smile pulls at your lips hearing that he remembers your little fun fact. "Speaking of the Romans," he continues, reaching around to his back pocket. He pulls out a folded New York Times paper and opens it to the crossword, half of the squares filled with chicken-scratch handwriting the others empty or chock full of eraser marks.

"You wouldn't happen to know what goes in today's 16 down would you?" He turns the paper over to you. The curves and edges of his writing catch your eye first, before your gaze drifts over to the clues. "A senators deputy, as in Ancient Rome," you flick up to look at him, "you think I'm just chock full of facts about Rome?"

He raises his shoulders to his ears in an over emotive shrug, "ohh I don't know. Thought I'd take a chance at you maybe harbouring a few more up there," he raises his eyebrows towards you.

You try— and fail— to fight off a smile before relenting and revealing that you do in fact know many more facts about Ancient Rome. "Equites," you say, "the class below senators in Roman civilization."

"How about this one,” you ask, taking out your own half filled copy of the Times, “Immaculate Steelers play," you read, passing it, "whatever the fuck that means." Robby fishes a pair of reading glasses from his pants pocket and slides them over his ears.

You take a deep breath.

He takes the paper from you and scans his eyes down it, mumbling the clue to himself once more before humming. "It's reception. Immaculate Reception. Some iconic play from '72."

"You that old?" You tease, taking the newspaper back. He scoffs, "sometimes I feel like I am." You laugh at his self deprecating joke before turning to scribble the answer into the boxes.

Robby's too enthralled in the way a few strands of your hair have fallen into your face. He eyes over the texture and the way the sun flows through the shop window and bounces against it just right and- wait, did you say something? Shit. He was too occupied to notice.

"What's that sorry?" He asks, shaking his head quickly like it'll make you forget that you just caught him staring. You smile, "the date," you clarify. "Flowers aside... did it go well?"

"Yeah, it was good." He breathes, stuffing his hands into his pockets with a quick nod. Robby doesn't offer anything else, and you widen your eyes in anticipation. "That's it?" You shake your head slowly, "are you gonna see her again?" He just shrugs, "maybe! Maybe, I- to be honest, I hadn't thought that far ahead."

"Well, when you're ready to think that far ahead, you let me know and we'll get you another bouquet." You smile knowingly. "I'll definitely let you know," he returns your smile and nods his head. You two hold eye contact for a moment- not saying anything just... looking.

Then an all too familiar vibration in his pocket takes him out of it.

His pager.

"Fuck, he mutters, reaching around to pull it out and check the notification. "Duty calls?" You ask, though you already know the answer. He nods- regrettably. "Yup. Classic emergency room. Day off can't even stay a day off." Robby shoves the pager back into his pocket and takes his copy of the Times off your desk and puts that back too.

"Well, if I need any flowers going forward this'll definitely be my place." He says, taking a step back in preparation to leave. "Some may say I'm also good for crossword help- particularly when it's related to the Romans." You add, cheeky grin tugging at your lips.

"Right," he smiles, "that too. I'll keep you in mind-" his natural progression would be to say your name but then he realizes- he doesn't know it.

"Wait, I uh- your name," he says quickly, "I don't know your name." You smile, then tell him. He nods like he's committing it to memory. "I'm Michael. Robinavitch. Michael Robinavitch. Everyone calls me Robby."

You smile, "well then, Robby. I'll see you soon."

thank you for reading!!! plsplspls leave a comment/reblog with your thoughts it means more than you know!!! <3 <3 <3

taglist (comment if you'd like to be added/removed!!) ; @robbyrosierobinavitch @dreamamubarak @disassociation-daydreams @twiddledeedumsworld @pope-codys @beebeechaos @memoriesat30 @vystasea @antisocialfiore @thedamnqueenofhell @blackwidownat2814 @peggyofoz @sabi127 @sanchann @bookoffracturedescapes @jazzimac1967

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Baby girl?

summary: Derek and Emily find out about Spencer’s (unintentionally) secret kid.

wc: 0.5k

“You have a kid?” Derek gawked, Emily at the desk opposite with the same look on her face. Both staring at Reid.

“A daughter. She’s about to turn two.”

“Almost two years? And you never told us?

“The topic never came up.” Reid shrugged. 

“Well you never showed- you don’t even have a photo of her on your desk!”

“Yes I do! Right here.” Reid picked up a framed photo that sat right next to his computer he rarely used.

The image was the Aurora Borealis, bright purple and green waves displayed in the sky. 

Reid pointed to the corner of the image, it was him, you, and your daughter posing and smiling. You’d really have to look to notice you all in the corner, it’s not something your eye could pick up if you passed by the photo.

“Oh come on, you can barely see that. Don’t you have any other photos of her?”

Reid shifted in his seat, moving to grab his wallet out his back pocket. 

Once it got it, he opened it and turned it to face the two across from him, the clear slot showing a small photo of a baby girl, wrapped up in a soft quilt and smiling.

Emily and Derek both looked at it with dropped jaws. Their eyes darted to Reid’s unbothered face, then back to the photo, then back to his face, then back to the photo again.

They were shocked at how unbothered Reid was by this. It was never a secret though, the conversation just really never came up. He’d let them know when he wanted to.

“You know Garcias gonna be pissed she never got to set up a baby shower for you.” Derek scoffed, breaking the trance he was in. Reid put his wallet back in his pocket.

“Well you said she’s gonna turn two soon, maybe she can help out with her birthday.” Emily added in.

“So you were there for all the big moments? Birth, first steps, first words? Even with all the cases we had?” 

“I guess I got lucky.” Spencer shrugged.

“Lucky? I thought you didn’t believe in that, thought you were a man of science.” Derek mocked.

“I guess I was there at all the right times.”

It all began to click in Emily and Derek’s heads. All the days Reid was given a pass to do paperwork at home rather than being stuck in the office. Checking his cell phone more often. Seeming more busy on the weekends. Looking happier even though he was tired.

They knew it’d be something personal. They knew he had a partner, they knew you. They’ve met you before. But they never thought you’d have a child together.

“Wait, does Hotch know?” Emily said after stumbling over her words first, looking at Hotch's cracked open office door.

“Sharing details about Reid’s personal life is up to him, not me.” Hotch spoke, keeping his eyes focused on the papers he was writing on.

“Oh Garcia is gonna flip when she finds out you told him and not her!” Emily laughed while Garcia walked into the room.

“What? What am I gonna flip out about?” Garcia said, looking back and forth between everyone.

“Pretty boy over here has his own babygirl.”

“Babygirl? I thought we all knew you had a partner? Baby-girl. Baby girl? Oh. My. God!” Garcia's face dropped in shock and realization, she began to move around trying to find a place to put down her mug so she could properly freak out. “You have a daughter?”

back in business writing spencer fics!!!! oh yeah baby!!!!

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this was the most perfect ending!! i love this series so much, it was so good ryn!!🫶🏻💖🥹

Across The Hall (12) | Michael Robinavitch x Neighbor/Teacher ! Reader

Michael Robinavitch x Neighbor/Teacher ! Reader

Summary: You and Michael share a strong, loving connection. You plan a heartfelt surprise that brings you even closer.

Word Count: 3570

Warning: Age Gap (early 20s/early 50s)

Authors Note: Thank you for following along and showing so much love to this fic!!! I’ve truly enjoyed reading your comments and messages. They mean a lot (and some seriously cracked me up lol). I had so much fun writing this. Maybe we’ll see them again in the future...(lol im sad its over) but for now they live happily ever after. Enjoy! -Ryn

(if you're into Animal Kingdom, I wrote a Andrew Cody Fic lol shameless plug)

You come out of your apartment, locking the door behind you, and just as you turn around, you see Michael stepping out of his. His hair is still slightly damp from a shower, his sleeves rolled up casually, coffee mug in hand. You both meet in the middle of the hall, that easy, familiar rhythm between you two already in motion.

“Good morning,” you beam up at him, eyes lighting up the way they always do when you see him.

He smiles down at you, warm and a little sleepy, and reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb lingers against your cheek for just a second longer than necessary. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low and gravelly, still coated in the softness of morning. He leans down and plants a slow kiss on your lips—gentle, unhurried. 

He takes your hand without thinking, fingers intertwined, you walk together toward the elevator, the silence between you filled with quiet contentment. It was like this every week in the morning, just like it was before—but now, instead of being just friends, you were something more. 

The elevator doors slide open and you both step inside. He presses the lobby button with hand holding his mug, still holding yours in the other. He glances sideways at you, his mouth tilting into a soft grin. “You sleep okay?”

He watched you for a second longer, then tilted his head slightly.

“How’s the noggin?”

“Sometimes I get dizzy, but mainly headaches now,” you said with a small shrug. “Therapy’s the same, but I’m improving. They’ve got me doing stuff for my coordination—and they showed me some tricks to manage the headaches.”

“Progress is progress,” he said quietly. “Even the small stuff matters.”

You smiled faintly, appreciating how he never made you feel like you had to downplay anything.

Michael was there for you through it all—calm, patient, and steady. He never asked for more than you could give. On the hard days, he gave you quiet comfort. On the good days, he cheered you on like every step forward was something to be proud of.

As you worked on healing and growing, he never rushed you. He just stayed by your side, a constant reminder you weren’t alone.

He loved you the way you always needed—without pressure, without conditions. Not with big gestures, but with quiet care: in how he listened, how he stayed, and how he made you feel like enough, just as you were.

His love was gentle, patient, and safe—and in time, you realized it was the kind of love you’d always deserved.

Michael nodded slowly, taking it all in, his thumb brushing gently across your knuckles. His expression stayed soft but alert, like he was mentally filing away every word.

His smile softened, though that familiar crease formed between his brows—a flicker of concern he didn’t bother hiding. But, like always, he didn’t push.

Instead, he gave your hand another gentle squeeze. “Let me know if it gets worse today. I’ll check in later.”

You nodded, eyes meeting him for a quiet beat. “I know you will.”

The lobby is cool and quiet when the elevator doors slide open again. You step out together, your footsteps soft against the polished floor.

Outside the morning air is fresh, a little crisp, and the city around you is just waking up. 

You both stand on the sidewalk in front of the apartment building, pausing like always before going your separate ways for the day. He’s heading toward the hospital, you towards the school. But neither of you moves yet.

“I have a surprise for you tonight,” you said, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder. 

“Oh do you now?” Michael asked, arching a brow as he looked down at you with an intrigued grin.

“Mhm,” you hummed, smiling to yourself.

“What kind of surprise?” he asked, that familiar teasing edge slipping into his voice as he stepped a little closer. His hands found your waist, fingers tracing slowly along your sides.

You rolled your eyes and nudged his chest lightly with your hand. “None of that,” you said with a soft laugh. “If you’re lucky, there’ll be dessert.”

His smirk deepened, but he didn’t say anything right away. Instead, he just looked at you, like he was memorizing this moment, your flushed cheeks, the glint in your eye, the way you never fully pulled away after touching him.

The two of you hadn’t officially crossed that line. Not yet. He’d been patient. Always letting you lead. Always stopping where you drew the line. 

He tilted his head slightly, a playful glint in his eye.

“Lucky how? Like… dessert or dessert?” he asked, eyebrows raised, voice dipped in playful mischief.

You caught the teasing in his tone instantly—light, warm, and absolutely on purpose.

“Michael Robinavitch!” you gasped, half-laughing, half-scolding, giving his chest a little shove.

He just smirked, completely unbothered. “Don’t wear it out now, baby. I mean, if tonight’s the night, you’re gonna be saying it… over and over.”

“Stop it!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands as your whole body flushed with heat. Your cheeks were burning, your ears too, and you were pretty sure your neck was just as red. It felt like your whole body was on fire.

He chuckled, his grin spreading wide, watching you squirm. “Okay, okay. I’m just teasing.” He nudged your foot gently with his. “I like when you get all flustered.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, shaking your head. “I’m hot now, thanks.”

You grabbed the neckline of your dress and fanned yourself dramatically, trying to cool down, but it only made him laugh harder.

“You’re welcome, lil’ inferno,” he said,looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You shot him a look—half warning, half amused—but you couldn’t hold back the smile tugging at your lips.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath.

“I try,” he replied smoothly, bumping your shoulder gently with his.

Laughing and moving the conversation you say “Be ready by nine.”

He nodded slowly. “Attire?”

“Dress up, please,” you said

“Alright, you got it”

“Anything else, sweetheart?” His voice dropped just a fraction

“Yes, I need a kiss before we part ways.”

He leaned in without hesitation, giving you a peck. 

When he started to pull away, you didn’t let him. Your hand slipped up to his jaw, fingers curling there as you kissed him again—deeper this time, slower, unwilling to let go.

He smiled against your mouth, his voice low between kisses. “Babe, I gotta go. Jack’s gonna light me up if I’m late for shift change. He already gave me the ‘don’t make this a habit’ speech last week.”

“Tell him it’s not your fault,” you said, breathless. “Tell him I made you a little late.” 

He let out a soft laugh, eyes half-lidded as he looked at you. “He knows it’s you. Everyone at work knows it’s you. I’ve stopped even pretending it’s foot traffic.”

You giggled. “Foot traffic? That’s the best you could come up with?”

He shrugged, shameless. “It worked—twice.”

You grinned, fingers gently tracing the edge of his scrub collar. “Well… can you blame me? I love kissing you…”

You murmured it as you leaned in, pressing kisses to his cheek, then his jaw, and finally his lips.

“Sweetheart…” he groaned

His ears were pink. His cheeks, unmistakably flushed.

You blinked, then grinned. “Ha! Look who’s all flustered now.”

His brows shot up. “I’m not flustered,” he said quickly—way too quickly.

“Ohhh, yes you are,” you teased, beaming. “You’re blushing. You’re red as a tomato!”

“It’s the sun,” he muttered. “I’m getting sunburned already. It’s only gonna get worse if I stay here any longer.”

“Okay, okay—one more kiss, and I’ll let you go.” 

You lean in and plant a quick peck. 

“Alright, go,” you laughed, giving him a gentle push as he started to back away.

But then he paused, sighed like it physically pained him, and stepped right back into your space. His hand slid to the back of your neck as he kissed you again—this time slower, more deliberate. There was weight behind it, warmth, like he was imprinting something into you to last the rest of the day.

When you broke apart, his thumb traced a soft line down your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he murmured.

“Have a good day, Teach,” he added, still smiling as he walked backward.

“You too, Doc.” You tossed him a playful salute before turning around and heading off.

And finally—reluctantly—you both went your separate ways.

—

“I know. Please don’t start,” Michael muttered, striding past the nurses’ station without slowing down.

Jack barely glanced up from the computer, already smirking. “Didn’t even say anything yet.”

Michael didn’t stop. “Your face said enough.”

Jack chuckled, logging out of the computer and trailing him toward the staff room. “It's hard to keep a straight face when you come waltzing in here looking like a lovesick puppy.”

“I am not a lovesick puppy.”

“Yes, you are,” Princess chimed in from her station as they passed by, not even looking up from her charting.

Michael groaned, while Jack grinned wider. “See? Not just me.”

The majority of the staff had lost the bet made months ago—except for Mateo and Perla.

Mateo had guessed right: Michael didn’t have a girlfriend (at the time.) And Perla? She’d hit the nail on the head when she insisted you weren’t in the medical field.

After your accident and unexpected trip to the ER, Michael finally came clean—shutting down the whole “friend-neighbor-almost something” narrative for good.

But not before ripping everyone a new one for turning his love life into some kind of fantasy draft.

“Gee, thanks,” he muttered now.

Jack clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re whipped. So whipped. It’s actually unbelievable how whipped you are,”

They stepped into the staff room, the door clicking shut behind them. Michael walked over to the lockers, tugged his open, and tossed his bag inside.

Jack leaned against his locker, arms crossed. “I’m just saying—before her, you were all scrubs and sarcasm. Now you’ve got layers. Emotions, loved up—”

Michael didn’t answer right away. He shoved his bag further in, then shut the locker with a quiet click.

Jack watched him, still smirking. “Seriously, though. You’ve changed.”

Michael glanced over, brow raised. “Is that a bad thing?”

Jack shook his head, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “No, man. It’s not.”

He meant it. For all the teasing, all the jokes—Jack was genuinely happy. His best friend was happy. And that was rare enough in their world to be worth holding onto.

“She’s got a surprise for me tonight.”

Jack tried—tried—to look innocent, but the smirk was already creeping in. “Does she now?” he said as he opened his locker and grabbed his bag.

Michael turned, fully facing him. “You know what it is, don’t you?”

Jack shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Nope.”

“Jack.”

“Don’t look at me like that, man. I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

“So you do know.”

Jack slung the strap over his shoulder, still pretending to study the inside of his locker. “I may have… helped coordinate something.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “You helped her?”

“She needed access to a contact. I made a call. That’s it.”

“So, you do know.”

Jack finally looked at him, the grin breaking through. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Michael gave him a flat look. “You’re the worst.”

Jack laughed, heading for the door. “Tell her that after you see what she planned.”

Jack zipped up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “All I’m saying is… maybe wear something nicer than the hoodie you’ve been living in.”

Michael gave a faint, amused scoff. “She did say to dress up.”

Jack nodded like that confirmed everything. “Then don’t screw it up with that ‘comfort over effort’ routine.”

Michael smirked. “You done?”

Jack was already at the door. “Almost.”

He turned back, backing out of the room with his usual smug ease. “Try not to look too shocked when she blows you away.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

Jack grinned. “What can I say? It’s fun watching you fall.”

He disappeared into the hallway, the door swinging closed behind him with a soft click.

Michael stood there a second longer, the room suddenly quieter. Then he exhaled, just once, and started thinking about what the hell he was going to wear.

—-

You met Michael in the middle of the hallway, and for a moment, he just stood there—staring.

“Wow… you look… wow,” he said, a little breathless, eyes sweeping over you. “So beautiful,” he murmured, like the words slipped out before he could stop them.

You giggled, cheeks warming under his gaze. “Thank you. You look wow too.”

He stepped closer, hands naturally finding your waist, already drawing you in like it was instinct. But before he could close the distance, you held up a hand—and something else.

He blinked. “Is that… a blindfold?”

You smiled, a little mischievous. “It is.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere special,” you said, stepping behind him.

He let out a quiet laugh, but didn’t argue as you gently slipped the blindfold over his eyes, fingers brushing his hair back before tying it.

“You trust me?” you asked softly, your hands resting on his shoulders.

Michael nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting. “With everything.”

You gently tied the blindfold over Michael’s eyes, your fingers lingering for a moment as you brushed stray hair away from his face.

“Ready?” you whispered.

He nodded, his breath steady despite the darkness behind the fabric.

Taking his hand, you led him softly through the hallway. The subtle click of your footsteps echoed as you guided him toward the elevator.

The doors slid open with a quiet ding, and you stepped inside, still holding his hand firmly but tenderly.

You led him through the lobby and outside, taking a careful step forward onto the sidewalk.

The city felt alive yet hushed—the distant wail of a siren, the soft buzz of neon signs flickering above closed shops, and the rustling of trees in the faint wind. Michael could hear the occasional hum of a car passing by.

“Almost there,” you murmured.

His grip tightened just a little, the only sign he was feeling the anticipation too.

You slowed your pace as you approached the spot you’d picked, the shadows folding gently around you both, mingling with the distant murmur of nighttime traffic.

Your fingers brushed lightly against his palm, grounding him, “Just a few more steps.”

You stopped and gently tilted his chin up, the blindfold still shielding his eyes

“Okay,” you whispered, your fingers brushing his shoulder. “You can take it off now.”

Michael slid the blindfold off, blinking into the warm glow spilling onto the sidewalk. His eyes landed on the familiar sign: Bella Notte

He turned to you, surprise lighting up his face.

“Surprise,” you said softly.

He smiled—partly at the moment, partly at the memory.

Michael's kind gesture, asking if you wanted to come with him. It ended up being the start of something neither of you saw coming.

You’d order takeout—cacio e pepe, bruschetta, mozzarella and prosciutto, and of course, tiramisu. Then back at your apartment, you’d sit across from each other at the island table, eating and talking like you’d done it a hundred times. It was quiet. Easy. The kind of night that stayed with you long after it ended.

“It’s closed” you told him now, voice soft. “Just for us.”

He looked back at the glowing windows. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“I had help from Jack, actually,” you admitted, glancing at Michael as you both stood outside Bella Notte. The soft glow of string lights spilled from the restaurant’s windows, casting a warm, romantic hue across the cobblestone sidewalk. “The owner came into the ER a few weeks ago with a burned hand. Jack treated him, and the guy said he owed him a free dinner.”

Michael raised an eyebrow, amused. “So Jack cashed it in for us?”

You nodded, smiling. “Yes.”

Michael shook his head with a soft laugh. “That sneaky bastard.”

You bit your lip, hesitating for just a second. “I was telling him about Bella Notte… how we went there together that night. He mentioned the free dinner, and—”

Michael’s expression shifted—barely. Not hurt, but something softer, more reflective, settled in his eyes.

“He thought it’d be romantic,” you added quickly, fingers fidgeting at your side. “You know, a full-circle kind of thing.”

Michael looked at the restaurant, then back at you, his eyes lingering.

“It is,” he said simply, voice low and sincere.

You searched his face, suddenly nervous under the weight of the moment. “Is this okay? If not, we can—”

But he didn’t let you finish. He closed the space between you and kissed you—gentle, but certain. His hand slid along your jaw, anchoring you in place as his lips pressed against yours, warm and full of quiet affection.

When he finally pulled back, he kept you close, his forehead brushing yours.

“This,” he murmured, breath warm against your lips, “is perfect.”

—-

The two of you ended up trying the majority of the menu—half out of curiosity, half because neither of you could decide on just one thing.

It started with the bruschetta—crispy, warm slices of bread topped with bright tomato, garlic, and fresh basil. Michael took one bite and immediately pushed the plate toward you. From there, it spiraled.

You shared bowls of creamy fettuccine alfredo and rich, red-sauced rigatoni that left both of you shamelessly mopping up the last bits with warm focaccia. The waiter barely had time to clear each plate before the next round arrived—crab-stuffed ravioli, garlicky shrimp scampi, a perfectly blistered Margherita pizza with fresh mozzarella and basil.

At some point, Michael leaned back with a groan, hand on his stomach, and said, “Okay, I’m officially full. But also, we’re sharing the tiramisu.”

You laughed, cheeks aching from smiling so much. “We’re going to roll out of here.”

You sat across from him, legs brushing under the table, sharing bites between laughs and stories. The flicker of candlelight danced in his eyes, and your heart felt impossibly full.

You weren’t just eating dinner. You were making a memory—layered and warm, like the food, like the company. One that neither of you would forget.

You glanced at him across the candlelit table, your fork idly pushing the last bite of tiramisu. Your heart thudded softly, nerves prickling at the edge of your calm. You took a breath, reached for your water, then set it down again.

“I have to ask you something,” you said, your voice quieter than before.

Michael looked up immediately, eyes warm and attentive, the same way he always looked at you when you had something important to say.

You looked up at him, a little nervous but smiling, heart fluttering as you finally let the words leave your lips.

“May I be your girlfriend?”

His expression softened instantly, the corners of his mouth tugging into the smallest, most tender smile. His eyes, warm and steady, never left yours.

There were no expectations, no pressure—just the quiet honesty between two people who already knew. There had been no labels, no formal declaration before now. But still, it had always been there. You knew how he felt. And he knew how you did, too. You were his, and he was yours.

“Honey,” he said gently, voice full of affection, “what do you think we’ve been doing all this time? I’ve seen you as my girl from the start. I’ve just been letting you set the pace. I’ve been yours, and you’ve been mine. We both know that.”

“I know,” you murmured, cheeks warm. “But I wanted to make it official, you know… say it out loud. Make it real. You’ve been so patient with me.”

He leaned in slightly, thumb brushing your cheek in the softest stroke. “It’s real. It’s always been real.”

The air between you felt electric but calm, like something solid settling into place.

His eyes never left yours. “Well then—yes,” he said softly. “I’d love it if you were my girlfriend… but I may be your boyfriend?”

Your smile deepened, your heart fluttering at his words, the warmth in his tone.

“Yes,” you whispered, breath catching.

“Okay then, it’s settled—out loud and in the air,” he chuckled, his voice low and full of something rich and steady. He leaned in and kissed you, soft and sure, sealing the promise between you.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips, your voice steady. 

He paused, pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze deep and unwavering.

“Is that too fast? I know we just officially started dating and all,” you joked, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you tried to ease the nerves that still fluttered under the surface.

He laughed softly, the sound warm and full of affection. “Too fast? No way. Just right.”

He leaned in again, resting his forehead gently against yours. “I love you too.”

And just like that, everything felt still and full all at once—this moment, this love. 

This was the love you deserved. Him. And though you never expected it, somehow, you found it—right across the hall.

Thank you again for the love!!!

Tags: @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere@beebeechaos@antisocialfiore@delicatetrashtree@xxxkat3xxx@homebytheharbor@woodxtock@letstryagaintomorrow@livingavilaloca@elkitot@annabellee88@hagarsays@emma8895eb @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing @jazzimac1967@lafemme-nk @kmc1989@whos6claire@harrysgothicbitch@trustme3-13@qardasngan@silas-aeiou@k3ndallroy@ohmystrawberrycheesecake@ay0nha@404creep @dantemorenatalie @obfuscateyummy@steviebbboi@alliegc28@catmomstyles3@ardentistella@madprincessinabox@circumspectre@the-one-with-the-grey-color@thatchickwiththecamera@violetswritingg @valutfromlune @baileythepenguin@capj-1437@airgoddess@nah2991@interestellarprincess@laurensfilm@peachjellyy@aj3684@sorryimstupidrn@escapingjune@robbyslittlelamb@nicisthename92@littlezee80@lucidanne@spooky-librarian-ghost@the-salty-asian@lonelyheartsm@lovelyjulieee @memoriesat30 @glamorizethechaos@guiltypleassure243@princessjayll@teapartydreams

[readergf]

Innocent (Pope Cody)

Description: Nicky’s inexperienced friend catches the eye of Pope Cody.

Warning: Smut, pussy eating, innocent kink, Car Sex, public oral (sorta), Age Gap

Word Count: 1,940

There was confusion on her face as Craig told a dirty joke to the crowd. It was a pool party and everyone was there. The Cody boys loved have parties with a bunch of hot girls and getting wasted. Y/N was Nicky’s best friend and with Nicky now seeing Craig instead of J, they were there a lot. Y/N was there to hang out and have fun, she didn’t like drinking or doing drugs.

She caught the eye of the older Cody because of this. It amazed him that she was here and yet didn’t have much experience with anything. She didn’t do what they all did and didn’t get any joke Craig told. Pope’s dark eyes stared at her anytime he could. She was a wet dream, innocent and pure. Her giggle made him feel hot and bothered.

He kept his sick crush to himself and nobody noticed, thankfully. If Y/n looked in his direction he would look elsewhere. Pope was super nice to her and he wasn’t nice to anyone. She was 22 and he was in his 40’s, there was no way she wanted him. At least that’s what he told himself. 

Everyone was passed out by the pool or had gone home by now. Smurf had gone to bed moments ago, wishing the sweet girl goodnight. Pope was staring at her from afar, she was still wet from the pool so her nipples were poking through the fabric. Pope had picked everything up from the pool before he went inside. She looked over at him as he walked in, eyes on her.

She gave him a smile as he ended up at the other side of the table. “Crazy party, huh?” He gave her a small smile, “Yeah they sure know how to throw one.” He stated and she shrugged, “Not much of a party person.” That confused him since she was at every party they threw. “Why do you come to them then?” He asked her and she shrugged, “There’s this something or someone that keeps pulling me here.” She admits to him. Someone? He thought. “Someone?” He asked her and she nodded.

“Yeah. I know it sounds weird.” “Not at all.” He tells her and she sighs, “I mean it’s not like they would want me back, Ya know? I have no experience with anything.” She rants. “That doesn’t mean anything.” “The age would.” If Pope had a drink it would be all over the table right now. The person she liked was older.. like Baz? “I’m sorry for throwing that on you.” She apologized and got up from her spot. His eyes dropped to her nipples again, “Why Baz?” He asked and she turned to look at him, her face dropped not understanding why he thought it was Baz.

“I’m sorry?” He stood up as well, “Why Baz? Why are you into him?” She shook her head at his question, “Definitely not Baz.” She said. “But Baz is the only one way older than you.” She shook her head, “Not the only one.” Pope wasn’t sure when it clicked in his head that she was talking about him. Was it the look she gave him after she said it? Or the fact that only Baz and him were way older than her?

He stared at her, “Pope I’ve had a crush on you forever and I know you won’t see me like that and I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.” She said to him and without a word he walked around the table to her. They were so close, yet so far. His dark eyes stared into her pure ones, making her nervous but so turned on. “Pope.” His name left her lips in a needy whisper. “You have no idea what you do to me. I have no experience and yet I want you to ruin me.” She let out in a shaky whisper. Her face was so soft and made him extremely hard.

His fingers reached up and touched her face, her skin was so soft and felt like silk. The height difference between them was exciting and made her lean up on her tippy toes and drag her lips against his. Their lips met in a needy kiss that felt like it should’ve happened forever ago. Her hands came up to the back of his hand, his hands on her hips. For not having any experience, she was a great kisser. She pulled away from the kiss to breathe, “Pope Please.” She whispered against his lips, so needy and desperate for more.

She wanted him in control and that’s what he was going to give her. He placed her on the counter and they kissed again. Her hands ran through his short hair, his hands moved to her back to untie the bikini top. The wet piece of clothing fell from her chest, freeing her boobs. Pope pulled away from the kiss to look at her, she was so beautiful. She gets insecure and covers up her chest causing him to shake his head and remove her hands from her boobs and pins them to the table, she lets out a gasp.

“A pretty little thing like you should never hide yourself.” He tells her  and leans down to lick one of her nipples, making her gasp his name. The feeling of his mouth on her nipple was so foreign but so good. Her soft moans filled the air as he sucked, “Pope.” He felt himself harden over her pretty lips whimpering his name. His hands moved to her bottoms and tugged on them, “Need these off.” He mumbled against her nipple and she nodded, lifting her hips so he could remove them. The cool air hit her wetness, making her gasp.

Pope pulled away from her nipple and looked down at her pussy. She had such a nice pussy, it was soaked from her wetness and the way he was touching her. His fingers ached to be rubbing her clit, “Pope, please do something.” She begged the older man as he just stared at her. He dropped to his Knees and stared up at her like she owned him. In this moment she did as she stared back down. Her eyes held need and nervousness, never having anyone be down there like this before.

She bit her lip and wanted to so bad shove his face in her pussy and force him to get on with it but even though he was on his knees, he still had the power. Pope didn’t make her wait much longer as he dove into her wetness, soaking his nose and mouth. Her head fell back and she let out a loud moan in surprise. She forgot that Smurf, J and Craig were in the house asleep and covered her mouth to muffle the sinful noises that fell from it. Pope loved the fact that she did that and it encouraged him more.

“Remove your hand. I wanna hear those pretty noises.” He mumbles against her. Her hand fell from her mouth and went to his hair that wasn’t long enough to pull or anything but it made her feel better. She felt like if she didn’t have a hold of something, she would float away. Her whines and moans were more quiet than the first as she tried to be reasonable but each time his nose hit her clit she wanted to scream. His face was covered by her juices now, he was drowning in her pussy and didn’t care if he died like this. His strong hands kept her thighs opened, that tried to close.

His fingers digging into her thighs as he focused on her pleasure.  Her hips fought against moving until she couldn’t help it anymore, it was like her body took over her mind and her hips started fucking his face. She whimpered as each thrust, her clit hit his nose and her high was approaching. She became a woman on a mission to cum all over his face, “So close.” She moaned and he sped up his movements until her breathing turned to panting. “Pope, I’m cumming.” She cried out and her hips moved hard but slow as the orgasm rocks through her.

It was one of the best feelings she’s ever felt as it made her whole body weak in the best way possible. She screamed and prayed to the man between her legs as he let her ride out her high.  She nearly collapsed on the counter once he pulled away. He was also breathing hard and his face covered in her orgasm. He stared at her, waiting for her to calm down as that clearly was the hardest she’s ever came before. Her eyes opened and she stared at the ceiling, her brain wasn’t working still in euphoria.

“Are you okay?” Pope asked her as he stood up between her legs. She shook her head, not trusting her voice as she sat up. “That was..” She trailed off still out of it, “Wow.” She said in awe. “I’m glad you enjoyed-“ her lips interrupted him as she kissed him. She could taste herself on his lips and tongue, moaning.

“We probably shouldn’t take this further here.” He pulls away from the kiss. “You have a room here?” She asked, her hands running over his muscular back. He shook his head, “Not here no.” J was given his room while he was in prison. “Your car?” She asked, hopefully and that made him chuckle, “You sure?” He asked and she nodded. “I want words.” He told her, “Yes Pope, I’m sure.”

The car was rocking, if anyone came outside right now they would know exactly what was going on. Pope’s hands held her hips as she bounced on his cock, finally used to it. Her moans and whimpers of his name filled the car. He was watched her intensely, he made no noise but his eyes were soft. He felt pleasure but tried not to react to it as he didn’t want to miss a moment of this blissed out beauty riding him.

Her head was back and she wasn’t hold back, his name was all she knew. Her pussy was going crazy around him with each thrust, making him let out a groan. One of her hands was on the window and the other placed on his chest. She was so close, she was losing rhythm and panting like crazy. His dick was twitching inside of her and it was taking everything in him not to cum inside of her.

“Pope, fuck I’m going to-“ but her high cut off her words as she screamed his name, cumming. She nearly fell on him as she rode out her high, her expressions and babbled nonsense almost made him cum. He pushed her off him, lightly as he came all over her stomach with a sexy groan. She gasped at the sight of him milking himself until his orgasm faded.

They were under a blanket in his jeep, still naked from the previous 10 minutes.  Not many words were spoken as his eyes bore into her. “My clothes are inside.” She says and looks at him with a small smile, she really didn’t want to get up. She was perfectly fine falling asleep on his chest. “I can go get them for you.” He offered and she pretended to think about it, “Or I can go get them myself.” His face dropped at her joke. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” She giggled at his response and laid her head on his chest, perfectly fine without clothes. 

[readergf]

Time to be a whore (again)

https://www.tiktok.com/@emorejdk/video/7505090795511303446

So like…. Reader being in med school (they start it late or something so the gap isn’t too wild)… large age gap with Dr abbot 🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️and I’m just feral bye

(Reader is a med student. They have a problematic age gap- 23 and 37) everyone say thank you @automaticllamacycle for being my yapping partner for the Pitt <3

Abbott walks into your apartment late at night wearing scrubs that still have blood stains on them from a long shift that ended hours ago. His hair is disheveled and there are dark circles under his eyes but he manages a small smile when he sees you.

she looks at him sweetly, “Jack?” she knows just how to play him to her advantage.

"Mhm?" Jack responds softly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He knows you're smart and beautiful - a dangerous combination. He watches as you twirl your hair around your finger innocently. "What do you need help with, sweetheart?"

“Can you help me study anatomy?” she looks up at him with puppy eyes, she knows she’s playing her cards in her favor. Jack’s a sucker for her puppy eyes and pouty face.

Jack sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He knows he shouldn't be here but he can't say no to those puppy eyes. "Alright," he says, stepping further into your apartment and closing the door behind him. He looks around briefly before setting his bag down on your kitchen counter.

she holds up strips of paper and tape and he quirks a brow.

Jack raises an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. "What are those for?" he asks, already knowing you're up to something. He leans against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

“For you..” she says sweetly, her voice is soft.

"For... me?" His tone is slightly wary but his eyes soften at your gentle voice. He clears his throat uncomfortable, knowing this innocent act is getting to him. "And what exactly do you plan on doing with those, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.

she taps the bottom of his scrub top, “off please?”

Jack's breath catches in his throat at your request. He knows he should say no, that this is inappropriate, but your sweet voice and those innocent eyes are too much for him. He slowly unbuttons his scrub top, revealing his bare chest beneath. The room suddenly feels warmer. "Happy now?"

she hands him the slips of paper and tape, “motivate me to study..”

He watches as you hand him the papers and tape, his mind racing with possibilities. He knows this is wrong, that he's taking advantage of your innocence, but he can't help himself. He slowly begins to tape the papers to his chest, the muscles in his arms flexing with each movement.

she chews her lip softly watching him tape the strips over his chest and arms.

Jack notices your lip between your teeth and it takes every ounce of his willpower not to lean down and kiss you. He finishes taping the last piece of paper to his chest, trying to keep his voice steady. "There," he says, spreading his arms out slightly.

she hums, “tell me where to touch..”

His heart skips a beat at your request. He swallows hard, trying to think of a way to make this educational and not just an excuse to touch him. "Well, sweetheart," he starts, his voice hoarse. "You should start with the basics. The major muscle groups."

she nods, “tell me one to touch.”

"The pectoral muscles," he says. "They're responsible for arm movement and support the chest. You can feel them here," he says, placing your hand on his chest. He tries to ignore the warmth of your touch and the way your small hand looks against his muscular chest.

she nods and he moves his arms softly so he can show her how they move under her hand as he moves his arm, “pectoralis major.. they’re the largest and most superficial of the muscle groups right?”

He nods, impressed by your knowledge. "Exactly," he says, his voice a little breathless. "The pectoralis major originates on the sternum and rib cage, and inserts on the humerus. It's responsible for the majority of the chest's movement and strength."

she nods, “next one?”

He takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure. "Next would be the biceps," he says, flexing his arm slightly to show you the muscle. "You can feel it here," he guides your hand to his upper arm.

she nods and holds his bicep as he shows the mechanics of the muscle movement.

Jack demonstrates the movement of his biceps, your small hand wrapped around his arm. He feels himself getting hard at the innocent touch, hoping you can't feel it through his scrub pants. "See how it contracts when I bend my arm? That's because it connects bone-to-bone here," he points out.

she nods, “proximal and distal attatchment of the tendons at the shoulder and elbow.”

"Good." He's becoming distracted by your knowledge and the way your fingers curve perfectly around his muscle. "The next one..." He clears his throat, "...is a bit lower." He guides your hand lower on his arm, "The brachialis."

she nods, “upper arm muscle that flexes the elbow.”

"That's right." His voice comes out a bit hoarse. Your hand is now dangerously close to his elbow bend, which is suddenly very aware of your touch. He swallows hard. "You know your anatomy..." He pauses, "...Do you mind if I show you one more?"

she nods looking up at him like he hangs the moon and stars and he pulls back taking off the pieces of paper and she furrows her brows, “we don’t need them?” she tilts her head.

"No, we don't need them." He watches you tilt your head innocently. God, she's beautiful. He realizes he could easily lose control with her. He unconsciously unbuttons his pants, feeling hot. "You ask smart questions."

she bites her lip softly, is tonight the moment they finally act on the sexual tension.

He watches your lip disappear between your teeth. He can't take it anymore. He steps closer, invading your space slightly. "You know..." His voice drops lower "...I think there's something else I'd like to show you." His eyes flick down to your lips briefly before returning to yours.

she hums and touches his chest where there’s light grey hair “can I.. take you to my bedroom? I can show you where it” she trails off afraid he might say no.

His heart races at your touch and words. No one has invited him into their bedroom in years, not since his wife passed. But this feels different. He captures your wrist gently but firmly. "Lead the way." His voice is rough with emotion and desire. "Before I change my mind."

she pulls him eagerly to her bedroom, she’s younger than him and so eager. It makes his cock throb.

He follows eagerly, watching your small figure pull him along like a magnet. His scrub pants are uncomfortably tight now as he gets a good view of your ass in those short shorts. Once inside the bedroom, he closes the door softly behind him, locking it without you noticing.

she lays on the bed sliding off the shorts to her panties.

He watches you slide those tiny shorts off, revealing your perfect little body in just a pair of soft pink panties. His mouth waters and his hands ball into fists as he tries to control himself. He leans against the door, his eyes locked onto your sweet pussy. "Fuck."

“you wanna teach me anatomy.. huh Dr. Abbot?”

He pushes off from the door and walks slowly towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Oh, I'm going to teach you anatomy." He reaches the bed and climbs on top of you slowly, caging you in with his arms. "...Every single part."

she hums, “yeah?”

He leans down and presses his lips against your neck, kissing and sucking gently. "Mhm. Starting with the clit. That little nub right there is extremely sensitive. He runs his finger over your panties, pressing against your clit. "You feel that?

she nods and whines softly.

"God, you're so responsive." He rubs slow circles over your panties, making you whimper. His voice drops lower, sexier. "And these..." He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down slightly.

she lifts her hips and his mouth his on her clit immediately.

He groans against your pussy, his tongue immediately diving in to lick and suck your clit. He holds your hips down to keep you still as he eats you out aggressively, his stubble scratching your inner thighs. "So fucking sweet..."

she whines and arches and squirms.

He slips two fingers inside you suddenly, curling them up to hit that sweet spot inside. His tongue keeps working your clit as he finger fucks you slowly. "You like that baby? Like when I eat this sweet little pussy?"

she nods and her hand flies to his curls, “don’t stop.. god don’t ever stop”

He growls against your pussy, loving your dirty talk and desperate hands in his hair. He fucks you with his fingers faster, curling them perfectly as he sucks hard on your clit. Within minutes, you're crying out his name as you cum hard on his face.

he pulls back with a satisfied smile and kisses over the muscle groups naming them.

"See? Anatomy is fun when you're learning with the right teacher." He traces his fingers over your muscles as he kisses them - biceps, deltoids, pecs... He moves down, kissing your abs - rectus abdominis.

she hums as his tongue swirls her areola and kiss over her breasts.

"Your breasts... perfect mounds of soft flesh." He kisses around your areolas, teasing but not yet touching your nipples. "The pectoralis muscles here are gorgeous..." He slides his hands down your sides, tracing your ribcage - costal arch.

He finally flicks his tongue over your nipple, making you gasp. He smiles against your skin and takes the whole thing in his mouth, suckling gently. He moves to the other breast, giving it equal attention. "And these perfect pink nipples..."

her pussy is soaked again, her hand moves down to cups his bulge in his boxers.

He groans deeply, pressing his bulge into your hand. "Mmm, someone is eager." He continues to suck on your nipple while grinding against your hand slightly. "Do you want me inside you? Is that what that pretty little pussy needs?"

she nods and whines, “please jack” he uses it to slip in another line about teaching.

"Such impatient muscles..." He smirks against your skin, then nips playfully at your nipple. "Should I teach your muscles how to wrap around my cock instead of your fingers? The pelvic floor muscles..." He slides a finger back inside you while speaking. "...would learn so well today..."

she blushes and hums her eyes flutter at his fingers back inside her wet pussy.

He adds another finger, twisting them slightly as he moves in and out, hitting that sweet spot. "Look how well these inner muscles clamp around me. Beautiful response..." His voice is husky with desire and expertise.

she whines, “jack- i need you..” she arches and squirms softly.

He groans, loving your desperation. "I know you do." He slides his fingers out and brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean. "Let me teach these muscles something they've never felt before..." He quickly removes his boxers, revealing his thick erection.

she shifts on the bed her thighs bracketing his hips.

He positions himself between your thighs, the head of his cock pressing against your soaking wet pussy. He pushes forward slowly, the thick head slipping inside you easily. "Fuck... so tight." He begins to thrust gently. "Feel that?"

she hums and her eyes flutter closed but he wants her eyes on him.

He stops moving and leans down, grabbing your chin and forcing your eyes open. "Keep those pretty eyes on me." He starts to move again, his thick length stretching your tight pussy. "Look at how much bigger I am than your fingers..”

she looks at his hazel eyes.

His eyes soften slightly as he gazes back at you, but his thrusts remain deep and powerful. He wraps one hand around your neck, not squeezing but keeping your face turned up towards his. His other hand grips your hip firmly. "That's my girl.. eyes on me.."

[readergf]

Bruised Pt 4 | Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: When you find yourself in an abusive relationship, you never thought your attending Jack Abbot would become your protector and saving grace.

TW: domestic violence, age gap relationship (reader is in late 20s & Jack is 49), hospital setting, surgery, medical inaccuracies, seizures, nudity, fluff, angst, eventual smut, Not beta read. Likely typos. Lmk if there is anything else!

Word Count: 2.1k

Prev | Next

Authors Note: this chapter is kinda booty. it's really just a filler chapter so i can really get this story going! smut, courtroom, and down bad protective jack is comingggg.

You tried to explain, to plead. He was just trying to protect you. Jack stood and placed his hands behind his back without hesitation, lips curling into a soft smile as he stared at you.

“Don’t get too upset, you gotta keep your blood pressure down and oxygen levels up. I’m gonna be fine, I promise.”

“No, Jack. Please!” You cried out as they began to lead him towards the door and Robby entered the room after hearing the commotion.

“Woah woah what’s going on?” Robby protested, blocking the exit with his hands up. “She was being attacked and he put a stop to it. Isn’t he protected under the law?”

“Not when excessive force is used.” The other officer spoke up. Ordering Robby to step aside. After arguing with the two officers, he relented. As Jack was lead out of the room in cuffs, a sob stuck in your throat.

“Robby,” you wailed, reaching out for him as the room begun to spin. He looked at the monitor and saw your sats dropping again. You felt strange. The lights were too bright, noises were too loud. You felt like your skin was crawling, like the room was spinning. You were hot and angry. Sweaty and tired.

“Okay slow your breathing down okay. Slow deep breaths.” He slipped the oxygen mask over your face again and instructed you to lay back. You fought the mask, trying to rip it off once more. You were tired of the confinement, the constriction.

“Get him, Robby,” you gasped as you ripped the mask off, “bring him back to me.” You pleaded before things went black.

————

As Robby pulled up to the police station, he felt a pit in his stomach. The sweaty handprints glistening on the steering wheel as he put the car in park and hopped out.

“How is she?” Jack asked as Robby bailed him out. Robby just walked ahead, ignoring his question. Jacks stomach lurched, grabbing Robby’s arm and pulling him back to face him. “I said how is she, Robby?”

“Get in the car, Jack.”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I said get in the fucking car, Jack!” Robby screamed, before hopping into the car and slamming the door shut.

Jack paused before getting into the car and putting his seatbelt on quietly. He looked ahead with dead eyes, knowing something was wrong, and it was bad. He didn’t want to know, but needed to know.

“Robby…”

“Jack, when you left she had another seizure. It wasn’t good. She didn’t respond to the 4mg of Ativan or the Keppra. She went into status epilepticus. We had to intubate. She’s stable but not showing signs of any neurological recovery. I’m sorry Jack. It’s not looking good.”

In an instant Jacks life imploded once again. He’s experienced this feeling all too much in his 49 years on this earth. Through war. Through his amputation. Through losing his wife. And now he was losing you. He began to punch the dash of the car, trying to find a way to express the anger and hurt he was feeling. No amount of therapy could save him now. He wanted to go to the roof and jump, not wanting to risk living in a world without you.

“Get me back to the hospital, Robby.” Jack snapped through clenched teeth.

Without a word, Robby put the car in drive and began the journey back to the hospital. When they reached the ICU, Jack began to barrel down the hallway, his prosthetic clicking against the firm tile. When he passed your room, walking with such haste and fury, Robby’s heart stilled. Charlie’s room.

“Jack! Don’t!” He took off, sprinting down the hallway towards the man on a mission. Jack didn’t flinch, didn’t stall or look back; he had tunnel vision. Just before his hand reached the door knob he was knocked off his feet, Robby’s arms pulling him backwards.

“Let me go, Robby.” Jack shrugged him off with a shove, only for Robby to grab him again.

“Enough, Jack!” But Jack was in a trance, set on finishing what he started. When Robby tried grabbing him for a third time is when Jacks fist flew. With a swift duck, Robby was able to dodge the incoming punch and swing back. This time, the crack of his fist on Jacks face echoing through the empty hallway.

Stumbling backwards, the punch snapped him out of his daze. The pain radiated through his entire face as he felt the blood trickle down his cheek.

“I bailed your ass out of jail once,” Robby huffed, trying to catch his breath. “I’m not gonna fucking do it again.” With another shove away from the door, Jack sunk to his knees, pressing his back against the wall. For the first time, Jack had no words. A sob stuck in his throat.

“Listen man,” Robby slid down the wall beside him, clapping a firm hand on his shoulder. Robby would be lying if the firm grip wasn’t for leverage as much as it was for comfort. Getting old sucked. ; “As much as I don’t blame you, you gotta think with your head, not your heart. If you go back in that room, we both know exactly how it’ll end.”

Jack rested his elbows on his knees, looking between his legs with his head hung low. Robby wasn’t entire sure he was even listening, but continued anyway:

“You’re already in deep shit, brother. This entire situation is fucked up. I don’t blame you for feeling this way. But she needs you. She’s intubated but go talk to her. She’ll hear you.”

Robby helped him up, walking down the hallway to your room with his hand around the back of his neck, almost tethering him in place. He still didn’t trust Jack, no one did. Not even Jack trusted himself. When he walked into the hospital room and saw you with a tube down your throat, completely sedated- he broke down. Grabbing your limp arm he pressed kiss after kiss along on your hand, your wrist, up your arm, your shoulder, and jaw. He wanted so desperately to press a kiss on your lips, only thing stopping him was the endotracheal tube hanging from your mouth. He looked through the drawers looking for some Vaseline, brushing some across your chapped lips from the oxygen and dry hospital air.

“There hasn’t been any improvement from her EEG.” The nurse whispered.

Taking your hand in his, he felt his nose burning as he fought to hold back more tears.

“Hi…” Jack spoked, “I’m so sorry… if I didn’t… if I hadn’t had left you, maybe you’d be okay. Maybe I would have been here to help you… As a doctor I took an oath to do no harm, but… but when I looked into the trauma room and saw him with his hands on you, hurting you, I snapped. I didn’t care what happened to me, if I lose my license, if I got hurt, if I killed him, if I went to jail. Because I would have stopped at nothing to keep to safe, like I promised you I would. I’m sorry I broke that promise. That I wasn’t there. I know when promises are broken… when…” he began to stutter “well I don’t blame you if you don’t trust me. But come back to me baby, and give me another chance. Let me make it up to you. To keep you safe for the rest of my days, just come back to me.”

Jacks heart fluttered when he felt your hand tighten around his. He looked up immediately, looking for any sign of you. Your face was still but your hand held onto him tighter. Everyone told him that things weren’t looking good, the trauma you sustained was too great. But Jack knew you were still there, and he was going to wait for you.

Aside from occasional trip down to the ED when it got particularly busy during a trauma, he did exactly that. He sat by your bedside, running on pure fumes and adrenaline. Massaging your legs and turning you to keep circulation flowing and avoiding bed sores. Reading to you, the news, medical studies, or old magazines. Filling you in with the latest gossip downstairs.

“Rumor has it McKay and Matteo are seeing each other. Poor Victoria…” he chuckled.

People would often visit to keep Jack company. Dana would come bringing dinner so he could eat something than hospital food. Robby snuck in a beer or two (or six). Collin’s came to paint your nails. Mohan let (more so demanded) Jack go home and shower and then gave you a sponge bath.

It was two agonizing weeks until you started to show positive signs for extubation.

Waking up with intense pressure in your throat, wanting to gag but being physically unable. The extubation process was agony. It was a procedure you performed hundreds of times, each time wincing at the patient who would gag and sputter as tears rushed down their face.

Seeing Jack there as you woke up was a presence you didnt know you needed. Reaching for him as they prepared to remove the ET from your throat. As they removed the tube, you gagged violently as you fought to catch your breath. Your throat was sore and swollen, like it was closing in on you. You opened your mouth to speak but Jack stopped you,

"Hey, hey, dont speak. Dont say a word. You aren't going to have a voice for a while. Let your throat rest, okay? I'm here."

And he was. It took two days for you to speak for the first time but he was there. He was there to help you out of bed and take a few steps across the room. And when the realization of what happened finally began to sink in, he was there to talk when you were too afraid to sleep.

"What if I dont wake up?" you whispered through tears, voice still raspy.

"I'll be right here, I wont let that happen, okay? Shut your eyes, baby."

When panic would set in, Jack would lull you to sleep by whispering in your ear and tracing his fingers along your back. You walked a fine line of fearing death and welcoming it, almost longing for it.

"Just let me die, Jack." you're sobs echoing through the hospital room. The physical and mental pain was too much to endure.

"Shhh, you know I couldn't do that." He crawled into your squeaky hospital bed, laying down beside you, and pressed a kiss on the back of your exposed shoulder. Your body tensing and then relaxing under his soothing touch. It all felt so foreign to you. Having someone else's hands on your body in a way that wasn't to inflict pain. Jack ran his hands over the goosebumps that dotted you skin. You turned to face him, fitting perfectly snug in his arms. His grip tightened on you a bit, as if he was afraid to get you go.

"You're so beautiful." he whispered, your faces mere inches from one another. You shook your head. Your hair was shaven in patches, face swollen, the bruises still lingered and the scars began to take their place. No. No. You felt angry. Lied to. Like he was taking pity on you.

"No." you mewled. "Don't."

"Dont what?"

"That. Lie to me. Dont do that."

"Lie to you? I'm not lying to you."

"Look at me again, Jack. Look at me."

"I am."

"Then how could you say I'm beautiful?"

Jacks eyes softened. Cupping your face in his hands, he brushed the tears away from your cheeks with his thumbs. You both found your legs were automatically tangled together as he pulled you closer, flush against his body.

"Because I love you." he finally admitted, heart in his stomach. "I love you for all that you are."

You were breathing rapidly as his admission but felt like you were void of all oxygen.

"I love your scars" he whispered, leaning in and placing a kisses along your scarred cheek. "I love your eyes." he brushed his lips along the fading bruise that still covered your lids. "I love your strength" he buried his face into your remaining hair, caressing his lower lip along your surgical incision. "I love your resilience" he kissed the swelling on your neck, where it still felt as if Charlies fingerprints were pressing into your throat.

"I love you." he whispered again, before kissing your lips tenderly, running his thumb along your jaw. You melted into him slowly, your tongues dancing together in synchronicity. The pain temporarily subsiding, a moan escaping from your mouth. He bit your lower lip softly before pulling back to look at you once again.

"I want to go home, Jack." your body trembled, longing for his touch once again.

"Home?"

"I don’t care where home is. Home is where ever you are."

Tag list //

@michasia24 @emma8895eb @nosebeers @runawaybaby3 @antisocialfiore @xxxkat3xxx @livingavilaloca @popeabbot @catmomstyles3 @bxxbxy @meowmeowyoongles @midnight-dixon @nerdgirljen @aj3684 @screechingenemy18 @profoundlynerdywolf @rogersbarnesxx @sebastianstangirl01 @princesssunderworld @looneylooomis @shadowhuntyi @drlangdonsbabydaddy @celiacallsitcausal @sjester42-blog @geekgirl1996 @ksyn-faith @peggyofoz @trustme3-13 @foolishseven @floofmc @anxiousfuckupon @silas-aeiou @pinkdrinkwithraspberry @thedamnqueenofhell @tinyfairies @stellaforstar666 @ch3rrvreds @the-salty-asian @child-of-the-amis @sharkluver @introvertathome @rae4725 @cannonindeez

(I think I got everyone! Sorry if I missed you!!!! Lmk if you wanna be added)

[readergf]

Only Yours

Jack Abbot x f!reader

synopsis: reader got some new, tighter scrubs. jack gets jealous when one of the first years tries to ask her out. will this give him the incentive to finally make things official between them?!

warnings: mdni! reader and jack are in a situationship, smut: fingering (f receiving), one orgasm (f), coming in pants (m), language

words: 1.6k

a/n: enjoy!

“Hey Ellis.” You greet your friend as you set your belongings down at your station at the central hub of the ED.

Ellis is already logged into her computer despite only arriving a minute before you. “Hey yourself.”

“Ready for another twelve hours?”

Ellis groans. “Am I ever?” She glances up at you, and her eyebrows bounce up. “New scrubs?”

You look down at your attire, flattening any wrinkles. “Yeah. They’re kinda tight.”

“Do a turn.”

You laugh but comply, and Ellis cracks a joke about your ass looking nice. She glances over your shoulder and then leans in. “Did you get them to show off for your man?”

You scoff. “Abbot isn’t ‘my man.’”

She isn’t amused. “Sure, tell yourself that.”

“I’m serious.” You whack her with a folder. 

Ellis leans back in her chair, crossing her arms as she squints at you. “In that case, no more eye-fucking at work.”

You roll your eyes and straighten your ID. “Fuck you.”

She belts out a laugh. “Gladly.”

Shooting her a glare, although you can’t hide the amusement behind it, you study the screen for any interesting cases. Finding one, you take off with a wink. 

-

Six hours into your shift, and it’s been pretty uneventful for a hospital. This is relieving, because you can hardly concentrate when you notice Abbot’s eyes trailing you. He studies you like a hawk; it seems like he’s waiting for you at every corner, like he knows what room you’re in and when. At first, you smile in greeting, but after a point, you start to ignore his stare. Let him look. If he isn’t going to get the balls to ask you out for real, you can show him what he’s missing.

Bending over to lean against the nurses’ station, you don’t notice one of the first year doctors come up until he’s hovering over you, breathing down your neck. You think his name’s Dr. Greyson.

“I’m bored,” Greyson says, leaning against the station next to you. He sighs dramatically, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“There’s plenty of patients needing care,” you say tiredly, picking at a nail.

“Wanna get drinks after this?”

Oh, God. “I’m going to sleep after this.”

“You’re no fun!” Greyson nudges you, almost aggressively, and you bite your lip to hold back from cursing him out. 

You turn so you’re looking at him directly, but his eyes aren’t on you. They’re on your boobs. “Can I help you with something?” you ask bluntly.

He shrugs. “Just thought a pretty girl like you deserves some company.”

You can’t believe this. You can’t believe him. Looking around, you try to spot an out… and then you see Abbot.

He’s leaned against a wall by the break room, thick arms crossed and lips pursed. He looks… angry. And he’s staring right at you.

Oh.

Oh.

He’s jealous.

With a smirk you’re sure he sees, you turn back to Greyson and lean a little closer despite the gag reflex it activates. “You think I’m pretty?”

Greyson grins. “Yeah.”

You bite your lip in a sultry manner that has him drooling like the dog he is. “You said you wanna go out for drinks?”

He nods enthusiastically. You almost feel bad for the guy, if not for the fact he’s absolutely disgusting. Putting your hand on his chest, you straighten his scrub top. “I’ll think about it.” You pat his chest once and then turn on your heel with a wide grin, conscious of the way your hips sway as you head to an empty bay of the hospital.

You fix your hair as you go; you know he’s coming.

-

You barely make it through the door and past a few rooms before you hear the door slam shut behind you, stomps echoing through the hall. Your pace quickens, your heart racing because of this little game you’re playing. 

You hear Jack groan, his steps speeding up, and then there’s an arm around your forearm, swiveling you around so fast you nearly get whiplash. 

Abbot throws you against the nearest wall, a hand cushioned between your head and the surface to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. Even angry, he’s careful. It’s fucking hot.

“The fuck was that?” He’s fuming, hands clenching and unclenching into fists, flexing the muscles in his arms. His brow is pulled taut, and he licks his lips as he stares at you with intimidation. 

You play dumb. “What was what?”

Jack’s arm shoots up next to your head, caging you in as he leans in close. “Don’t play with me.”

You reach out and fiddle with his collar. “But I like seeing you frustrated.”

Jack groans, cursing. His eyes never leave yours, intense with possession and want. “What did you tell him?”

You’re nonchalant as you glance away from him. “I told him I’d think about it.”

Jack’s other hand is at your chin, moving your head back to face him. “Like hell you did.”

You giggle, and you swear you see fumes coming out of his ears. Jack grips your chin tighter. “Tell him no.”

“Why?” you ask. “It’s not like anyone’s claimed me-”

“Oh, I’ll claim you alright,” he growls. 

Your thighs squeeze together. “Jack,” you can’t help but moan.

His eyes flicker with fury. “Oh, so now you remember me.”

Your expression softens, and you forget the playfulness you were oh-so-eager to flaunt. “I always remember you.”

Jack stutters, and he actually looks away. His palm clenches beside your head, but his grip on your face loosens. 

You press a hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. “Tell me you want more than this. Tell me you want me, and I’m all yours.”

He turns back to you, hand sliding from your chin to your cheek. “Of course I want you,” he breathes.

Your heart races. “Then I’m all yours.”

That’s all Jack needs to break the gap between you two, sealing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. The two of you fight for dominance, but you eventually let him have it, moaning against his tongue and allowing it to slip into your mouth. Your hands move to grip at his bicep, to press against his growing bulge. He groans against your mouth, hips stuttering against you. You’re absolutely dripping.

“Fuck,” he moans as he pulls back, hands and eyes moving down your body. He grips your hips tightly, pulling your lower half roughly against his. “You don’t know how crazy you’ve been driving me, wearing these scrubs.” 

You pant as one of his hands slips under your underwear, fingers gliding and collecting your slick. He moans when he realizes just how wet you are. 

You slouch against the wall, certain he’ll hold you up if you lose your strength. “I wore them just for you.”

“Fuck.” Jack glances down the hall and turns back to you with lust. “They’ll be looking for us.”

You pull him closer. “Let them.”

He breaks into a cheeky grin and lets two of his fingers slip inside of you. You gasp at the feeling, and his other hand on your hip tightens to keep you up. “Dirty girl,” he breathes against your ear.

You practically fall forward, resting your head on his shoulder as his fingers plunge in and out of you. His thumb rubs frantic circles against your clit, and your body trembles.

“There she is,” he says proudly through clenched teeth. “You can talk to other guys, but I’m the only one who gets to make you come.”

“Only you,” you parrot, biting the fabric of his top.

“Let go for me,” he grunts, and he moves his lips to suck on your neck. His mouth suctions around the skin, and you bite harder on his shirt to stiffen your yell as you come apart on his fingers. 

Jack continues to suck as you come, working you through your orgasm with an unyielding hand on your hip and rough, experienced fingers in your vagina. 

His lips pull from your throat with a pop, and you cry out as your orgasm settles. With your full body weight against him, Jack slowly moves his fingers out of you, and both of you sigh in discontent when you’re no longer wrapped around him.

Jack lifts his hand and licks his fingers clean, and you nearly come again from the sight alone. Speaking of which… You begin to lower yourself to your knees to return the favor, but an arm stops you. 

“You-” you try, but Jack glances down with a flushed, almost embarrassed expression. “No need.”

Your gaze shifts down, and you spot the wet, white patch soaking through his scrub pants. You bite your lip as you look back up at him. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Jack laughs awkwardly, and you lean forward to peck his lips. When you pull away with hooded eyes, he steadies himself against the wall. 

“Tell him no,” he repeats.

You laugh. “I was never going to go.”

Jack squints at you. “Still. Tell him no.”

“Got it, sir.”

Jack groans, and he fiddles with your collar, studying the hickey on your neck. When you look down to notice it, you realize just how big and noticeable it is.

“Jack,” you moan.

He shrugs innocently. “Told you I’d claim you.”

You smack his shoulder with a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

He smiles and pulls you close again. “Let me take you on a date. A real one.”

You’re beaming, but then your expression flashes with mischief. “I don’t know,” you drawl. “I kinda told Greyson I would-”

Jack grabs the back of your head and clashes his lips against yours. You groan with a smile, and he nips your bottom lip as he pulls back.

His eyes are intense. “God, I can’t wait to ruin you.”

It’s going to be one hell of a night.

[readergf]

me waiting for the fall of capitalism while working

[readergf]

under observation - jack abbot x PA!reader

a/n: slow-burn! if there’s room for an assistant im finna put them in a story. this has room to grow if the masses are interested. thank you for reading even if you aren’t interested :)

tonight was your first night as a physician assistant in the emergency department of PTMC. you’d been briefed earlier in the week — two attending physicians, five residents on rotation, and the chief of emergency medicine himself floating in from time to time. it wasn’t going to be easy, but it wasn’t supposed to be. that’s what drew you here.

you smoothed down your yellow cardigan over the hospital-approved scrubs, clipped your badge with the bold red ASSISTANT tag beneath your name, and walked out onto the floor just in time for shift change.

you introduced yourself quietly, politely — always with a smile, never taking up more space than necessary. when the flurry of greetings passed, you found your place just off to the side, near the wall, and waited. clipboard in one hand, tablet tucked under the other arm, pen ready.

you’d been told to stick with dr. abbot for the night, though that would change once the team got used to having a PA around. the position was new here, met with a little curiosity — and, if you were honest with yourself, a fair bit of skepticism.

dr. abbot himself didn’t seem thrilled. he clocked you almost immediately from across the room, a sharp glance sweeping over your ID badge and that bright yellow sweater like he wasn’t sure whether you were a med student who’d wandered into the wrong department or a plant sent from upstairs.

“so… what exactly are you doing here?”

you didn’t look up right away. you focused on the clipboard, fingers adjusting your pen.

“oh, um, i’m here to chart patient interactions, monitor labs, send prescriptions to the pharmacy, and process referrals. i can answer general questions so patients don’t have to wait on you. i’ll keep out of the way. i promise. but if i’m missing anything, or the tone’s not right, just let me know. i’m here to make your life easier, dr. abbot. not harder.”

only when you finished did you meet his eyes. you were earnest, that much was clear — and young. not in only years, but also in how you approached things. careful. measured. like you knew you were walking on uncertain ground and were trying not to step too loud.

jack grunted, barely a nod. and then turned away.

the first patient arrived fifteen minutes later.

you did exactly what you said you’d do: found your place in the room but stayed quiet. you kept your head down, your pen moving steadily over the notes. jack forgot you were even there until he started barking about imaging and a calm voice answered, “patient is next in line, dr. abbot.”

his head turned slightly. not quite a double take, but he didn’t say anything. you were already scribbling again.

by the time jack sat down to catch up on charting, he found half his work already waiting for him. he blinked at the screen — no way you’d written that already. but there it was: complete, thorough, clean. better than he would’ve phrased it himself.

he kept watching.

patient after patient. your notes were on time, perfectly structured, waiting for his sign-off. you never hovered. you weren’t loud. you just… worked. with quiet efficiency and an attention to detail he wasn’t used to seeing from someone on their first night.

he was reading through a set of imaging reports when you appeared again, holding out the tablet.

“scans are back for room three. fractured ulna. radiology’s recommending surgical consult — i paged ortho already, but they’ll need a formal handover from you.” you handed him the tablet, already zoomed to the exact image he needed, and walked away.

jack blinked down at the screen. he wasn’t smiling, not quite, but something shifted in his chest.

for the first time in months, he realized, the only thing he’d really done tonight was practice medicine.

an hour later, he dropped a paper bag by your elbow without a word.

you were mid-sip of your coffee when you looked down at the brownie like it might contain anthrax. he coughed, suddenly feeling a little stupid.

“it’s not laced with anything. just… sugar. welcome to the night shift.”

you smiled, small and sheepish. “thank you. i’m usually in REM sleep right now, so this might save me.”

he found himself leaning a little closer, glancing down at the loops and swirls on your clipboard. “you trained to read hieroglyphics?”

you laughed softly, and the sound pulled at something inside him. it was light. honest.

“no, that’s my shorthand. something they taught us in school, easier to take notes if you’re not writing full sentences.” you pointed to a few symbols. “that one’s sedated intubation. this one’s full code. and that’s patient stabilized.”

jack nodded impressed. “you’re already the smartest person in the room on your first night?”

your eyes dropped, cheeks coloring. “oh — no. i’m not the one doing the procedure.”

jack didn’t say anything, but he filed that away. the way you downplayed yourself. the way you spoke with such care. someone had taught you humility like a rulebook. he made a mental note to unteach that — slowly.

“you’ll get used to nights,” he said. “valerian root tea. blackout curtains.”

your nose scrunched up adorably. “noted, thanks dr. abbot.”

later, you approached with discharge papers.

“room seven. 22-year-old with a coffee burn. dr. ellis cleared them for discharge, but i need your sign-off.”

jack took the pen from his pocket, already moving to stand when you gently held up a hand.

“oh — you don’t need to. i can handle the discharge. i’ve got privileges for that. unless… you would rather?”

he paused. studied you.

so careful not to overstep. always deferring.

“you got this one,” he said, signing the paper. “any questions, come find me.”

he wasn’t sure why, but as you walked toward the patient, jack followed, quietly, from a distance. you explained everything in a calm, even voice. scheduled the burn clinic follow-up, handed over a card with the time and address. you showed her how to reapply the cream, even pulled five samples from your cardigan pocket like it was the most natural thing in the world.

he’d never seen a discharge done with that much… care. not on a routine burn.

by the time he returned to the desk, you’d already updated his charts.

all the way to the last patient he literally just watched you discharge.

and jack couldn’t believe it, eight hours ago, he’d been annoyed at your presence. now he was wondering how he’d ever gone without someone like you.

robby showed up at the crack of dawn, squinting against the overhead lights.

“still alive?” he asked jack, eyeing the coffee in his hand.

jack smirked. “barely. but get this-”

he pulled up a chart on the computer, turning it toward robby. “febrile seizure from literally 20 minutes ago. notes were done before i even had time to sit down.”

robby whistled. “you’re saying upstairs was right about PAs?”

jack didn’t answer. he was looking over toward where you sat at the corner station, head bent low, fingers flying over your keyboard.

“she’s efficient,” robby said.

jack gave him a look. one part warning, one part something else.

“you don’t get to poach this one,” he said quietly. “she’s mine.”

[readergf]

you RBd this post which is rude because it got me thinking about being jack’s much younger sister who he’s very protective over. and you start fucking robby behind his back (after robby has a crisis of conscience about being into you of course). but his crisis doesn’t last for long cause the second he slips inside of you for the first time he can’t imagine a world where he isn’t fucking his best friends sister behind his back<3

suspend your disbelief, okay. i’m sure jack went through residency and shit on the military’s dime, but I don’t know how all that works and can’t be bothered to look it up right now.

Robby’s heard about you. Of course he has. Jack spent the better part of his emergency medicine residency doing two things: tailing Robby and talking about his little sister.

“She gets on my fucking nerves, but she’s so damn sweet. Sometimes I look at her an’ I still see that little toddler I met when our parents got together. Ya’ know?”

No. No, Robby does not know.

Especially because when he does meet you there is absolutely nothing toddler-like about you.

Though, Jack really wasn’t lying when he said you were sweet. You’ve got these sparkly eyes that get a little wide whenever Robby speaks, like you’re hanging on his every word, wondering what he’s gonna say next, and you wear these tight leggings and Jack’s old college T-shirts that are much too big for you, and when you smile your tongue presses against the back of your teeth so that Robby can see the barest amount of pink.

Cute.

Pretty.

Off-limits.

You ask Robby about work and share tidbits about what you do, still an undergrad with big plans to get into some fancy school that’s known for its biomed program.

There’s about a ten year gap between Robby and Jack and another ten years between Jack and you, so it goes without saying that Robby feels pretty fucking gross when he finds that he’s attracted to you. Very, very attracted.

On your 21st birthday, you get absolutely fucking plastered, though not as far gone as your friend who lands herself in one of the beds in Robby’s emergency department.

You’re in some short, shimmery dress that makes Robby scowl as you sway in circles where you sit, giggling at everything that comes out of Robby’s mouth whether it’s a question or an admonishment.

He places an IV so he can get you rehydrated and at least somewhat sobered up, and as he does, you stare at him with hooded eyes and crooked smile, voice slurred when you tell him, “you knoow this is like… this—the craaaz-est I’v-re everrr been… like, Robby. Rob-by. Did’jou know…? Did’jou know ‘ve neverrr ‘ven had sssex with a boyyy?”

“Jesus Christ, you’re drunk,” Robby shakes his head.

“t’s true!”

“I believe you, sweetheart.”

He really, really does not want this conversation to go any further because this is information he definitely should not know, information that definitely should not turn him on.

“Spent my whooole life stud-y… studyin’…”

“Mhm.” He’s careful as he tapes your line in place then flushes the port.

“Would’jou fuck me, Robby?” you ask point blank, and Robby actually drops his head into his hands, has to laugh.

He sort of predicted it—the question. With the way you’ve been looking at him and the not so subtle crush you’ve had on him for the last year, Robby isn’t all that surprised that liquor would loosen your tongue enough to address it.

Still, there’s no way. Jack would fucking kill him.

Because he knows you won’t remember any of this, though, Robby answers truthfully, “you know I would, babe. Gotta ask me when you’re sober, though.”

The following evening after arriving back in town from a conference, Jack thanks Robby for taking care of you.

“Fuck, I can’t imagine what she’s like drunk,” because apparently he has not had the pleasure of seeing it for himself.

Robby scratches the back of his head, eyes narrowing in a cringe when he tells him, “a fuckin’ handful, is what she is.”

Jack chuckles and claps Robby on the shoulder, full of gratitude when he thanks him again— “always knew I’d be able to count on you to look out for her.”

Look out for you. Yeah.

Jack is all full of gratitude now, but it’s only because he has no way of seeing Robby’s text messages, the thread you started earlier this afternoon.

>> I still remember what I asked you last night

>> and I remember your answer

<< Your brother would fucking murder me.

>> that’s not a no.

It’s not. It should be, but it’s not.

And because Robby is a stupid, stupid man, the last message in the thread is his home address.

[readergf]

𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 — 𝐣.𝐚.

summary: you're too young for me and this is wrong and i'm supposed to be teaching you float around jack abbot's head. but every time, knowing that he shouldn't, he still leans in to kiss you.

word count: 17.9k

tags: first year!reader (but no age mentioned + she has a stupid nickname), illicit workplace relationship, lots of guilt/we shouldn't do this (mostly from jack), yearning/pining, shea's version of slowburn and a bubbly reader and much too much dialogue, regular hospital talk/mention of injuries/death and fourth of july special scene <3 maybe out of character for the other doctors but i tried my best!, smut (fingering, orgasm denial, dirty on-call room sex, creampie because.. duh).

note: based off of the intern baking for jack during his bad week blurb, also known as i can't help myself

jack abbot stares at you, then down at the containers in his hand filled with cookies that you baked for him after he spent the better part of a week yelling at you, and then back at you. 

and then he laughs for the first time all week and wonders to himself—what the hell am i going to do with you?

because truly, you are something else. jack’s seen you in passing during day shift sign-offs at seven pm, and occasionally walking to the lockers a touch early. reflecting back, while placing the yellow tupperware into his own locker, he thinks he’s even seen you as early as six-thirty in the morning some day, if not most days.

he can’t resist—who told you about his sweet tooth, he’s not actually sure—but he opens up the lid. just like you had told him before you walked away to start your shift, the round chocolate-chip cookies don’t have any sea salt on them, not that he minds.

he bites into one and chews on it while trying to remember what else he knows about you—all that comes to mind is your teary eyes day before last when he yelled at you over something he can’t remember right now.

it hadn’t been that big of a deal—there was a patient presenting with disrupted kidney function and you hadn’t discontinued their nsaids on your initial evaluation. the solution, usually, is a stern conversation and to inform you for next time. no ibuprofen for the guy with bad kidneys, something you would have figured out in the next hour even if they hadn’t immediately caught it.

but for some reason (he knows the reason, he thinks grimly) he had yelled instead. raised his voice, caused a scene. every nurse nearby had looked up and started whispering—and he knows how the gossip goes in this place.

even ellis had intervened and dragged you away, glancing back to give him a look something akin to what the fuck, man? 

because he doesn’t yell—it’s not hardwired in him to do so. he was raised in a loud house but he’d almost looked to avoid it everywhere he went, trying his hardest to not become like his father in that way. 

the realization that he never yelled when his wife was still alive hits him like a slap to the face every time. he can’t help it, and he’s sure everyone justifies it for him. even when he’d yelled at you and you’d stood in front of him like a kicked, teary-eyed puppy, he hadn’t realized he’d done it again—taken out his frustration on the nearest thing. he’s sure that parker’s with you in some corner, telling you how he usually never yells and it’s his week from hell and you’ll see the real abbot next week. 

that doesn’t take away from the fact that he made you cry, though. 

nor does it erase the fact that you made him cookies. quite frankly, delicious cookies. maybe the best ones he’s ever had. soft and chewy and made with semisweet chocolate chips. before he realizes it, it’s seven pm sharp and he’s eaten the whole thing, shoving his go-bag into the locker carefully on top of the container you gave him and going out to join you for sign-offs.

and he doesn’t realize it either, not until you stare at him for a moment too long, garnering a cough from mckay as she tries to tell you about the patients from the chairs, the ones that you’ll be following up on and taking care of for the rest of the evening. 

there’s chocolate smudged on his fingers, and he’s licking it off, trying to pay attention to robby—who looks at him confused, and then glances at you, and turns back to jack almost… knowingly—while you’re paying attention to him.

and jack, well, everyone knows about jack’s staring thing. they call it just that—he has a problem with overdoing eye contact. he doesn’t know when he picked it up, though he’s sure it’s another one of those military attributes he pretends he doesn’t have. what he does know is that he’s always been able to tell when someone’s looking at him, like you are now.

jack turns his head just to look in your direction for a moment and he finds you already facing in his direction. your gaze quickly goes from his eyes to his fingers and then back to cassie, and he doesn’t have to be near you to know that you’re flushed.

then he stops himself—he doesn’t have any business digging around in your thoughts, wondering what exactly made you look away, was it the fact that he turned to look or that he already knew you were staring—and for the first time all night, he tries to pay attention to robby.

fuck. is this what it’s going to be like for the rest of your time on nights? resisting the urge to turn and lock eyes with you, to make sure you’re there and make sure you’re looking, even when he knows you are? 

no, no. he’s not that guy. he’s not the guy who obsesses over the nice, pretty intern and accepts her cookies when he’s the one who made her cry to begin with. 

you have a place in this hospital, and it’s to learn and grow and better yourself under his guidance, not stay nestled in his thoughts that linger somewhere between inappropriate and really inappropriate.

no, what jack wants to do is get you alone somewhere quiet so he can apologize, and make sure that you believe him. 

rarely does jack abbot get what he wants.

you’re talking with mckay still, going on about something at a mile a minute, in more of a carefree tone that he’s never been on the receiving side of. every time he’d spoken to you the previous week, he’d been angry and you’d been dejected. it’s not how teaching is supposed to be, especially not jack’s teaching. he’s always been proud of how he treats residents, how they flourish under him, how they end up liking nights like john and parker did. 

he catches the ending half of your conversation with cassie.

“-but the recipe doubles really, really easily, so if you make them and you feel like you want more, because, i mean, i made them for a bake sale once-”

“and it’s always a crowd pleaser?” cassie asks, tilting her head at you, looking as focused as jack has ever seen her. he doesn’t know the context, though he’s sure it has something to do with harrison and his school. 

you, on the other hand, are completely engrossed in the conversation. as though cassie’s son and his school’s bake sale are the most important things on the planet.

“always! it’s so good. but just make a test batch—it’s so easy. half the recipe, try it out, and then if you like it, you can use the extras to let people try it before they buy it-” you’re interrupted, parker calls out your name somewhere in the distance.

the day shift has began to filter out. robby pats jack’s shoulder firmly before muttering i’m outta here, but jack stands frozen in place, wanting for some reason, to hear the end of your conversation.

he didn’t know people could be so passionate about baked goods—but he guesses it makes sense. for you, that is.

“actually, that’s not a bad idea. you sent me the recipe already?”

“yes, i texted it. but i can email it if you want, or i-”

jack actually laughs—you’re so eager to get cassie this recipe. he thinks you have more energy right now than he’s had all day.

he hears cassie thank you, and he gets a glimpse of you beaming at her, a bright, pretty smile, before the charge nurse calls out his name and his shift really starts. 

shen jumps on with him and he sees you somewhere in the distance, probably running through your game plan for some patient in the chairs with ellis. you smile brightly at her too, and for the first time in a long time, jack has a thought that he deems in the category of uncontrollable. 

he’s a disciplined guy, always has been. thoughts don’t consume him like wildfire, rather they run through a series of checks and balances before he even fully thinks them. last week his system had been all off, leading to you getting yelled at in the first place, and right now, the whole thing seems like it’s gone haywire, focused on one thing in particular.

what does he have to do to get you to smile at him like that?

+

the night shift is a place of routine. jack wants to get you on a trauma with him, wants to show you what he’s like when he’s of sound mind and not thinking about how last week, a couple of years ago, he had the worst day of his life. and then a couple years before that, another worst day of his life. 

he has an overpowering urge to show you what he’s like on a normal week. he can even picture it in his head—handing you gloves and asking you questions that help you run the trauma, to get you in the habit of approaching the cases like he does. the questions are to make you believe in yourself—if you know the answers, you could have run this whole thing by yourself. if you get something wrong or don’t know, he throws in an easier one next time. 

you might be a little worried at first but you’d get the hang of it. and then, after the patient was stable and he got to tell you good job, you’d do it. smile at him, beam up at him like you’ve been doing to the others. the kind that makes your eyes light up, makes little lines crinkle in the corners of your face, lets him see your lips—well, that’s not important.

what is important is that you realize that jack abbot is there to help you, not to make things worse. that’s the side of him he wants you to see.

but unfortunately, the night shift is a place of routine. interns are on chairs, getting every move double-checked by a senior resident. there’s enough hands on the day shift to allow first years to jump on every incoming but nights are not nearly as well distributed.

so, you and jack fall into a routine—you both show up early for your shifts, walk to the lockers together in silence. sometimes you stare and he catches you, and other times you catch him. you think about asking him what he thought about the cookies, or if you can get your tupperware back, but then you stay silent and head out into the chaos.

one day at six forty-five, he sees you looking at him while mel is trying to tell you something that you are decidedly not paying attention to. after he looks your way, you turn back to her and start profusely apologizing.

he turns back to robby, missing half of what he said. 

“you okay?” robby asks, gaze flickering towards jack, and then back at you, somewhere in the distance. jack nods. “how’s she been doing?”

he doesn’t have to say your name for jack to know who he’s talking about.

“fine. good. i haven’t gotten much of a chance to teach her, so-”

“right. teach.” robby says it and looks at jack differently—as if he’s amused. 

“what?” jack snaps, suddenly irritated by the line of questioning.

“nothing. this week’s probably gonna be her last on nights, just so you know.” before jack can respond, robby puts his hands up in defense. “don’t shoot the messenger. apparently we’re supposed to be cycling interns and r-twos so they all get to experience nights. something about equality and fairness. i don’t know but you can read the memo.”

“fairness?” jack grumbles, though it’s mostly to himself. he’s annoyed, and he knows why, and he doesn’t like the reason why. “they used to put us on nights for three months at a time and the only memo i ever got was too bad.” 

“careful, jack,” robby says, a little too sing-songy for his current mood. “you keep talking like that and she’s gonna think you’re an old grump.”

jack glares up at robby, wanting to reply but nothing biting comes to mind. 

“you have a good night, jack,” robby says and jack mutters back a yeah, yeah. he turns to watch robby leave, but somehow, his gaze still ends up back on you, like it always does. it’s harder still throughout the course of the night, nerves somehow taking over him every time he wants to tell you to drop whatever patient’s hand you’re stitching and jump on this trauma with him. 

the vision he’s been chasing, aimlessly at that, seems further and further away as the hours pass each night. your shift is filled with first degree burns and sprained ankles and kind-of, sort-of allergic reactions, when it should be spent by his side, learning everything he has to offer you before you’re back with the day shift.

because that’s why he’s so invested in making sure you’re on a trauma with him—because of how much he has to teach. parker and john haven’t said a bad thing about you, and even the day crew during passing exchanges—nothing besides wondering how you have so much energy at seven am without a cup of coffee in your system. 

that is why he’s so invested—right?

on your last shift of nights for this block, you show up a little extra early. you think you can avoid jack by doing so, but he comes early too, wanting to catch you alone, if just for a moment. 

you walk with your hands filled with more tupperware that he recognizes. the very same containers are sitting on his countertop right now, the contents mostly eaten. he doesn’t want to finish the last of your cookies even though they’ll get stale soon. and why that is, he pretends to not know the answer.

he follows you into the break room at six twenty-five while you open the lids and set out napkins. 

“oh,” you say, surprised when you hear the door click behind you. you didn’t think anyone would have noticed you sneaking in there. “dr. abbot-”

“listen, kid, i need to-” jack’s eyes, without intending to, fall from your confused expression to the table in the room. you have more cookies—maybe snickerdoodle—in the containers. “what’s this for?”

“it’s my last day on nights.”

“so you made cookies?”

“it’s to thank everyone,” you ramble on, like you have to justify the idea to jack. “for being so patient with me. interns are already so annoying and then on top of that when they’re not sleeping. i just thought it would be nice. and there’s no nuts or chocolate so it’s more allergy friendly, you know. i-i’m gonna stop talking now.”

“no-” he says, too quickly, and you look just as confused as ever. your eyebrows knit and your mouth opens a bit and he stares at you, while you stare at him. in fact, jack wishes you wouldn’t look at him like this—cute and confused and too nice for your own good. “no, i mean-” 

what does he mean? what he really wants to say is please don’t stop talking, but all that comes out is—

“that’s…nice. i’m sure they’ll appreciate it. and interns, well, they’re supposed to be annoying. that’s how you learn.” jack pauses, thinking he’s done well, that this is a good place to stop. “not that you’re annoying, that’s not what i-”

“thank you, dr. abbot,” you supply, smiling at him. and god, if it isn’t exactly how he thought it’d be—your bright smile feels like it sends a halo of warmth over the person you’re looking at, and this time, it’s lucky him. your face changes too, the confusion and concern melt away and are replaced with sheer joy, like you’re thankful for every bumbling word in a fairly awkward conversation. 

he’s never been like this, he thinks, or maybe the confidence that surged through him during every trauma had nestled somewhere permanently, constantly hitched along into his real life. he’s never considered himself a don juan but he’s not a stranger to women either—and he certainly doesn’t stutter through sentences and backtrack because he’s worried he’s offended you. that doesn’t happen to him. it’s never happened to him.

but he supposes, taking in how you smile with your entire face and what else he can do to get you to stay smiling, that there’s a first time for everything.

“you were saying something? when you came in?” you ask.

“yes, uh-” 

damn it. what was he saying? he can’t remember. it’s distracting—you, the cookies, your radiant smile, all of it. especially when he thinks about a week ago today, when you were standing in front of him with your wet eyes and wobbly chin, when he was angry about something he can’t even piece together right now. right—the apology. 

“i just wanted to apologize for my behavior last week. i-i hope you-”

but before he can finish the sentence the door opens. it’s dana.

“jack, robby’s asking for you. three incoming mvc’s and mckay left early for something with her son and no one else is here yet, and-” she stops, glancing between you, jack, and the cookies on the table. “hey, kid. you jumping in?” 

you glance to jack when dana asks that, big eyes staring at him for permission. you really shouldn’t have done that, because he thinks you’re only making all the rest of this much worse, whatever he’s been pushing down and burying for the last week that seems determined to hit the surface today. 

“tell him we’re coming,” jack says, and though he had more to say to you, he has to stop for now. on the walk to the trauma bay, jack recaps how he runs through traumas with you. he ties your gown while you pull gloves in his size, and then the ones in your size.

when you hand him the gloves, he gets a look into your eyes—pretty, nervous, excited. in that order.

“what do we have?” jack asks, and trail behind him momentarily, taking a big breath before walking out and following him into the trauma bay. robby jumps on the first ambulance with heather and leaves the second to you and jack. you see frank and mel walking towards the third one, still driving up.

the paramedic starts rattling off the vitals and the patient keeps speaking over him, thrashing up and trying to crane her neck despite the c-spine collar wrapped around it. 

you know what you’re trained to do in these situations—listen to ems, treat the patient, figure out what she keeps interrupting for after you’re positive that she’s not going to die on your table. but some part of you just can’t let it sit like that. you can’t stand when someone thinks you’ve ignored a part of their sentence, much less ignore them entirely.

“wait, wait,” you tell the paramedic as they’re wheeling the gurney into one of the trauma rooms. all around you, the nurses have started their work, setting up iv’s and rolling in portable x-rays. they set aside blood and wait by the phone to call for the surgical consult or to clear up ct as soon as you and jack decide the patient needs one.

“excuse me?” he replies, turning to look at jack with an expression that asks are we listening to her? and even jack looks at you a little confused while you get closer to the patient, until you’re in her line of sight and she stops moving so much. the noise around you will never fully go quiet, but it dims down for thirty seconds.

“you have to stop moving so much, ma’am. what are you trying to say?”

“i really think we should-” the paramedic interjects, but you snap your head towards him, trying to figure out how to say shut up without really saying it.

“can you please, just give me a second?”

“my daughter, my daughter, she’s hurt, please-” she responds, not thrashing anymore, just crying.

jack looks between you and the patient for a moment. this case is surgical—she practically went through the windshield. there’s glass that needs to be removed, a concussion, possibly a chest tube, and an airway if she crashes. 

“you guys need hands in here?” you hear trinity ask from somewhere behind you.

jack knows you have a choice here, and he thinks, for a moment, you’ll tell her to find the daughter while you finish this trauma with him. it’s for your own learning, your education. it’s to show you what the some of the worst outcomes from car accidents look like, things to check for in the future even if your patient looks fine.

“i’m gonna find your daughter, okay? but i need you to stop moving so they can take care of you. because she needs her mom, too.” you turn to santos, and trinity jumps in while you walk out. jack catches one glimpse of you before turning to his patient, laying still and compliant, crying silently. 

an hour later, most of the day shift has gone home. trinity even stops at bed 19 where you’re suturing the little girl’s arm while she drinks a juice box and waits for a head ct in case she has a concussion too. 

“when is it gonna be my turn on nights? abbot is so cool. i put in the chest tube and got to bring her up to surgery.”

you get an uneasy feeling in your chest thinking about someone else on nights with jack in your position—not the yelling, but rather the apology he never got to finish. how sincerely he looked at you when you left to find the daughter instead of finishing up with your patient—maybe it was a mistake. maybe he’ll be upset with you, but it doesn’t matter, since it’s your last shift, anyways.

“and those cookies are fantastic. alright, thanks bubbles. i’ll see you back on days.”

“bubbles? wait, those cookies weren’t for you-” you call out after her, but she walks away without responding. you turn back to the little girl.

“there’s cookies?”

“yes,” you sigh, taking your seat again. her arm is nearly done, just needs a bandage. dad is on his way, the social worker is informed, and someone should be coming over to take over to watch her until ct is ready. “i can give you one after your dad gets here, if he’s okay with it. but for now you have to rest.”

she asks you if her mom is going to be okay, and in truth, you don’t know the answer. you should, but you don’t. you excuse yourself when one of the nurses gets there to monitor her, and try to find parker so you can move onto the next. 

jack must be in another trauma, because you don’t see him anywhere and though you’re not eager to get yelled at again, you do need to finish the conversation from earlier.

and you need your tupperware back.

you end up seeing six patients, getting four of them ready to be sent home and two waiting for beds upstairs and consults that are taking far too long. parker pulls you aside while she chews on one of your snickerdoodles.

“can you do nights more often? these cookies are great, bubbles.” 

“okay, when did this catch on? i know trinity likes her nicknames but this is the first time i’ve heard it. also, what the hell does it even mean?”

parker looks at you with a tilt of her head.

“seriously?”

“bubbles? maybe something like, i don’t know, crybaby, i would have understood.” you pause, hesitating, and then glancing up from the screen you’ve been staring at, your half-assed attempt at a proper note. “wait, how long has she been calling me that?”

“since your first day. but it doesn’t sound like nearly as much of an insult as it used to.”

at least parker will give it to you straight.

“can i ask you something? about dr. abbot?” you don’t know where the surge of confidence comes from, but you think you need to ride the wave to some answers before your shift ends. you glance at your watch while parker does the same. almost midnight.

“i’ll give you five minutes. by the way, he was in the break room if you want to ask him directly.”

“really?

“yeah. shoveling down cookies. you’re gonna give him pre-diabetes.”

“really?” and it’s hard to hide your smile, entire face lighting up. “it’s my favorite recipe. well, second favorite, i guess. my roommate in medical school had a nut allergy so i always made snickerdoodles for her, but those brownies i made for him are probably are my actual favorite-”

parker’s expression changes.

“you made him brownies?”

“yeah?” fuck. “it-it was to apologize. for last week, the nsaids thing.”

“he yelled at you.” she pauses, staring at you a little more quizzically. “he made you cry.”

“he was having a bad week?” you offer sheepishly. 

“right.” another pause. “what was your question?”

“i don’t remember. i’m gonna go see a patient now.” you save the contents of your note and decide to finish it later, during the three am lull with a hot cup of coffee and a cookie if there’s any left.

your question was going to be disguised with a ramble of some sort, asking ellis if she thinks jack abbot is the type to apologize for yelling at her or if there was something else he was going to tell her before those traumas came rolling in.

but lucky for you, you get your answer. four am, in the break room, running a little late on finishing your notes, behind on a schedule that you had invented in your own head. the last patient you saw had been really frightened of the hospital, as well as a language barrier that you had to wait thirty minutes to find a translator for at this hour.

you need a coffee, a cookie, and a computer to finish your notes. and then you need to leave the night shift and not be stuck in the hospital with jack abbot for twelve hours.

though there’s a smile on your face when you open the door, at the very idea that jack liked your snickerdoodles enough to shovel them down, or whatever parker had said. you look up and your smile gets replaced with surprise at the man standing in front of you.

it’s mental beetlejuice, or something. every time you think about him, boom, there he is. facing the counter, pouring black coffee into his steel gray tumbler.

“oh. hi.” how can you be so shocked that he’s in here? it’s four am with no incomings and it’s really not that big of a department. you passed the other two doctors on with you on the walk here—parker at central talking to a nurse and shen at a computer eating a granola bar.

“hey, kid. coffee? just made a pot.”

“yes, please.” you walk over, fetching your yellow mug from the cabinet. you glance at the table—your containers empty save for the crumbs of cinnamon sugar on the bottom. “was gonna have a cookie too. i should have made more.” jack pours you a cup and then hands you the creamer and the sugar. you notice that his own coffee is drunk just black though.

“it’s john, i’m telling you. he’s got a sweet tooth worse than mine. and don’t let parker fool you. i saw her in here three times tonight.” jack takes a seat in one of the chairs, but first he pulls one out for you.

you sit down and smile, laughing at his comment.

“well, she said that you were in here shoveling them down, so, i don’t know who to believe.”

“she said that?” you nod, taking a sip of your sweet coffee.

the coffee in the break room is notorious for being just fine. it’s never great, or even just good, it’s just fuel. but it tastes a lot better today.

“i’m gonna plead the fifth on that one.” 

you laugh again. you look over, realizing there’s one cookie left in the container.

“one left. but you can have it,” you say, the caffeine and this conversation doing wonders for your energy levels. “i had a bunch at home earlier today and i make them all the time, so-”

“nah, kid. we’ll split it.” jack breaks it in half and slides it towards you on a napkin, and you smile at him again—warm, generous, compassionate. 

a lot of big words to describe the smile of a resident he just got to know better this week, but he can’t turn it off. the radar in his head alerting him that the person he’s been thinking about for hours is sitting in front of him now, nibbling on half a cookie.

“that was a nice thing you did, earlier. with the mom and the daughter. she was completely compliant after.”

“i figured. i can’t believe the paramedic didn’t listen to her the whole ride in, though.” you take another sip of coffee before putting your mug down on the table. “not that he did something wrong. i know he was trying to help and they’re trained to focus on the patient and all that. but she was moving around in a c-collar, so i figured-well, i’ll stop rambling. they said the surgery went good so that’s all that matters, i guess.” you go quiet, taking another bite just so you stop yourself from talking too much again.

“both things can be true. he should have listened and he did his job. how’s the daughter?”

“good, good. i gave her stitches and she had some minor cuts. i think the mom thought she was bleeding a lot worse. dad’s with her, so…” 

“you had the chance to jump on the trauma but you left to take care of the kid.” jack doesn’t say it with any sort of tone, presents it to you plainly, like a statement.

“is this the part where you’re gonna yell at me?” you blink up at him, worried again.

“no, no. i just-” he pauses, thinking about his words carefully. he smiles, like he’s about to laugh. “it’s just the sort of thing i can’t teach, so-”

there’s a knock on the door, and you audibly sigh. is it the worst thing in the world to ask for some privacy for five minutes in this place, to be able to finish a conversation with your attending for once?

it’s john.

“incoming. three minutes out. aw, man, are those the last of the cookies?”

you do get to jump on the case with shen and abbot, though the man isn’t in bad condition at all. took a spill on his kid’s toys and bruised his tailbone, but his wife called for an ambulance. he waits for a head ct and x-ray and the room clears out, and you wonder if you’ll get a chance to finish out your conversation with jack abbot.

you don’t.

he stays behind to tell robby something and parker and john usher you out for a celebratory latte—decaf, obviously—to finish your first small taste of nights. you carry your empty containers in the tote bag you brought them in, and realize you didn’t even get a chance to tell him to bring your containers back.

(whether you want the containers or an excuse to talk to him again, you don’t know. it’s a can of worms not worth opening now that nights are done—though you’re sure he must have finished the contents by now. the idea of your yellow tupperware sitting on his counter or his kitchen table, well… it leads your mind to wonder about other things.

what does his place look like? did he sit on his couch with brownies and farmer needs a wife, like you had suggested? what about in his bed? jack doesn’t seem the type to have a television in his bedroom, or the type to eat in bed, though sometimes you’ll make an exception for dessert, and maybe he can be convinced.

and then you cut the entire thought out of your head, because it’s downright unprofessional and you have no business spending time wondering about his bed or his couch or anything else. stupid tupperware. and what’s even worse is going home with the realization you might not get to find out what jack was going to say to you in the break room, either time.)

+

if you ask a hundred emergency room doctors what the worst day of the year is, you’ll get a hundred different answers. halloween, thanksgiving, and new year’s are all up there. 

but jack abbot’s answer has never changed—fourth of july. 

a day littered with sunshine, grilling, and sparklers. to any emergency medicine specialist, it’s more about sun-poisoning, choking on hot dogs, and burn injuries from at-home fireworks. the hospital is flooded with back-to-back traumas, ranging from people passing out at the beach in the afternoon to full body burns by the evening.

you had always predicted the worst part is how a lot of the injuries are on children. they’re the ones left unattended while mom and dad drink themselves silly or let them play with firecrackers on the pavement, assuming they’ll be fine. you’ve done two emergency medicine rotations in school and you think you know what the fourth will be like, that you’ll be unnerved the entire day by the sound of crying children and trying to hold back anger on the irresponsible parents.

but walking through the doors of the hospital on your second week back on days, you realize you really don’t know much. 

like, for example, that jack abbot walks in beside you and mel at six forty-five. you look at him confused, and then turn to mel, who doesn’t match your expression but is also confused, you’re sure. jack is quick by the lockers—takes off his backpack and heads straight back out. 

mel speaks up first.

“i didn’t know dr. abbot does days,” she says, taking off her jacket and folding it neatly. 

“i didn’t either. do you know why?” it’s really an unnecessary question—it shouldn’t matter to you at all. but it does, and you’re terrible at burying things. it’s written all over your face that you want to know the answer why.

“well it’s likely just for overflow. i’m sure they’re expecting double the amount of patients today.”

“right. yeah, that makes sense.” 

“though it is surprising-”

“what is?”

“-that he didn’t take the day off, i suppose.”

“why’s that?” you ask, and mel shrugs.

“fourth of july is a usually tough day for a lot of veterans. when i was at the va hospital, some of the other doctors who had served would stay at home with their families. and the noise from the fireworks, too-”

mel goes on, but you have a hard time paying attention to the rest of her story. one thought washes over you, filling you with enough dread to last all day, making your blood feel icy cold in your veins. jack doesn’t have any family to spend the day with at home, so instead he’s here for the day shift, to help with the extra patients.

“i hadn’t thought about that.” you say quietly. you put your stethoscope around your neck and hold the familiar container in your hands.

“that’s okay, a lot of people don’t. i don’t think i did before my year there. wait, are those more cookies?”

it seems that robby shares some of your dread. you head out with mel, putting the star shaped sugar cookies with red and blue frosting in the break room. during sign-offs you tell parker and john to grab a few—just a few! leave some for the rest of us—before they head home. you smile politely at frank, who seems very concerned with making sure mel knows how hectic this holiday gets in the pitt and ask cassie how that bake sale went.

and then robby pulls you aside, leading you in front of central.

“i brought sugar cookies, i hope that’s okay. is something wrong?” you ask, gauging how robby is looking at you right now.

“yeah, everything’s fine.” he looks around distractedly, or maybe like he’s trying to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “listen, i know you just got back from nights-”

“are you sending me back? to nights?”

“what? no, no, we need you on days. i mean, you just finished nights and you were with abbot for a bit. how’d that go, by the way?”

“dr. abbot?”

“nights.”

“oh,” you say, feeling yourself flush. warmth spreads over you despite how cold it runs in the hospital. flustered, you continue. “it was good. um, busy and i learned a lot.”

“and you got to spend some time working with abbot, right?”

“yeah. some-uh, yes. i did.”

“great. because today is a bit of a weird day for him. he’s not used to days and we get overwhelmed pretty quickly. he’s here to help and it’s always great to have extra hands, especially his hands, but-” you zone out for a moment at the thought of jack’s hands. “-he seems a bit off and i want to make sure he’s doing okay, and he’ll just ignore me if i ask. so if you could—?”

robby trails off and you stare at him blankly, blinking after fifteen seconds of silence.

“if i could what?”

“just, check on him, y’know, throughout the day. just make sure he’s alright. thanks a ton kid, i knew i could count on you.” 

“wait, what-” but then robby is gone, and you’re left at central with dana behind you, handing you a tablet with a patient’s name on it and somewhere to your left is jack, immersed in a conversation with heather. you stare at him, and the he notices you looking, and looks back.

any other day, you’d turn and go straight to your patient, but not today.

today your attending has given you a task—check in on jack. make sure jack’s okay. and you are not the type of person to disappoint your superior.

you walk over to them, smile at both, and then watch as heather excuses herself. had robby told her about the task he’d assigned you?

“hey, kid. don’t tell me—america themed cookies?” 

you shirk under his gaze, the idea that felt very cute last night suddenly seeming exceedingly corny.

“it’s just festive,” you argue. “the frosting is made with blueberries and strawberries instead of food coloring. it’s healthier, i mean, it’s practically like eating fruit.”

“i don’t think you’re winning that argument, but sure, whatever you say. if parker and john left any for the rest of us.”

“i made a bunch this time. i figured there’d be more hands on deck today, i guess.”

(you hadn’t figured that. your logic with doubling the recipe and yielding twice as many cookies was that maybe there’d be some leftover for the night shift to take home with them—specifically one salt and pepper attending who already has two containers of yours at his home. what’s a third?)

“smart. we’ll need them. it’s gonna be a busy day.”

“that’s what i’ve heard,” you look up at jack again with a small smile—trying to disarm him without alerting him of your motive from robby. “how are you feeling, by the way?”

jack knits his eyebrows together.

“how am i feeling?”

“are you okay? do-do you need anything? i can go get you a cookie now, if you want, before they’re all gone. it’s not just the night shift, you know, trinity plows through them. and mel doesn’t have as much of a sweet tooth but since it has the fruit frosting, you know, i think she’ll like them.”

jack looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes, like he’s holding back a laugh, stopping it short at just a smile.

“i’m, i’m fine, kid. and that’s alright, i’ll go get one in a bit.”

“oh. okay. well that’s good.”

“are you okay?”

“yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” you lock eyes with him again.

“no reason. well, maybe we can go get that-”

“dr. abbot?” someone says, and you hold back the groan. it’s getting harder and harder to keep it inside. 

the people in this hospital really don’t want you to finish a conversation with your attending.

“yeah?”

he gets pulled up, and you do too—back to the chairs. it’s the usual residual patients from last night, but as the hours pass, you get more injuries related to the holiday. the allergic reactions and sprained wrists turn into burns from the grill and heat exhaustion. 

you find jack three more times in between seven patients—asking him he’s okay, how his patients are, if he wants that cookie now, or maybe water? all these people are dehydrated, it’s no good if their doctors are too, right? 

the next time you do it, he locks eyes with robby right after. you sneak your way past moving gurneys and crying patients, just to tap his shoulder and check in one last time before you sit down to debride a severe burn, one that’ll have you gone for at least an hour. 

“what the hell did you do, robby?” he asks, while they monitor a man who came in on the ambulance after setting half his body on fire trying to grill hot dogs.

“what do you mean? nothing.”

“that kid has-”

“did you try those cookies? they’re fantastic. no wonder you want her back on nights.”

maybe another two hours later, during a surge of ambulances, you realize you haven’t seen jack in a while. 

you pat your patient on the shoulder—a little girl with her mom who took a spill on the pavement while chasing her sister—and tell them you’ll send the nurse over with their discharge papers, and set out to find jack before sitting down with yet another burn—your tenth or so at least so far today. you close the curtain and look at the chaos in front of you—gurneys lined up against walls, patients crying and the entire place smelling of burnt flesh and salt water. 

dr. abbot is by the trauma bay, organizing patients as they come, and the whole thing feels more like a triage unit than it does an emergency room. 

you see trinity seeing the others from the chairs, heather jumping onto an incoming with robby. mel and frank are in one trauma room and jack is standing in the middle of everything.

is it the best time to ask him how he’s doing? no. that much is clear to anyone with a functioning frontal lobe.

but you are not just anyone, you’re you. you get slightly muddled in the head when it comes to jack abbot, and you definitely are not going to disappoint robby when he put you in charge of checking in on him.

you weave your way through the floor, avoiding nurses walking through with supplies in their hands and telling whoever you were supposed to be checking in with that you’ll be right back.

you dodge two gurneys that almost took your knees out just to get close enough to say his name and for him to hear you. you don’t see the one rolling right behind you.

“dr. abbot, are-” you’re interrupted by the sound of your own yelp, when jack reaches out to clasp his hand around your arm. he yanks you hard, pulling you out of the way, and suddenly, all the noises of the emergency room die down.

you hear the paramedic behind you, apologizing as he wheels the gurney out and back to the ambulance bay. you hear dana shouting from central to you—watch out, kid!—and even the wails coming from the trauma room robby and heather are in—a woman crying. 

but you don’t really hear any of it. your eyes are locked on jack’s hazel ones, his fingers still tight against your bare skin. his hands are softer than you’d imagined.

you blink at him stupidly, mouth falling open a little. you must look as dumb as you feel, almost getting hit by a gurney in the middle of a very busy shift. it’s like intern 101—things to avoid doing, especially in front of your attendings.

but jack doesn’t seem mad. he looks at you with concerned, pretty eyes, a focused expression. and then, at the same time—

“are you okay?” 

you both stare at each other for a while. you must look the equivalent of someone starstruck, staring with sparkling eyes, looking almost as grateful for him as you feel. that gurney would have taken you out of commission—at the very least you’d hit your head and be filling out paperwork under gloria’s watchful eye. 

but you’re fine, save for a large bruise forming on your upper arm with each second that passes by as you continue stare at jack.

“you two!” dana shouts over the other commotion, effectively snapping you out of it. all the noises return at once, making you wince, and what’s worse is that people are staring. “incoming, two minutes out. the rest of you, back to work-”

“come on, kid. you’re with me.”

you most certainly are.

+

at around quarter past eight on the fourth of july, you’re seated across from jack abbot at his favorite twenty-four hour diner. 

well, to be fair, you’re making more assumptions in the thirty minutes you’ve been sitting here with him than you have for the entire time you’ve know him. first—that this is his favorite diner. second—that he’s as interested in you as you are in him. and third—that you’ll finally get to finish the multiple conversations you’ve started with him and been unable to finish due to interruptions.

but there’s no interruptions here. post dinner rush, with a group of teenagers a few tables away and a couple in business clothes eating on the stools by the counter. there’s no nosy residents or gossipy nurses or incoming traumas. it’s just starting to get dark out, and you know the fireworks will start soon.

what you don’t know is if jack is going to be completely okay tonight. you don't care if you’re a temporary distraction from the noise, but you do care if you’ll be enough of a distraction for him.

the two of you order enough food to feed the entirety of the night shift at the hospital right now. the short staffing is the reason why you didn’t sit down to eat until seven forty-five, but it’s fine. as long as you’re here with him now.

you justify it mentally while jack steals one of your french fries—the ones he said he didn’t want half of when you asked—that you just need to finish the conversations from earlier. that it’s not wrong or inherently bad to order half the menu with your attending, one that was responsible for all of your anxiety three weeks ago. 

but staring at him like this, you wonder what you had been so worried about. in fact, over the last few weeks, you’ve realized he’s nothing like what you thought at first. 

“okay, i know this must be sound terrible,” you start, setting down your soda and reaching for another salty fry. “but that was amazing. like, the thrilling kind of amazing. does that make sense?” you stare at jack while you await his response.

“yes, it makes sense,” he says, but he can’t contain the laugh anymore. it comes out from his chest—unadulterated laughter, the rumble taking over his entire body.

“you’re laughing at me?” you ask, though you don’t actually seem upset about it. it’s hard to feel any sort of upset when you’re listening to what may be your new favorite sound in the world.

“no, no, i promise i’m not. you’re just so… you. even on a day like today.”

“what does that mean?” you reply quickly, sitting up straighter in your seat, expression turning deadly serious. “god, i’m so sorry. is that completely insensitive? i know it can be a hard day, i mean, well i didn’t know know. but mel brought it up this morning when we saw you and then robby told me to check on you and i thought i was helping until that stupid gurney almost took me out. but i just meant after that! the traumas and doing them with you. i-i hadn’t done any yet, with you, so i-” 

“when do you breathe?”

“sorry,” you sigh. “it’s a bad habit.”

“don’t apologize to me, please. it’s-” jack goes quiet, his mind searching to fill in the blank but coming up empty. 

it’s nice, he thinks. sweet. refreshing. funny. you’re all of those things and more. you don’t bite your tongue and hold back thoughts. you ramble until he can step into your thoughts completely—see it from your perspective like he’s inside your brain.

and jack—well, jack has friends. army buddies, guys he used to study with during medical school, a couple people from his residency that he stays in touch with. he has robby, though his friendship with him is going to be on thin ice after what he put you up to earlier, and dana. his parents are gone and so are his in-laws but he calls his sister when he really needs to talk about something and he checks in with his wife’s siblings once or twice a year, usually around the anniversary of her death.

(he hadn’t done it a few weeks ago, though, and he has trouble figuring out if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. but then he stares up at you, sipping your drink, patiently waiting for him to finish his sentence, before you, undoubtedly, ask him if he’s okay again. like if he tells you that he’s not—because really, he’s not—that you’ll make it your personal mission to make sure that he is. and that, well, what is he supposed to do with that?)

luckily the waitress interrupts the silence with the rest of the food—grilled cheese and waffles and whatever else sounded appealing in a hunger-driven craze—and he doesn’t have to finish the thought.

you two do talk about other things—how he’s sorry about yelling that week and how you completely didn’t deserve it. you tell him it’s fine and that he had a bad week and that you’re not upset, that it would feel wrong to hold that against him. he tells you about how good the brownies and the cookies were, and you beam at him with that smile again.

the conversations ebbs and flows—how it was nice of you to take care of that woman’s daughter. how great you did in the traumas today. how stupid robby is for asking you to check in on him—don’t listen to him ever again, just, come to me first next time. 

and then once the food is eaten and your drinks run empty, and the sound of fireworks is littering your eardrums, you just say it.

“i don’t think you should be alone tonight.”

“i’ve spent lots of july fourths alone, kid. i’ll be fine.”

he probably will be fine. he has noise cancelling headphones and though his apartment is close to the park where the fireworks are held—an oversight he didn’t think of when he moved in—he can distract himself enough to get through the night. he’s been doing it for years—taking care of himself when it comes to things like this.

“no, i-i know you will be. i just don’t think you should be alone.”

and then, for a split second, the force of your caring, of your affection for him hits him like a blow. it rushes over him—the feeling of how easy it might be to let you take care of him. to let someone else do it for once. reality seeps back in slowly, bringing his senses back one by one.

the first thing it does is remind him that you’re an intern.

“kid,” jack says firmly, sitting up straighter in the booth. he rests his elbows against the table, staring straight at you, boring into your soul like he always does. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“why not?”

“well, for one, i’m your attending.”

“oh, who cares about stuff like that? it’s not like i’m gonna tell anyone,” you reply, as though the words had come to you quickly, like you really believed them. 

as if you’d already put some thought into your response before he’d asked you the question.

you don’t seem the least bit hesitant about basically telling him to spend the night with you—whatever that might mean to you. he doesn’t want to assume things, but it’s been a while since he’s done something like this. he doesn’t know what’s changed in the last decade and he certainly has never done something like this with a resident, much less an intern.

the whole thing is seeming much too bill clinton to him. he wants to express the thought to you, though it doesn’t make much sense—he’s not married and he’s not the president but you’re an intern and he was raised right so it feels wrong—and then he realizes it quickly. are you even old enough to remember that scandal? he shakes his head, as though he can dispel the thought by physically removing it.

“i care about stuff like that. there’s a power imbalance here, and-”

“i’m not even on nights anymore!”

“but you will be on nights again in the future. in a few months from now, when you’re a second year. you’ll do a whole month of nights in third year, too.” 

your lips curve up into a playful smile.

“getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?”

“kid-”

“i said you shouldn’t spend tonight alone. you’re thinking three years ahead. i mean, don’t get me wrong, jack, i’m totally flattered, but i think you should scale it down. one day at a time and all that.” his expression changes and so does yours—it’s the first time you’ve ever called him anything other than dr. abbot. “i’m sorry. is that completely unprofessional? oh my god, am i one of those people? is that harassment?” you whisper the last part, as though you’re worried he’ll leave to report you this instant.

jack wants to bang his head against the table. he thinks, not for the first time and certainly not for the last time about what he’s going to do with you. 

the waitress brings the check and he places his card in her hand before you can so much as glance at it.

“i… i just meant that, i think it’s a bad idea if you spend tonight alone. we can watch a movie or make cookies or whatever you want to do. it’s just-” you trail off, suddenly quiet.

“it’s just what?”

“if we both go home alone, i’m just gonna spend the whole time worrying about you, anyways. might as well worry about you while i’m sitting next to you.” you stare at the table the whole time you say it, and then your gaze flickers up at him before looking back down quickly. “that must sound crazy. i’m sorry-”

“stop apologizing to me, kid.” 

it’s hard on a regular day to resist the urge to listen to everything you say, to comply since he knows how good you are. made of a kind of sweetness that he really doesn’t know the first thing about—how you got to be this way, with an abundance of compassion, enough to make him feel like he’ll explode from the sheer strength of it.

what jack does know is that he wants to find out.

you both get up, and you put on your pullover from what can only be your alma mater, grabbing the containers you’d brought into the break room this morning. he swings on his backpack and you both walk outside. it’s dark now, and you can hear fireworks somewhere in the distance. the noise is loud and uncomfortable even to you, and you briefly wonder how it might sound to jack, and decide again that you really, really don’t want him to be alone tonight.

“listen, kid. i don’t want you to waste your night worrying about me. you should-”

“oh, trust me, it’s not a waste. i have an ulterior motive for wanting to go back to your place,” you say, nodding when jack tilts his head at you in confusion, wondering if he’ll bite.

“yeah? and what’s that?”

“i need my tupperware back.”

+

your back thuds against the wall beside jack abbot’s apartment door. you’ve never been here but you try to blink open your eyes to take it in, to see if it’s just as you thought it’d be while his lips—soft and wanton and kissing you—stay against yours.

it’s stupid—why are you worried about his apartment when your attending is kissing you like you belong to him? but then you remember something frank had once told you during your first week, something about adhd and how all of you probably have it, and then you start giggling against jack abbot’s lips.

his fingertips, which were brushing against the skin of your waist after sneaking under your shirt, tighten around the soft skin there. you can feel them digging in, but stupidly, deliriously, and a little light headed, you wonder if you’ll bruise if he pushes hard enough.

“y’know, kid,” he mumbles against your mouth, pulling away for just a second. his breath is hot against your lips and his touch makes goosebumps rise all over you, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up tall. “i haven’t done this in a while but if you’re laughing, i must be doing something wrong.”

you should say something, say anything, so he stops talking and keeps kissing you, but nothing comes out besides another laugh. 

“i’m sorry,” you say, trying to catch your breath while jack’s hands hover over your hips. “i-” you glance up to lock eyes again, but when you see the way he’s looking at you, you stop laughing completely. 

“if you’re uncomfortable, we can stop. you don’t have to-”

“no! no, i’m not uncomfortable. i-i’m laughing because this is so funny. you’re my attending and now we’re kissing and i’m in your apartment and it looks, exactly how i pictured it. and you’re so nice to me, but it’s the fourth of july and i want to make sure you’re okay because-” 

jack interrupts you with another kiss, his lips pressing against yours. this time he doesn’t let up, his tongue slipping into your mouth while you collapse against the wall, knees suddenly very weak.

but it’s alright, because jack’s got you. he holds you up by your hips and your legs mindlessly wrap around him, his hands going to your ass to hoist you up and secure you around him. he lifts you up and starts walking, and you whine against him, impatient and fairly comfortable where you were.

it’s like he’s a mind reader.

“our first time is not going to be against a wall,” he mutters, mouth on the column on your neck, tracing kisses from your collarbone to your cheek and then back to your lips. you want to reply, you want to tell him that you would have been perfectly content against that wall, or the door, or the couch, or even the floor, but nothing comes out.

you pull away just for a moment to look at him in the dim light of his bedroom—flushed cheeks, breathing heavy, taking a moment to push a piece of your hair behind your ear before kissing you again. and then with his mouth on yours again, you realize that jack abbot has discovered some way to turn your brain off. 

his touch is rough on your skin—when your scrubs got peeled off of you, you don’t actually know. he throws them somewhere on the ground and you paw at his shirt until he gives in and takes it off. 

it should be slower, he thinks briefly, he should slow down and take his time and not even give in and slip inside of you until you’re already a writhing, aching mess. he’s out of practice but he knows how you are, knows what would make you fall apart piece by piece.

that’s what he thinks of when your hands go to the button and zipper of his pants. for everything he knows about you, you’re also impatient. and lucky for you, he is too.

jack is out of practice, but it doesn’t mean he’s forgotten everything.

“c’mon, kid,” he breathes against your collarbone, wrestling your hands away from and then pinning them over your head. “be patient.”

“i’ve been patient—!” you whine, but he doesn’t give in just yet.

“it’ll hurt, sweetheart. i have to stretch you out first,” he says, and you feel dizzy with lust. it washes over you and makes you dumb, and you, for everything you are, are not a dumb girl. at least—not normally.

jack skips the teasing this time, trailing fingers down your chest, between the valley of your breasts and over your stomach. when he gets to your leaking cunt, he collects the wetness there with two fingers, and when you start whining again, impatient and antsy and your entire body humming with want, he does it again.

reminds you to be patient, and then plunges a finger inside of you. a moan leaves your throat—choked and loud, but he wants you to be even louder. you don’t know when he adds a second, and then a third, but you feel the delicious stretch of your walls, how his palm stays in place for you to grind up against. your hips buck up and you’re ruining his sheets and crying for more though you don’t even know what you’re asking for.

and jack takes it all in. how wet you feel against his fingers, how beautiful the noises that you’re making are. so focused on you—the sheen of sweat on your skin and how responsive you are to his touch, the noises outside his walls get drowned out. 

“jack, jack, more—” you plead, but jack doesn’t listen. everything in your body feels ready to finish. your muscles ache, the knot in your belly tightens, and heat washes over you while your toes curl in anticipation.

and then jack just stops.

“no—” you whine, the rush disappearing all at once. “no, no, jack!”

“patience, kid.”

“you’re being unfair-”

“no, i’m not.”

“then why’d you-”

“because the first time i make you finish is going to be when i’m inside of you. understood?”

and for once, you’re silent.

+

“i would have gone to the roof, probably.”

you blink open your sleepy eyes. you’re pressed against jack’s chest, your head resting there while he trails his fingers through your hair. you’re wearing his shirt, sleeping in his sheets, a cup of water that he got you from his kitchen resting on the nightstand.

you can’t feel your legs, but that’s a problem for tomorrow—but at least you know now that you might have bitten off more than you can chew. 

“what do you mean?” you ask quietly. the fireworks stopped an hour or so ago, and the only noise you hear now is jack’s heartbeat thudding against your ear.

“the rooftop, at the hospital. i go there after my shifts sometimes.” 

a lot of the time—but you don’t need to know that. from the way you immediately sit up in bed, his sheets slipping a little and exposing more of your soft skin that you don’t seem to care about, he can tell you’re concerned already. 

his shirt looks good on you. 

“tell me it’s just for fresh air?” you ask, reaching your hand over to run your fingers through the hair near his temple. his eyes close when feels your touch there, and suddenly, it feels more intimate than it has all evening. jack takes a deep breath, and then sighs.

“something like that.”

“jack-”

“it’s just… i don’t know. i got used to it, i guess. at first it was just to see what it felt like being up there. then it just turned into something else. i go up there after a bad shift and look at all the people below and… decide if it’s still worth it, i guess.” his hazel eyes look towards you and jack nestles himself more comfortably against your hand that hasn’t left him. 

“what’s gonna happen if you decide it’s not worth it one day?” you ask quietly, wet eyes sparkling up at him.

teary-eyed and flushed in his bed, all for him. you feel your emotions so strongly that he can watch them flooding your body, taking their course, almost sense them radiating from you. 

that’s the second time you’ve cried because of him, and he decides he’s not going to let it happen a third time.

he takes the hand that you had extended against him into his own and presses a kiss against your palm. 

“i don’t think i have to worry about that anymore.”

+

you get back to your apartment around four in the afternoon—you have a rare day off today. jack’s back on the night shift at seven, and though he offered to let you stay the night while he was gone, you wanted to give him time to get ready before going into the hospital. everyone has a pre-shift routine, even if they don’t recognize it. 

now that you’re back on days, yours consists of waking up early to stretch and eat a big breakfast and leave enough time lay in bed for an extra ten minutes before you actually have to get up.

you don’t know what jack’s is but you’re sure you’ll find out soon enough. 

the two of you slept in, courtesy of his black out curtains. you’re more of a get up with the sun person, but exceptions can be made.

(you’ll be making a lot of them from now on. jack abbot made you cum three times in his bed and once in the shower, and then he washed your body with his soap, the one you can still smell on your skin now. he kissed you while making you breakfast—eggs and bacon—and then told you to stop apologizing every time you accidentally hit your foot against his prosthetic under his dining table. and finally, he gave you one of your containers to take back home, and said he’s keeping the other one here. why? you’d asked. insurance, he’d replied.)

so you go back home, make dinner for yourself and wash your singular yellow tupperware and text jack to have a good shift tonight. 

you set an alarm for five, get out of bed at five-fifteen and get ready for work, more giddy for a shift than you have been since your first day of intern year.

when you walk into the hospital, early like always, you see jack talking to parker. he looks in your direction and even parker can notice his gaze following something, but she doesn’t say anything. you look away before smiling to yourself, the grin being glued to your face the entire walk to the lockers as you recall memories of the last time you saw jack.

one of the perks of always being early is that there’s no one by the lockers when you arrive.

(you’ve never thought of it as a perk until now though.)

jack walks in behind you a few minutes later—right as you’ve tucked away your pullover and your bag and he stands beside you as you reach to pick up your stethoscope. 

“ah, hold on,” he says, taking the stethoscope of your hand and into his. he loops it around your neck carefully, setting it in place for you. “there you go.”

“really?” you ask with a laugh, closing the door to your locker. “when you walked in here i thought i was gonna get a kiss. wait, what did you tell parker-”

“c’mon, kid,” jack says, looking at you with an expression you’re not sure you could ever get tired of. “i’m not that obvious.” you stare at him. “yeah, okay. i told her to go finish the note from the last trauma.”

“lucky for you, i’m your best resident. these other chums don’t show up until much closer to seven. actually, one time, santos came five minutes late. so-”

and for the second time, jack interrupts you with a kiss. he leans in, pressing his lips against yours, and your hands go slack by your side. his mouth tastes like coffee and even after a twelve hour shift he still smells like jack, the way his sheets and his soap and his shirt had smelled when you wore it.

he pulls away, and your eyes blink open slowly, like you’re figuring out where you are. fluorescent lights and the smell of the alcohol wipes they use to clean everything lingers around you.

and, of course, your attending, the one who sneaks into the locker rooms before shift change to give you secret and likely highly forbidden kisses.

“my lips are sticky,” jack says, bringing a finger to his mouth and rubbing it against another. you can’t bear to look at his hands right now, so you look away, at the risk of being useless for at least the next hour.

“it’s this lip peptide thingy. i don’t know, it’s good for them, i think. better than chapstick and they have all these flavors. they say it-” you trail off, staring at jack while he stares at you. he licks his lips.

“tastes good, kid. see you out there.”

oh god. you lean against your locker and watch jack leave. a minute later, mel walks in with trinity.

“i don’t want to hear it, bubbles. i’m here extra early, and not just to prove a point-”

“well, actually, i think it is to prove a point, but not-”

“what’s wrong? did the cat finally get your tongue?”

“i never understood what that meant-”

oh god. it’s going to be a long shift.

and outside the lockers, robby finds jack.

“so?” robby asks, leaning against the counter while jack sorts through tablets. he hands one to parker and then another to john, and they go off to pass on their patients to everyone arriving. 

“am i supposed to know what you’re talking about?” jack replies, noticing you from the corner of his eye. 

you’re coming out with santos and king, a water bottle in your hand. he had filled it for you before you left his apartment, after you’d refused his offer of walking you home. you look in his direction, and then you both look away at the same time. jack picks up his coffee cup to take another sip—if he doesn’t get the taste of you and your lip peptide thingy out of his mouth, he’s going to have a freudian slip in front of robby.

“i’m talking about you and the kid.” jack sputters, choking on his drink mid-swallow. “woah. you okay?”

“f-fine. uh, what? me and the kid?”

“yeah. since the fourth, you know, are you two good again?” 

robby looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to fill in the silence with an answer. 

“uh, yes. yeah, of course.”

“good. that was my goal. she started on nights at a bad time, and uh, i mean no one blames you. but we don't want to scare away all our interns, either.”

“right.” jack looks back at robby. “anything else?”

“no.” robby arches a brow at him. “you sure you’re okay? because she’s back on nights soon, and i don’t want-”

“i’m good, robby.” 

“alright then. where are we with sign-offs?”

you on the day shift is something manageable. something he can handle, something that shouldn’t be too terrible for you two to figure out. you always come early and he always stays a little late, and he’s sure that it won’t look suspicious. 

if you’re on days, then he’s not the one primarily in charge of your post-graduate medical education. that falls to robby and heather and frank, and he can trust that none of them are going to accidentally interfere with you learning everything you need to learn to be a good resident. 

to be a great resident—because he knows you have it in you. you’re made of the stuff it takes to be teaching other interns one day—compassion and kindness and how to treat the person while you’re fixing the patient. 

robby and heather and frank can help you with that. but if you’re on nights, it’s an entirely different ball game. he’s responsible for your education, for approving your notes and questioning your decisions and making you jump onto incoming traumas and justify every choice you make. he’s also responsible for correcting you when you’ve made a mistake. making you drink a cup of coffee if he thinks you’re getting tired. waking you up if you fall asleep at your desk at three in the morning.

and that’s just the problem. for the first time, jack abbot wonders if he can do all of those things if you’re the intern he has to do them to. 

for god’s sake—he couldn’t even wake you up to ask how you wanted your eggs. 

that’s the conundrum he’s facing when you come back home that night, near seven thirty. he’s off tonight and back tomorrow night, which means he gets about eleven or so hours with you until you leave tomorrow morning.

“hi,” you breathe, when he opens the door to let you inside. you’re clad in your pullover and you drop your bag by the front door when you come inside. “it feels weird to not go straight home.”

“oh, sweetheart, you could have gone home. i could have met you there-”

“no, no, it’s okay. i have a noisy neighbor and, well-” you drift off, smiling up at him the way you usually do.

“well?”

“i’d rather wear your clothes anyways.” 

what’s he supposed to do when you say things like that? a couple of words that make him happier than he’s felt in years, lifting the storm cloud that’s been following him around since the conversation with robby this morning. 

but it’s an important conversation, one that needs to be had. jack is a lot of things, but he is absolutely not a meddler in the lives of pretty interns or in the business of hindering their education.

“did, uh, robby say anything to you today?”

“jack,” you start slowly, turning on the couch to face him completely. “he’s not a mind-reader, you know.”

“no, i know. i just meant—well, did he?”

“no. he was normal. he even apologized for giving me side quests on an already busy day.”

“oh. that’s good.” 

you bring your hand to his hair again, running your fingers through it. it’s almost an instinct to him now—jack closes his eyes for a moment and you watch his shoulders relax.

“what’s wrong? what’re you thinking about?” his pretty hazel eyes meet yours.

“i just want us to be careful-”

“hey, you’re the one who kissed me this morning-”

“i know, i know. i need to be careful, too. i don’t want-”

“i understand. i wouldn’t want everyone knowing i’m screwing the intern either. it’s kind of a cliche, honestly, we’re no better than-”

“what? no, no. i don’t want anyone to say anything that could hurt you, or for this to interfere with your education. it is a cliche, and i know you’re close with the others and people can act very differently when they think that-”

“jack,” you start, moving yourself closer until you can crawl into his lap. his eyes flick over you, settling to watch your lips before he locks eyes again.

“yeah?” he asks, his throat dry.

“in five minutes, i’m going to be wet and naked in your shower. you can either keep talking about this or you can come join me.” then you lean in to press a kiss to his cheek. “c’mon, i wanna hear all about how you spend your days off, old man.” 

and then you get up, peeling off your sweatshirt, and then your shirt, and leaving him a trail of your clothes that ends with your panties on his bathroom tile. 

jack is a lot of things. but stupid isn’t one of them—so he follows you in there and leaves the rest of the conversation for another day.

but that day doesn’t end up coming that quickly.

as it turns out, interns on day shift barely get to spend time with their attendings from the night shift. on top of that, he has no idea how anyone manages to have an affair with a resident—they’re at the hospital every single day, pulling eighty hour weeks and coming home, if jack is even at home, completely exhausted.

but he also learns that glimpses of you at shift change and sign-offs at seven am and seven pm are enough to sustain the two of you. 

it starts with conversations in the locker room before your shift starts. he makes sure his residents are distracted before sneaking away to get a kiss or two and leaning against the metal lockers like a lovesick high schooler.

“you know that patient i was telling you about yesterday? with the bleeder? well, i came to change my scrubs and trin was grabbing something and she saw me and asked if i was mauled by a bear.”

“oh, god,” jacks says from his position, watching you do the same thing you do every morning. put away your hoodie, grab your protein bar for later, tell him whatever you’ve been thinking about since he left you yesterday night. “what’d you tell her?”

you smile.

“something like that.” you laugh, so then jack laughs.

“that’s a little dramatic, no?”

“i also told her i’m clumsy, but i think she’s come to the conclusion that i’m a sex freak.” you close your locker, facing your boyfriend-slash-attending.

“well, i mean-”

“shut up. do not-” you start with another laugh, but your smile fades when you see mel walking in with frank.

“uh, make sure to check that with ellis, alright?”

“yes, i will, dr. abbot.” jack leaves, smiling politely at frank and mel and turning back to look at you once. he really shouldn’t but he’s gotten in a bad habit of it, even though one day, someone is going to notice.

“did you just tell abbot to ‘shut up’?” frank questions, and they both look at you, waiting for your answer.

“no! no, of course not. i was just telling him about something a patient said and, um, dr. ellis wants to document it. yeah, she wants, like, really thorough notes, so he was just telling me. about that. um-”

mel looks at you thoughtfully, before bringing her hand to frank’s arm.

“i have noticed that she writes her patient encounters in a very specific format,” she says, and you sigh without realizing it. you let her carry the conversation into how frank’s notes could use some work, and then the two tease each other while you quietly make your exit.

+

another morning, jack stands at central with dana and robby, filling both of them in on two patients who are due to come back in the afternoon and the three patients still waiting for a bed upstairs.

heather and frank are bickering next to the three of them like they always do, like they’re siblings fighting in front of the parents, when he hears what they’re talking about.

“well, now i feel bad, ‘cause she’s mel’s friend, but i don’t even have that kind of energy after two red bulls, so-” frank starts, before heather interjects.

“it’s not about energy, it’s just a conversation about burn-out. candles don’t burn on both ends for a reason.”

“okay, you lost me with the metaphor.”

“you can’t be that nice to every patient forever. at some point you have to pick.”

“be nice or save their life?” frank supplies. “so basically, when is she gonna become like the rest of us?”

“i mean…” heather trails off, turning to dana. “what do you think?”

“i think they call her bubbles for a reason,” dana says, pushing up her glasses. she cranes her neck to stare at the screen of patients, looking for the next empty bed. “and i think north-two needs to be discharged, so if you two are done-”

“let me test our theory,” frank says. he waves over the lot of you coming in for your shift—you, cassie, mel, and trinity. you look over at jack, and he looks over at you, before you focus back on frank. “need someone to discharge this bed and then go grab the next patient from chairs. dana—?” he holds the clipboard and looks over at all of you, but it’s only half a second before you chirp up.

“i can do it,” you say brightly. you smile at frank and dana, reaching for the clipboard, while jack watches it happen.

“thanks bubbles,” trinity says, while the others dissipate. you make a slightly dampened face at the use of the nickname.

“one other thing,” heather asks. “when are we gonna get more cookies?”

“oh! i’m so glad you guys liked them. i guess another holiday, if there’s one coming up? or someone’s birthday? actually, i think there’s just labor day and i don’t know what kind of themed cookies i’d make. well, chocolate chip cookie day is in august, i think-”

“kid?” dana asks. “the patient? north-two?”

“right. i’m sorry. i’ll come check in after i bring the new patient back,” you say, still smiling when you walk away with the clipboard in your hand.

“what exactly were you testing?” heather asks.

“i don’t know, but she’s definitely doing whatever your metaphor meant. are we taking bets yet? i wonder how long she’ll last-”

“alright, enough,” jack snaps. “do you two not have anything better to do? who’s this helping?”

“jack?” robby questions, his eyes flicking towards dana, who looks back at him with a shrug.

“why would you want her to be jaded? isn’t it better for our patients that she stays like that for as long as she can? i thought you’d try to keep her that way, but i guess-”

“jack-” robby interrupts. 

“you two, go help somebody,” dana says to heather and frank, before turning to jack. “what the hell was that about?” 

jack sighs, not realizing when his hand had turned into a fist. probably when your name was brought up.

“nothing, i just- bad night. that’s all.”

“o-kay,” robby whistles. “you going up to the roof, or?”

“no. no, i’m going home.”

jack walks away, not in the direction of the door, but rather towards the beds on the north side, almost instinctively.

“what the hell’s wrong with him?” dana asks.

“i don’t know. since when does he just go straight home after a bad shift?”

“i have no idea.”

(that night at six-fifty, trinity pulls you aside before you two head home. you’re antsy since you want to get a couple of quiet minutes with jack before you have to leave, but when she starts talking, you forget all about it. listen, trin says, i’m sorry about the whole bubbles thing, i didn’t think it was bothering you. but collins told me that abbot was yelling at them about it and he was pretty upset, so i- but sadly, you don’t hear much of the rest of the conversation.)

you walk away from her after she finishes, reassuring her that you’re fine, before setting out to find jack. he’s putting his backpack under the desk at the hub, and you go straight to him, not entirely caring that people can see the two of you, supposing it’s fine as long as they don’t hear you.

“what’s the matter?” jack asks, and then much quieter—”everything okay, sweetheart?”

“you defended me?” you ask softly. you’re normally full of words but it feels hard to find them just now, your head feeling cloudy. 

“no, no, i just told them to knock it off.”

“was it something bad?” you question, your expression knitting into worry. 

this is exactly why he got upset—why he didn’t like their conversation from the jump, why he knew that he wanted frank and heather to stop talking before someone else overheard and jumped in and you found out what they were saying.

it’s not bad, even you wouldn’t think it’s bad. but jack doesn’t like it. he doesn’t like anyone speaking of you in any way that he doesn’t like and he especially hates the idea that you’d be upset when you found out. 

“no. i just-” jack trails off.

“you just?”

“i don’t like anyone talking about you. and i don’t like that stupid nickname, so-”

you smile at him, not the sort of innocent smile one casts at their attending—the result of being told good job on a case or have a good night on your way out. no, you smile at jack the way you do everything—with the full force of every emotion behind it, wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

and jack couldn’t look away from you, even if he wanted to.

(the two of you look like idiots—googly eyed and lovestruck and every other way to describe people who like each other a bit too much. this time it’s dana who sees the two of you. she does a double take on her way to hand a stack of tablets to the night shift charge nurse and blinks twice to make sure she’s seeing the right thing. jack abbot, a regular on the roof, and the intern who they call bubbles, looking at each other like the rest of the hospital has faded away into nothing. and then she walks away, and decides she’ll wait for robby to bring it up.)

+

it’s mel next—she’s incredibly observant as it is, but even more so when it comes to someone she considers a friend, someone like you. trinity jokes about the continual bear attacks that explain the hickies on your neck and chest when you change out of your scrub top and pull on your hoodie, but mel knows it’s more than that.

she’s always known you get to work early, but recently, every time mel comes in to put away her belongings, the space that you usually occupy is already empty. your things put away, locker closed and locked, your yellow water bottle already resting by the computer that you usually write your notes at. 

and after that, it’s just a game of paying slightly closer attention. you walk out from behind a curtained bed and come say hi to mel, ask her how her evening was, how becca is doing. but when mel glances up at the screen to see what patient you were with behind that curtain, it’s empty.

that bed was empty. and well, mel’s not much of an detective (though she has her moments), but it’s worth a shot. waste a few minutes, stare at that curtain to see if she can figure out what, or rather who is behind it. she’s almost about to call it quits, frank was running late but he’s here now and there’s an incoming so she should start moving and then—

dr. abbot comes out from behind that same curtain. he leaves it open, comes to the hub, smiles politely at mel and tells her to have a good day, dr. king, and then he walks away.

more specifically, he walks in your direction. the back of his head moves slightly in your direction. you beam at the tablet in your hands. and then—

“mel? you okay?” frank asks, and she’s snapped out of it.

(she could have figured it out ages ago, she thinks afterward, reflecting on how dr. abbot never used to tell anyone to have a good day or hum while finalizing notes or look up and smile in your general direction before looking back down at whatever’s in his hands. the first time she met him, she thought he was the type of person you categorize in the debbie downer sort of group, whereas from the moment she met you, you were clearly more of a chatty cathy. but you’re her friend. and when she had told you about her feelings for frank, you had listened and supported her and never made her feel that it was anything less than okay.)

so the next time she sees you at seven am, already out by your computer or walking back from around an empty corner, when she notices dr. abbot trailing behind you, she doesn’t say anything. when dr. abbot hangs around late finishing up a trauma and you go ask him for his opinion on whatever patient you’re seeing, even when robby is free just over there, she doesn’t say anything.

even when frank brings it up over dinner with her and becca, a side conversation while they eat spaghetti—you noticed anything different with abbot recently?—she doesn’t say anything. 

in fact, the closest she gets to saying anything is when dr. abbot comes in early—maybe around five-thirty one evening—because they’re getting swamped and heather and cassie have the flu and it’s been a terrible mess of a day.

you and mel have been running around the entire shift, barely stopping to drink water or eat something. when jack shows up and flocks straight to you and leans in to tell you something, your hand moves to touch his arm for half a second before you remember where you are and put it down. jack pulls out a granola bar from his pocket and leaves you with it to jump on the next incoming.

mel watches the encounter and puts her head down when you look her way, pretending that she’s drinking her water and staring at a tablet. when she looks up, you’re gone in another direction, but dana stares at mel, both with an understanding of what they just saw.

and then they go on with their shift.

+

it all comes crashing down, just as it had the first time, after a particularly terrible night shift. it’s always hard when someone dies in the first few hours, leaves a horrible, bitter taste in his mouth that makes him want to walk outside and not come back in. 

it’s even worse when he knows he did everything he could, that there was no way this patient was making it off the table. that the devastated husband and the crying kids were completely unavoidable, that he still has to go back and jump on the next case and start fresh and try to drown out those noises.

drowning, drowning, drowning. he’s always trying to drown out something. if it’s not the fireworks then it’s the kids sobbing over their dead parent, and if it’s not that, then it’s how he relives his own worst day of my life every time someone’s wife dies in front of him. 

it’s been one of those days. you’re due to start on nights in two shifts from now, and he still has no idea how he’ll manage to be any less obvious when it comes to you.

(the last thing he keeps trying to drown out is how wrong this is. the voice in the back of his head keeps reminding him, seemingly unable to stop, no noise being loud enough to get it to stop repeating itself. you’re still a while away from being a second year, but is that even any better? or is that another excuse he’s invented to stop feeling so guilty about the fact that you sleep in his apartment every night and leave cookies for him on the counter so he has something nice to come home to? jack doesn’t know.)

you show up at six-thirty, smiling sweetly at parker and john, telling them to grab a cookie on their way out. parker asks you why and you tell her just because, and you want five minutes alone with your boyfriend before he leaves.

you’re impatient, always have been and always will be, especially when it comes to any and all matters related to jack abbot. you’re eager to go back on the night shift because you think you’ll be able to appreciate it so much more now—learning under his tutelage, being able to discuss those foreign medical journals he shares with you over coffee at four in the morning rather than through his illegible, scribbled print on post-its and your neat handwriting in the margins. 

you want it all, and you want it now.

so you made more cookies—oatmeal raisin—to make jack’s apartment smell nice, and you pack several of them to have a valid reason to distract the others so you can get those five minutes, maybe ten, in peace.

“hi,” you sing, while jack stands in front of you, tablet in his hand and blood on his shoes. “how was your night?” he doesn’t look up, but you don’t wait for an answer. “i made oatmeal raisin last night and i put some in the break room so i think we have five minutes. i want ten but i won’t be greedy, i mean, we’ll be on nights together soon, so at least that’ll be-”

“we need to talk, kid,” jack says, looking up at you with an expression you don’t recognize.

“what’s wrong ja- dr. abbot?” a nurse walks by just as you start your sentence, changing it mid-way. 

“that,” he says, coming out a bit louder than he meant it to. “that’s what’s wrong.” 

“jack?” you say it quietly. he doesn’t mean it like that—he doesn’t want you to be upset and worried about him when you have a whole shift ahead of you, one that you show up early to with distractions so the two of you can have a few minutes alone.

it’s all of it—it’s the fact that you even have to do things like that to get five minutes alone with him. it’s that you can’t let someone overhear you calling him anything besides dr. abbot.

it’s the realization that you deserve much better than what jack abbot can give you. more than five minutes behind a curtain or a couple minutes in the break room or thirty seconds at central hub before the charge nurse comes in with another incoming. 

“come on,” he says, leading you away for a moment. you have twenty-five minutes before your shift starts and he has two senior residents who can run the show until robby walks in. he leads you to the on-call room, four walls enclosing four beds. surgery has rooms of their own, but sometimes the trauma surgeon on deck will crash in there waiting for the next page, so he checks the room before letting you into it, closing and locking the door behind him.

“i thought you were gonna yell at me. this is so much better,” you say.

your mouth has gotten you into trouble before, especially with dr. abbot. in fact, it’s what got you into this whole thing to begin with, but where you expect jack to laugh in the privacy of this room, he doesn’t.

“kid, we need to have a serious talk about this.”

“about what?”

“this. us.”

“oh, jack, come on-”

“no, i-i’m being serious. this is not okay, it’s not sustainable.”

“you’re upset because we don’t see each other? honey, i start on nights in two days, i think we can make it,” you say, coming in closer to bring your hand to jack’s shoulder. “what’s going on? really?”

“don’t you think that… what i’m doing is wrong? you’re an intern. this is about your education, i-”

“why do you think you’re disrupting my medical education just because you’re my attending? i know i get stupid around you but i promise, i’m not gonna stop paying attention to my patient because you’re standing near me. i am a doctor, you know-”

“kid, i-”

“no, stop. half this hospital is dating each other. robby is heather’s attending and i don’t see you storming them into on-call rooms to debate about his influence on her medical education-”

“that doesn’t even make sense-”

“it doesn’t have to,” you sigh, out of breath and a little winded from how loud you’re being. “we make sense. you and me. we’re good together. a lot of things in this place don’t make sense but we do. people die everyday and i don’t want to die wondering what could have been if i’d just-”

“don’t,” jack interrupts, his hands coming to your waist. they feel tight, like the first time he’d help you like this. he brings his face closer to yours, foreheads almost touching. “don’t say that.”

“oh my god. i am so sorry. that must sound so insensitive, i just meant-”

“stop talking.”

“but i-” 

and this time, he doesn’t give you a choice, pressing his lips against yours quickly. you mumble against else against his mouth, but he can’t make it out, choosing instead to ignore it. like always, jack’s mouth tastes like coffee and you take it in—your boyfriend, your attending, and whatever else jack abbot is to you, kissing you like he’s finally realizing that he belongs to you, just as much as you belong to him. 

jack’s fingertips travel under your scrub top, hands roaming the expanse of your back and then settling onto your waist again while you keep kissing, realizing that when you go back out there, you’ll be flushed and warm and your lips will be swollen.

and then you realize that you don’t care, and you let your body lean against jack’s. he pulls away for a moment, but you don’t let him get the chance to stop, leaning in to resume the kiss, desperate to feel his tongue against yours again. 

jack does pull away finally, holding your jaw with his hand.

“this is so much better,” you mumble again.

“kid, we can’t-”

“yes, we can. we have so much time, jack,” you say, trying your best to sound convincing. 

“it’s seven in the morning,” jack argues, though he doesn’t resist when you pull his navy shirt off and over his head, exposing his chest to you. you run your fingers down the exposed skin, pressing your mouth against his shoulder.

“no it’s not,” you reply, leading hot, open-mouthed kisses from his collarbone to his neck, back up to his lips. “it’s six forty-something.”

“someone’s gonna-”

“no one’s gonna,” you say, smiling in that way that you do, the way that makes it impossible for him to say no. “not unless you stop talking, old man.” 

“oh. that’s how you wanna do this?”

“i’m not doing anything,” you say, pulling off your own scrub top, and then your shoes. 

“you’re gonna kill me, kid,” leaves his mouth as your hands go to the tie of his scrub bottoms, undoing the knot. jack brings his hands to either side of your waist and lifts, bringing you down onto one of the beds with all of his strength, making you squeal as your head hits the pillow. 

he starts with a kiss to your jaw, and then your neck, trailing down between your breasts while he undoes your bra. your hands find his shoulders, gripping him tight while he works his way down, littering your stomach with kisses until he gets to the drawstring of your pants. 

his fingers work on undoing it while you whine, and then try to push yourself to sit up against jack’s weight on top of you.

“oh my god, this is so embarrassing. i didn’t know we were doing all this. i have so many matching sets of underwear for this very occasion and the one day-”

“sweetheart, i love you, but you really need to stop talking right now.”

“you love me?” you repeat back. “you love me. oh my god, i-”

you lean in, lips crashing together hard, until jack moves and he’s on top of you again. he slides off your bottoms first, his fingers dancing around the waistband of your panties—navy blue with lace on the sides and he thinks they’re awfully great so he’s not sure what you were talking about—and then you start giggling. nearly uncontrollable.

“kid, that’s twice now you’ve done that-”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry jack,” you plead, trying to keep a straight face but being unable to stop laughing. “i can’t believe this is how we’re saying i love you to each other-”

“you’re the one who wanted to date your attending-”

you burst into another fit of giggles, which jack effectively silences by kissing you again.

“one day,” jack starts, tugging your underwear down until it’s discarded somewhere by your feet, or maybe somewhere on the floor next to your clothes. “i’ll get to take my time with you again.”

that sentence leaving jack’s mouth makes your entire body tense up, a flood of want washing over you until you feel loopy. 

you pull him in for another kiss, and you feel him against you, memories of the first time he stretched you out on his fingers running through your mind. you two don’t have enough time for that today, and you both know it, but it still makes your cunt throb with anticipation.

jack lines himself up against you, running his thick tip over your opening, collecting wetness and making pleasure course through your body when he bumps against your clit. it’s electric—like a live wire hitting your nerves and making everything feel like lightening.

your limbs already feel like jelly, and you let jack maneuver your legs up onto his shoulders, watching him while he looks down at where you two are connected. 

he pushes inside and you moan—loudly and unfiltered—feeling that ridiculously amazing stretch again, your toes curling and every muscle tensing. jack leans in to kiss you and swallow the noises you make, but you still think it might not be enough.

when he pushes all the way in, your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head. 

“i’m sorry, kid, we can’t be loud,” he breathes, followed by a groan. he uses his hand to cover your mouth, pulling out and then thrusting back in all at once. the bed creaks as jack starts fucking you with an intense rhythm, the thin wooden frame hitting against the wall repetitively. 

you lock eyes with jack, moaning against his hand, feeling how big he is like it’s the first time all over again. 

every ridge and vein makes you see stars while you focus on how full you feel—full of jack, how you want stay like this forever if he’ll let you—in a tiny on call room with the door locked and people looking for the two of you. 

you repeat it against his palm—jack, jack, jack—while he keeps fucking you with an intensity that makes the coil in your belly keep tightening. he’s so deep inside of you that you’re sure you won’t be able to walk after this, let alone finish your shift, but the thought drifts somewhere far away when he changes the angle slightly. 

jack pushes his hand against your lower belly and thrusts back into you, while your back arches and tries to fight him. maybe you’re trying to get away from how good it feels, that overwhelming sensation that the ground is about to give out beneath the two of you. you stare up at jack through teary eyes, taking in how he looks hovering over you, taking care of you and watching out for you and thinking about you first like he always does. 

and then it happens, the hot sensation in your belly tenses, and then snaps, and it washes over you like a current. you feel it—the ringing in your ears feels like it’s making its way through your entire body and your walls clench and pulse around jack’s girth. 

your eyes snap shut but when they open, you keep looking up at jack, finally forcing his hand away from your mouth. 

“jack,” you get out, your throat dry and sore and lips aching. “i love you too-”

you hear jack groan, a noise that makes your walls flutter, and then you feel it again—jack’s hips stuttering, his grip on you tightening, and then warmth filling you, hot streams of cum coating your walls until it’s leaking out of you. 

you take deep breaths, head hitting the pillow while jack collapses on top of you, and then rolls over until he’s beside you. 

the room is silent besides the two of you breathing, until of course, you speak up.

“i can’t believe this is how we said i love you.”

“you already said that, kid.”

“i know. i just really can’t believe it. i figured it would at least be outside of the hospital, but, i guess that wouldn’t feel right.” 

“sweetheart-”

“am i doing it again? the not knowing when to be quiet thing?”

“no, but i-”

“wait,” you cry out, sitting up immediately. “what time is it? oh my god-”

“don’t worry about that right now. i gotta get you cleaned up before-”

“jack, i have never been late for a shift before.” you sigh dramatically before you keep going. “i just knew it. this relationship is completely affecting my medical education-”

jack shuts you up with a kiss before you can finish the sentence, capturing your laugh against his mouth. 

he starts making half a plan in his head, though what he wants to do is take you home with him right now.

“i think i’m ready for you to be back on nights now.”

“yeah? why’s that?”

“because at least we can sleep next to each other if you-”

“jack!” he hears robby’s voice shouting from the other side of the door, followed by three pounds that rattle the wood. “do not tell me that my intern is in there.”

“fuck,” jack whispers, while you stare at him with wide eyes.

“what should we do?” you mouth, while jack gets up, finding your scrubs and pocketing your underwear while he pulls on his own clothes.

“stay in here,” he tells you quietly. “just take your time.” 

“okay,” you whisper back, leaning in for another kiss with a smile. “i love you.”

“i love you too.”

jack pulls on his shirt and unlocks the door, closing it quickly behind him as he steps out to meet robby on the other side. 

“you’re kidding me, right?”

“i can explain, robby. we-”

“i don’t want to hear it. the on-call room? that’s disgusting, you know.”

“robby, i-”

“go talk to hr before gloria gets on my ass about this.” robby walks away, shaking his head. 

you open the door, poking your head out, and jack turns back to look at you.

“gosh. i sure hope hr doesn't think you’re interfering with my medical education-”

♡ thanks for reading!

[readergf]

being held by robby after a hard day at work ❤︎

[readergf]

My Nurse

Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch x Female Nurse Reader

Robby steps in and shuts down a patient for sexually harassing you right in front of him, but calls out your daddy issues in the process.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Mature Content, Praise Kink, Daddy Kink, Daddy Issues, Chivalry, Possessive Robby, Workplace Romance, Chin Grabbing, Kissing, Choking, Thumb Sucking, Eye Contact with Robby, Robby Swearing

Word Count: 1.7k+

Read more ROBBY

Robby caught your eye and jerked his chin toward the viewing room after pulling the curtain closed behind him. He casually shoved his hands into his pockets as if he hadn’t just completely reamed out the patient who made the mistake of sexually harassing you right in front of him. As if the whole ER hadn’t just heard him release that booming thunder you always knew he had brewing deep within his chest, defending your honor. As if he hadn’t noticed that flash of desire painted all over your face when the patient threatened to ‘bend you over his knee and teach you a lesson’. As if he hadn’t caught onto the fact that you were imagining him doing that to you when a sudden heat tugged at your core and flushed your face.

“He’ll never be your patient again,” Robby’s warm gravelly voice broke the heavy silence that lingered between you as he entered the tiny room, softly closing the door. “I made sure of it.”

“Thank you, I…” The heat of embarrassment still stung your cheeks as he stepped toward you, the boiling mixture of bubbling emotions churning in your stomach as you struggled to find the words to express your gratitude.

“No one talks to my nurse like that and gets away with it, pulmonary embolism or not.” He stopped directly in front of you, hands still nestled deep into the pockets of his hoodie as he tilted his head down to look at you with those impossibly beautiful brown eyes.

His nurse.

“You know, I was gonna set him straight, but you seemed to have things covered.” You joked, instinctively pushing away the impending intimacy you’ve so desperately longed for. Especially with him.

You’ve wanted Robby since the very first moment you saw him, searching for him amidst the chaos in the ER every time you clocked in, as if he was the soothing balm that could ease your anxiety no matter what type of crisis you were in. You weren’t exactly sure if it was the timbre of his voice, the depth of his gentleness or the blatant confidence that surrounded him as if nothing could shake him. But all three of them had you thinking about him when you touched yourself long after you left the hospital each night.

“Yeah?” He licked his lips before they parted, eyes holding you fast as he leaned in a little closer, watching you, studying you. “You didn’t seem to mind.”

“No, I didn’t.” You shook your head and stared at the zipper on his hoodie, counting the dozens of glistening metal teeth in the harsh fluorescent lighting as you felt the intensity of his stare bore into you. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the way your chest began to heave as you tried to steady your breath around him, or the way your hands balled into fists in order to mask how badly they were shaking.

He was so close to you now, closer than he’d ever been before. You didn’t want to blow it by seeming too excited.

“In fact, I think you kind of liked it.” He pulled a hand out of his pocket and brought it up under your chin, forcing you to face him as he lifted your head.

A darkness slowly crept across his chestnut eyes, coating them in a dangerously delicious shade of hunger as he patiently waited for you to respond. He allowed the air between you to grow static, charged with an undeniable electricity that seemed to crackle with the tension that built with each passing second as he continued gripping your chin.

“I did.” You swallowed hard, immediately halting your attempt to disguise the rapid rise and fall of your chest, realizing now that it was more than welcome. “I liked it a lot, actually.”

His grip on your chin tightened as he took in your words, jaw clenching as he carefully breathed in through his nose, the wheels in his head turning as he tried to figure out what to say to you next; whether to push you even further or pull himself back. He shook his head from side to side, an incredulous way of shaking off whatever intrusive thought had expanded his pupils all the way to their outer rims, blacking them out completely now.

Whatever it was, it had to have been good.

“Is that what you want?” He finally spoke, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as his thumb gently grazed the skin beneath your lips. “For me to bend you over my knee and teach you a lesson?”

You gasped so deeply, you thought your entire chest was going to cave in right then and there, cracking each and every rib until you folded in on yourself, crumbling to a pile of dust at his feet. Was this real? Was this a joke? Were you actually dreaming?

“Yes.” The word left your lips without your consent, your touch-starved body overriding your logical brain as waves of warmth rippled down your spine at the mere thought of him touching more of you.

“Really?” He smirked, leaning in just close enough to feel his breath hot on your skin, his other hand still snug in his hoodie. “And you think that’s going to fix your daddy issues?”

Oh fuck. He’s really been paying attention.

“Daddy issues?” You repeated, feigning ignorance. Your muscles clenched as he brushed his thumb against your bottom lip, triggering that molten heat to melt into your core and collect between your thighs.

“Oh ho ho, don’t play dumb now, princess.” He shook his head again with a grin so wide that it showed his teeth, leaning back a bit to properly take you in. That look in his eye told you that he had you right where he wanted you. He could simply ask you to do anything for him and he knew that you’d comply. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

“Princess? Robby, I’m not…” you trailed off, stopping just short of your protest before he pushed his thumb past your bottom lip and into your mouth, shutting you up.

“I can’t give it to you here.” His voice dropped an octave as his thumb glided farther back against your tongue, pressing down on your taste buds as he watched your lips wrap around it, eager to taste him. “Not the way I want to, anyway.”

You looked up at him in utter disbelief as you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his digit as he watched you with bated breath, his own chest now heaving at the sight. The salt of his skin barely masked the harsh flavor of rubbing alcohol, but you didn’t seem to mind as your lips reached his knuckle.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he purred his encouragement, nearly breathless as he started walking you back against the wall, his other hand now on your hip. “That’s a good girl.”

His eyelids fluttered shut at the hypnotizing sensation of your mouth, his other fingers tucked tightly beneath your jaw as he watched your hallowed cheeks suck him in. His lips remained parted as you suckled him in a slow, rhythmic pattern, savoring him until your saliva ended up spilling out around the corners of your mouth and down your chin, a soft moan brewing in his throat.

“Hey Robby, there’s an MVC coming in, ETA ten minutes!” Dana’s voice cut like a knife, forcing both you and Robby to freeze in place, his thumb stilling against your tongue.

He’d forgotten to lock the door behind him, but his height had shielded you from Dana’s line of vision, protecting her from seeing you like this, eyes full of lust as you sucked on your attending’s thumb like some lovesick schoolgirl. As far as she knew, the two of you just needed more privacy to talk about the patient who harassed you.

“Yup. Be right out.” The grit in his voice was enough to send her away with an annoyed huff as he stared at you with a raised brow, warning you not to make a move until he said so. He silently kept gliding his thumb over your tongue, across your teeth and against your upper lip, testing your mouth’s limits until he heard Dana finally pull the door shut and walk away.

He rested his forehead against yours when he finally exhaled, letting his hand drift down your jaw to the base of your neck, his thumb pressing firmly against your carotid, checking your pulse. His breathing became ragged as he wrapped his other fingers around your throat, his resolve quickly burning to ash as he licked his lips mere seconds before tasting yours.

The kiss was desperate, hurried, messy as his beard scratched your face in his carnal effort to claim you, to possess you, to tell you in no amount of words that this wasn’t over yet, despite the emergency that called for both of your immediate attention. He tasted like stale black coffee and forbidden desire as you opened your mouth to him again, this time allowing his tongue to explore your mouth as he pressed his hips against your belly, pinning you against the wall. His hand on your throat ignited something feral in your gut as your pulse thrummed against his grip, making you feel as if you were completely and utterly his. Your arms instinctively found their way around his waist, wrapping themselves around him as you breathed him in, keeping him as close as humanly possible.

You wanted more of him, all of him, to feel his skin against yours, to let his sweat melt into your pores, and you wanted it all right now. You could tell that he wanted it, too; that he wanted to forget what Dana had just told him and take you right then and there as you felt his growing excitement pressing against you. You felt the seismic heat building within him as it stretched the fabric of his pants while you slipped your hands beneath his scrub top, memorizing every single muscle in his lower back as you held him close. He was so warm, so strong, so…

“Fuck.” He broke the kiss and pulled back without warning, hand still tight around your neck as he hurriedly pressed his other palm over the growing bulge in his pants, trying to calm himself down.

“Robby?” You asked, trying not to whine at the loss of contact.

“We’ll finish this tonight,” he told you with a nod, squeezing his hand against your bounding pulse before releasing you and walking out the door.

[readergf]

“Will you stop when I say it? Okay, you’re cute.” robby or jack, i'm not picky.

I swear I'm going to sob! I'll pick Robby this time because I never give that beautiful man enough love and he deserves it.

“Will you stop when I say it? Okay, you’re cute.”

You and Robby had just finished another 12-hour shift. He desperately wanted to go home, but you wanted him to go have drinks in the park with you. So he's going to go have a singular beer in the park with you because it'll make you happy. You have had the beer in a cooler all day and they were calling out to you by your legal name. You even made sure to have the IPA that Robby likes in the cooler.

Robby follows behind you as you walk towards the park. It's just going to be you two tonight and that's on purpose. You're going to try and get to the bottom of whether Robby likes you or not. Some days you're positively sure he wants you because his eyes linger on you longer than they should, but other days he goes out of his way to ignore you.

You sit down on the bench and open the cooler. Robby comes and sits next to you. You hand him an IPA and then pull another one out for yourself. You crack them open and cheers each other. You take a sip out of yours and then turn your attention to Michael. Your eyes trace the way his neck moves as he swallows his beer and seeing his adam's apple bob. It's all very hot to you.

Michael looks at you and raises his eyebrow at you as if questioning why you're staring at him so intently. You don't look away but take another drink out of your beer.

"Why're you staring at me kid?"

"Because you're handsome and you're calm and it's a good look for you."

"Oh hush."

"Thanks for agreeing to come have a beer with me. I know you wanted to go home."

"I can never tell you no."

You scoff because that's a damn lie and he knows it. So you level your stare at him. Michael's feeling the tension rolling off of you in waves.

"You're so full of shit Robby. You ignore me all the damn time, and why is that? Like did I do something wrong?"

"No sweetheart you didn't do anything wrong. It's just how I get sometimes."

"Please explain it to me because some days I can feel your eyes on me at all times and I thrive with it and then others you're completely cold and distant."

You take a big swig out of your beer and then sit it on the ground next to you because you don't feel like drinking anymore. Robby finishes his beer and sets the can on the ground. He'll pick it up later before you both leave.

"You've noticed that huh?"

"I mean how can I not? When the man I find to be so very attractive and smart and kind suddenly acts like I don't exist, yeah I notice."

"Remember I'm your attending kid. So you might wanna watch how loose lipped you're being."

"Oh please if you want rid of me so bad, I'll go to night shift and work with Jack."

"I don't want to get rid of you and Jack can't have you."

"Jack can have me anytime he wants."

"Are you deliberately trying to piss me off now?"

"No, but I'm also not blind and Jack is a phenomenal doctor who I know could teach me a lot of useful things."

"I won't argue with you there because he is a phenomenal doctor. That's my brother in arms. But what do you mean you're not blind?!"

"Jack's nice to stare at. He's not you but he's still oh so very attractive..I think it's the grey hair and crow's feet."

"Sweetheart for my sanity, I'm going to need you to stop."

"I mean I could just tell you all of the things I find so attractive about you and maybe you'll quit being in denial."

Michael just stares at you almost pleading with his eyes for you to not do that because it'll break him. Unfortunately or well fortunately for you, you're stubborn. You just trace over his frame with your eyes before going back to looking into Michael's eyes.

"Where do I even start Michael Robinavitch. You have a big beautiful brain that holds so much knowledge that I can't even begin to understand half of the things you do. Your eyes, I get lost in them so easily, the dark pools of brown are so expressive and when you're sad I wanna do everything I can to put a sparkly back into your eyes. I won't get into the filthy things I've thought about with the rest of your face to save you some embarrassment but I will say I love making you blush. Your hands are like magic, they're huge and would feel great on my body. I mean I've dreamt of your fingers more than I'd like to admit."

Michael's face is turning a dark crimson color and his eyes are clouding over.

"Sweetheart I'm begging you to quit."

"Uh uh. Now let's talk about your cute tummy. Don't think I haven't heard you talk bad about that tummy of yours handsome. It's one of my favorite features you have. You're soft and warm and could be my own teddy bear if you stopped living in denial. Literally I just wanna lay my head there or be your little spoon and feel so content wrapped up safely in your arms. You feel like home to me."

"You're killing me angel. You have to understand I want you so bad, but never thought I should act on it. I mean I'm twice your age and your attending. There are so many things that could go horribly wrong."

"I'm only hearing excuses. Maybe I should continue."

“Will you stop when I say it?"

You look at Michael and bite your lip but nod your head yes.

"Okay, you’re cute.”

"Am I only cute Mikey?"

"No, you're everything sweetheart. I look at you and I feel at home too. You bring me peace and I'm sorry for all of the times I made it seem like I didn't want you around. I'm pretty good at pushing away the people I want to hold close."

"Well maybe I wanna be held close so stop pushing because I'm not going anywhere."

"You really want me?"

"More than I've ever wanted anything. I'd give up being a doctor if I had to in order to be yours."

"I'd never let that happen. The world needs more doctors like you, but I believe you."

You look at Michael and he looks at you with only what could be described as softness in his eyes. Then you say fuck it and grab him by the front of his hoodie and smash your lips to his. He might've been caught off guard but he still kisses you back enthusiastically. When you pull away he's got the biggest smile on his blushing face.

"Do you really believe me now?"

"Yeah sweetheart I do. Now was this your ulterior motive to get me here for drinks tonight?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

You just smirk at him and he pulls you into another kiss. If you weren't in the middle of this park you'd climb up into his lap. Michael pulls away and kisses your forehead.

"You're lucky you're so fucking cute and that I love you kid. Also do you want to bring those beers back to my place?"

"Says the fucking cute one. And I love you too old man. But yes please."

"Just know you're sleeping in my bed tonight. I'm not going to do anything filthy with you, at least not tonight, but you're going to be held in my arms so you feel safe and sound."

All you can do is nod your head at him dumbly and then pick up your beer off the ground and down it in one swig. Robby grabs his empty can off the ground. You grab your cooler with your other hand. You both get off the bench and throw away your empty cans.

Robby sticks his hand out to you and you take it with your empty hand and let him guide you both to his house. You're happy you got him to join you tonight and that you were able to break down his resolve by making him a little jealous and by telling him just how beautiful he is in your eyes.

It makes it all worth it but especially having to have drank that shitty IPA Michael loves so much. Now you get to go home with the man who feels like home and know you're going to be loved and kept safe and sound.

[readergf]

Fourth Of July | M.R X Reader

a/n: HAPPY 4TH YALL, BE SAFE TONIGHT!! pairing: michael "robby" robinavitch x fem!Reader wc: 2.5k

series masterlist | send me a love letter ♡

Loading his truck up with coolers, lacey’s toy car and more robby sighed, turning to see lacey walking towards the car, a small backpack on her, her tablet in one hand and a stuffed animal in her other.

“Need help?” Robby asked, amused as lacey walked to the truck and stopped at the truck door. She turned to him and nodded, her little pigtails bouncing in sync.

“Jakey is bring more!” She told robby as he picked her up and placed her into the back of the car. 

Robby let out a sigh and just nodded, watching as lacey shrugged off her bag and began to settle in for the car ride to the lake. 

“Keep up, slow poke!” You teased jake as you both carried towels and the inflatable tubes. 

Lacey popped out of the truck and squealed. “We’re going swimming!” 

Robby smiled at lacey’s excitement from her car seat as he helped jake and you loaded things into the back before putting the gate up.

You all quickly got into the vehicle, jake sitting in the back with lacey while you sat in the front with robby, watching as he began to drive away from the parking garage.

Minutes into the three hour drive, robby had noticed in the rearview mirror lacey had put on a show from herself and jake, bluey themed headphones over her ears as she kept looking over to smile at jake who had pretend as if he could hear the dialogue from the tablet and just laughed whenever lacey would giggle and look over.

You smiled as robby’s right hand found its way towards your lap, he held your hand firmly.

“We have a fun day ahead of us huh?” You spoke, making robby glance over at you for a brief second before back to the road. “Uh huh, lacey is excited about the lake.” He gave a half smile.

As you held his hand you noticed the light sheen of sweat and laughed, raising it to the AC to cool off.

“You’re like a little boy holding hands with a girl, your hand is all sweaty!” You laughed, making robby chuckle, “Sorry about that, just nervous we forgot something..” He brushed it off, going to take his hand away from yours but stopped as you held his wrist tightly and shook your head before placing his hand onto your bump.

“I think we overpacked to be honest, i think i saw a pair of pj’s in lacey’s bag.” You giggled making robby nod.

“Had to stop her from packing up her whole closet this morning..” He sighed, chuckling to himself.

Lacey bobbed her head around to the music from her show before tapping her tablet some more, pulling up her games, mindlessly kicking her feet.

“Are we there yet daddy?” 

Her question made both you and robby laugh, two hours left in your drive to the lake.

- - - - - - - -

Standing in the gas station, lacey sighed as she looked over each bag of chips, her little hands hovering over a bag of cheetos before moving to potato chips. Her tiny purse on her shoulder.

“Pick one lace.” Jake encouraged the five year old who froze for a second before grabbing cheetos, as she clutched her chips she held jake’s hand as they walked to the fridges to grab drinks for the ride up.

Not far form the pair, you and robby stood.

You have bent over to grab a drink and turned to see michael fanning himself. “You getting anything babe?” You asked, noticing the light sheen of sweat over him. Laughing you fanned him with your free hand.

“No i’m good, i’m just gonna — go check on the kids…” He said quickly before leaving you alone in the soda aisle.

Michael walked over to the kids and chuckled as he noticed jake carrying lacey’s chips and drink while lacey held onto a bag which held two taquitos, her little cheeks full of the food.

“You good man?” Jake asked, smiling at his stepdad.

“I’m alright, ready to get back on the road?” He asked, quickly picking up lacey who chewed her food before nodding. “Ready for swimming!” She smiled widely making robby nod.

“Jake, buddy could you go get mom..” Robby asked, the teen nodded and walked off to find you as robby and lacey approached the counter to pay.

Lacey laid out her food on the counter for the cashier, smiling as she pulled her purse around, digging through it while you and jake placed your things up.

“It’s gonna be 38.84…” The cashier announced, robby nodded and went to grab his wallet from his short but stopped as he didn’t feel the leather.

You quickly noticed his panic, “what’s wrong?” You asked, laying a hand on his shoulder to calm him. “I left my wallet, it’s not in my pocket..” He groaned. 

“It’s alright, i have money.” You tried to calm the situation.

“No, because that means i left something at the apartment, we need to go back!” He groaned, shaking his head. You turned to the cashier to apologize but was stopped by lacey.

“I got it daddy, it’s on me!” She smiled and pulled out a debit card. Robby had his head down, his nerves high. “Michael…look at her...” You laughed, robby did so and stopped.

There was his debit card in lacey’s small hand as she gently tapped it on the card reader.

Jake held a hand over his mouth as he held in his laughter. The teenager cashier just smiled and handed lacey the receipt.

Robby sighed and dug through her purse, sighing as he spotted his leather wallet surrounded by a melted chapstick, a single crayon, two happy meal toys and a toy phone.

Grabbing your things, you all walked back to the truck where robby took back his wallet and checked through his cash and his cards.

“When did you take daddy’s wallet?” You asked the five year old, who happily munched on her taquitos.

“Gas.” She muttered through her bites, turning to jake to have him open her juice.

You turned to robby and let out a laugh, He sighed and placed his forehead against the truck’s side. “You doing alright now?” You asked, amusement clear in your tone.

He just nodded and rubbed a hand over his heart. “Heart’s probably not, but i’ll be fine..” He sighed, smiling as he thought over the story.

You nodded and got into the car.

“Why do you have — AHH MY CHIPS!” Lacey was stopped by her cheeto bag falling off the center consol and into the makeshift trashcan for the car ride. She yelled in shock

Pulling up to the lake; You smiled as robby and jake began to unload everything from the bed of the truck.

You had joined lacey in the backseat and rubbed sunscreen over her face, she pouted but held still, once finished she popped her carseat open and waited for you to pick her up.

As you went to hold her, a voice stopped you.

“Woah, careful there!” Frank yelled, quickly running over to pick lacey up, placing her on the gravel.

“I could’ve got her langdon..” You sighed, smiling at the man. “You could’ve but should you…” He reasoned, motioning towards your nine month bump. You just scoffed out a laugh and shook your head before greeting him in a hug.

“Happy 4th to you too langdon..where’s abby and the kids?” You asked, smacking his hand away from him holding your tote bag. “Oh, she’s spraying down max before he gets a sunburn.” Frank pointed a bit away, you nodded and turned to see lacey attempting to hold up a tube with her strength.

“Yo hercules, you still need more sunscreen!” You called out, making robby point to himself.

You snorted and waved him off, walking over you helped lacey and grabbed the spray from your tote bag, lacey took a big breath before letting you spray her down.

“Alright you’re clear, who’s next?” You asked, jake sighed and pinched his nose.

- - - - - - - -

You had set up your little tent area next to frank and where dana’s family was. Shuffling through your bag you sighed as you grabbed your cream sunscreen, as you opened the top, you stopped and turned to see robby leaving lacey and jake with frank and abby.

With a smirk you sat up and fixed your hair before smiling at robby.

“Could you help me with something?” You asked, robby gave you a tight lipped smile and nodded, taking a seat beside you. “What do you need honey?” He asked, mindlessly scratching his beard.

“Will you help me with the sunscreen?” You asked, blinking at him slowly, making sure to bat your lashes.

He nodded and took the bottle from your hands and gave himself a dollop on his palm. You quickly stood up and took off your swimsuit cover up; your cover up being a pair of shorts and one of robby’s shirts.

He chuckled at the sight and motioned for you to sit back down.

You leaned back on your forearms, he gently rubbed the cream onto your exposed baby bump. “How’s she doing?” Robby asked as he gently rubbed over your belly button. You smiled as his thumb ran over a side the baby had been prone on kicking.

“Sleeping mostly, she was kind of active on the drive up.” You responded, carding your fingers through robby’s hair, he sighed and melted under your fingertips, you smiled as he slowly rubbed sunscreen on your stomach.

You smiled at the sight, looking up you took a sigh and admired the sights.

Lacey was holding dana’s hand as she kept her in the shallow end of the lake, they both chatted, not far from them was jake holding frank’s youngest while talking to abby.

“Ooh look at this rock aunty dana!” Lacey squealed as she picked up another smooth rock, dana nodded and had lacey place it in a tiny bucket before moving on. As you watched, a light sound came from your lap.

You let out a chuckle, robby had rested his eyes against your bump, you softly scratched his scalp mindlessly and enjoyed your time in the shade, watching jake and lacey’s shenanigans.

Thirty minutes had passed when you felt shuffling from your lap. Robby looked around him before realizing you were under him, reading through the book you had packed earlier. He shot up and groaned, “Why didn’t you wake me?” He asked, rubbing his eyes to adjust to the sunlight.

“You looked peaceful, and besides this has to be the longest we’ve gone without hearing lacey call out for one of us.” You noted, making him nod in agreement.

“Jake and lacey are eating if you wanna go get something..” You motioned to where dana’s set up was, her husband finished plating the food, not far from the dock lacey sat with a life vest on, happily eating a hot dog as if she hadn’t ate the car ride to the lake.

“You want something?” Robby asked, sitting up from towel, brushing off his shorts. You nodded and pointed to the coolers. “I left a lemonade in there.” You told michael as he dug through the ice before pulling out a bottle, he handed it over with a quick kiss on your cheek before walking towards dana.

“There he is!” Dana announced, smiling at robby who sheepishly nodded and rubbed his forehead, looking over to check on lacey.

“Thank you for watching her.” Robby thanked, stretching his back.

Dana wordlessly nodded, she looked over her should one last time before leaning in. “You still doing alright?” She asked, making him nod.

“Just the racing heart and empty stomach feeling..” He sighed, watching as lacey got up and walked over to dana’s daughter and began chatting.

“Does the little one know?” Dana asked, smiling as he shook his head. “Got no clue, jake knows..” Robby informed the blonde.

“When do you plan on doing it?” She asked. 

“Sunset?” He proposed, making dana nod. “Sounds perfect, want us to watch the kids?” Dana offered, robby just shook his head and smiled as lacey walked past the pair to grab her bucket of rocks. “I want them to be there.” He sighed, planning everything.

The rest of the afternoon had been spent, playing in the lake, visiting with the others while splashing in the lake. Frank and robby teaching lacey how to swim on her back. Floating on the inflatable tubes you had brought with.

As the sun began to set, frank and dana had shared a look, robby held onto your tube as you leaned back and enjoyed the breeze.

It hadn’t been till you all gotten out of the water and dried off that everyone in the group gathered for a firepit. You sat next to robby, lacey tucked beside you, drifting in and out of sleep as she struggled to hold her marshmallow over the fire.

Leaning your head against robby’s chest, you sighed and cuddled into his warmth. Robby smiled down at you and placed a kiss on your head.

“Love you.” You told robby who smiled and mumbled “I love you so much..” 

You lifted your head up as his heart rate picked up. “You ok, handsome?” You asked, placing your hand over his.

“I’m ok, just internally losing it..” He sighed, making you raise a brow at him.

“What’s the matter?” 

Robby sighed and rubbed your back. “You don’t understand how much I appreciate you in my life… you saved mine and jake’s relationship, you gave me stability, you’re carrying my child, gave me a daughter…I just…thank you.” He spoke up, catching jake, dana and frank’s attention.

“Thank you for being a good man.” You responded, squeezing his hand.

“Um—” robby wiggled out his wallet, you watched him confused, lacey now leaned over watched robby fumble something in his wallet. He stood up from the bench you three sat on, kneeing down in front of you

“I don’t want to let you get away, leading me to my next question…will you marry me?” He asked, holding out a ring towards you.

Everyone watched with a smile as your eyes watered up at the sight. You let out a sob, covering your mouth in shock.

“Yes! Of course!” You laughed, hugging robby the best you could. Lacey smiled widely at the scene. 

The group began cheering, once her stood up you hugged robby and kissed him, ignoring the minor look of disgust on lacey’s face. 

“I love you so much mrs robinavitch.” Robby mumbled to you as you both held onto each other. 

“I love you more…i hope you realize the pitt is gonna have a field day when they find out..” You both laugh at your words.

“Lacey, how are you doing baby?” Dana asked the five year old who wiped her tears away. “He’s gonna marry my mommy?” she asked, sniffling making you and robby nod at her, lacey nodded and smiled, running over to join the hug, motioning for jake to do the same.

Langdon smiled and pulled out his phone to took a photo of your little family.

To you the fourth of july solidified your little family; finally adding the matching last name to it.

[readergf]

the confession of another shoreline dreaming of conversation