dragonsondragons

[dragonsondragons]

Life Support: John Carter x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mossthedevouring @antisocialfiore @rainmg @arigoldsblog

Summary: John realises he's missed a couple of things during his recovery...

Companion piece to:

Dreamer (NSFW) - John dreams of you when he’s with someone else.

Little John - You try to keep John’s mind off the task at hand.

The First One Is Always The Hardest - You comfort John after the death of a patient.

Forget-Me-Nots - John wakes up hung over in a strange bed and with an unexpected memento of the night before.

Speak Your Truth - John speaks his truth in the aftermath of a tragedy.

Trauma - John makes a realisation after his confession.

Fever - John gets more than he bargained for when he attends a friend’s stag party in a Chicago Speakeasy.

Minx (NSFW) - John had no idea he had such a deviant little minx on his hands.

Always - You and John discuss the reasons behind your dancing.

Diamonds - John’s friend and rival makes you an offer you can’t refuse.

The Stethoscope - John’s world is turned upside down when he finds your stethoscope in his locker.

Elderberry Wine - You come home to find John waiting for you.

Sex, Lies and Cocaine Dreams - John takes his revenge on the man that shattered your dreams.

By The Grace of God - An unexpected ally goes to bat for you during your beard hearing.

Choices - You and John discuss your options moving forward.

The Sexual Revolution (NSFW) - You decide to give John a private show before the event.

A Love Story - Your performance sparks an unexpected conversation with Gamma.

The Problem With Winning The War - The problem with winning the war is that you don’t expect the second attack.

Mack The Knife - You come face to face with a nightmare in John’s apartment.

The Merry Go Round - Reality starts to crash down on you in the wake of your recent trauma.

Rounds - John’s his first thoughts are of you upon waking up from surgery.

Love & Duty - John’s recovery at Gamma’s leads to friction in your relationship due to a laundry disagreement.

The Wishing Fountain - John reflects on his life before you.

Physical (NSFW) - John gets an erection for the first time since the attack.

Reconnecting - You and John reconnect for the first time after the stabbing.

Scar Tissue - John doesn't realise you can tell when he's mishaving.

You don’t tell anyone about the counselling.

The only people that know you attend the appointments are your psychiatrist Dr DeRaad, and Kerry Weaver, who made them mandatory because she noticed something was off with your affect. Which is why it’s such a surprise when you find John waiting for you in the chair outside of Dr DeRaad’s office, his walking stick propped up against the wall alongside him.

“How did you know?” You ask him as he raises to his feet. His jaw clenches as he leans heavily on the stick, a sure fire sign that he’s overdone it today.

“I finally pulled my head out of my ass.” He says, his dark eyes meeting yours. “I realised if you weren’t talking to me that you were probably talking to a professional and you were always late home on Thursdays so...” He gestures towards Dr DeRaad’s door. “How long have you been-”

“A few months.” You say, your arm looping around his waist as you guide him back towards the chairs so he can take the weight off his lower back. He collapses into the seat with a thump before you sit down in the one beside him.

“Did something happen?” He asks, hissing through his teeth as he tries to adjust to a comfortable position. You prop your elbow up on the back of the chair, your head resting on your palm.

“Yes and no.” You respond with a sigh. You were hoping that he would never have to know about this, that you could work through your treatment without burdening him with it.

“The night that…” The familiar ache is back, the one that raises up in your chest whenever you try to talk about what happened. It used to suffocate you, silence you but not now, not anymore. “… when he hurt you, everything just happened so fast. Him in the apartment, you in the parking lot, me watching you crash in the trauma room. And then afterwards everything slowed down, the adrenaline left but I… I couldn’t feel anything. It’s like all of my emotions were locked down and I couldn’t connect with anything. I thought it would go away but it didn’t…  I stopped sleeping, stopped taking pleasure in anything…”

“Crys, we’ve been living together for months-” He cuts himself off because the signs were there, he just didn't see them. The nights he’d wake up alone, to find you studying at the kitchen table. Your disinterest in your own ecstasy, your focus on him, always him. “How did I miss that?”

“You got stabbed.” You say simply and those words, they feel like, teeth against his jugular, tearing at his throat. “You were the priority. There wasn’t really any space for what was going on with me."

He sees that now. His injury, it’s a vacuum, stealing away the parts of him that make him a good partner. All his attention has been focused on his own suffering. He didn’t stop to think about yours.

“Maybe it’s time to make space for it.” He says quietly, his hand cupping your cheek as he leans in close, his nose chasing over yours. “I don’t want to be the thing that makes you sick Crys. I want you to be able to talk to me about what’s going on with you-"

“You’re not making me sick.” You reassure him, your palm coming to rest in the cradle of his neck. Your thumb traces lightly over the five o’clock shadow that’s starting to ghost along his jaw. “But I do need something from you. I can’t keep myself healthy if I have to worry that you’re not keeping yourself healthy. I need you to start adhering to your medical restrictions, I know what it’s frustrating but-

“I can do that.” He declares immediately. “I can do whatever you need Crys, I just… just talk to me ok? Tell me how you're feeling, if you’re struggling, I want to know that. You’ve been taking care of me all this time, I should have been taking care of you…”

“No baby you don’t need to take care of me.” You tell him, your forehead touching his. “You need to take care of yourself so the two of us can get better together. That’s what we’re going to do right? Focus on ourselves, support one another?”

“Yeah Crys.” John whispers, his mouth brushing over yours. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[dragonsondragons]

Self Care - Jack Abbot x Resident!Reader

Summary: Jack’s new girlfriend takes self care really seriously given the line of work they’re in. He starts to observe these habits and some of them rub off on him.

Tags: Super fluffy, no use of y/n, implied age gap, suggested sexual activity, no real smut just Jack feeling you up a little, beekeeper!Jack

Author’s Note: Why am I obsessed with beekeeper!jack. There may be more where this came from because I had so much fun with this one– perhaps Jack and reader gardening (wink wink) while in their garden? Leads to sweet and slow stoned sex? Let me know what you think or if you have any requests! I’m always looking for more ideas. 

Also, fill out this google form if you'd like to be added to my taglist :)

You do your little stretching routine after you wake up and you ask him if he wants to join you. He gives it a try, reluctantly at first. Then he starts to realize how good it makes him feel and does it with you every time. 

“What's this pep in your step you got going on here, brother?” Robby notices one day at hand-off. “Something to do with your favorite resident? Or should I say…new lady friend,” he does a little jazz hands.

“I regret ever telling you about us,” Jack rolls his eyes at lady friend. “But yeah, actually. She’s got me stretching when we wake up,” he explains.

“Ah. She’s got you whipped is what you mean.”

Jack chuckles under his breath. “Fuck off, stretching is good for you. And being whipped isn’t so bad either.” ____

You have a little garden that you tend to in the morning as the sun’s still rising right when you get off shift. It's cathartic, to take care of something that can't puke or bleed on you. Can’t punch you in the face. 

Both you and Jack had worked last night and it was a tough one. One of those nights where it felt like you lost more than you saved. You asked Jack to come back to your place after the shift ended, just wanting to be near him after your hell of a day. 

It was still early in your relationship, you had only spent the night at Jack’s place. This was his first time coming to stay at yours. 

You could tell he was so exhausted that you offered to drive home and he eventually accepted. He sat in the passenger seat of his Tacoma with his eyes closed as you drove, envisioning a shower, you looking soft in a ratty old t-shirt, and eating take out on the couch before going to sleep.

Instead, after you made two mugs of tea and set one before him on the coffee table, you headed to the backyard, slipping through the sliding glass door with a quiet “be right back, have to take care of some stuff real quick.”

After you’re gone more than 10 minutes and he almost dozed off twice, he started to wonder what this stuff was. He peeks out the glass door, seeing you knelt down at the edge of a garden bed peeling weeds out of the ground around your plants. The garden hose was on, filling up a big watering can to your left.

He comes to stand next to your kneeling form, placing a tender hand on the crown of your head and lightly running his fingers through your hair. “What are you doing, baby?”

“Checking on the plants. It helps me clear my mind from the day.” You smile softly up at him, see his free hand rub at his weary eyes. “Why don’t you go hop in the shower, I’ll be right in," you promise. He nods, turns to head back inside. 

He couldn’t believe you wanted to be pulling weeds and lugging watering cans after a shift. But when you trailed in a few minutes later, joining him under the spray of the water, he could see the way your shoulders were looser. You were more peaceful, at ease. It made him feel more calm too, just knowing you felt a little bit better. 

He started lugging bags of soil for you the following mornings. Dug up trenches to lay a new irrigation system for the crops. This time of spring brought so many birds tweeting around in the morning air, the perfect sound track to your calming moments together in the garden.

It was a peaceful endeavor, one Jack never thought he would find himself doing but turns out he absolutely loves it. After you tell him about the benefits of pollinators he really wants to start keeping bees (Jack Abbot is beekeeping age). He does all this research about it to make sure he doesn’t fuck with the bees, wants to do it right. Gets the whole mesh suit which you can't stop laughing at the first time he puts it on. Names his hive Beetopia. He's serious about these bees and you find it so endearing. You love that he's meshing into your life like this, making his own niche in something you both do together.

Sometimes when there isn’t much to be done he’ll make breakfast while you tend to the garden. He will always try to utilize the fruits and vegetables you grow as well as his self-harvested honey whenever he can. You eat it out on the patio, admiring the work the two of you have done. Your own little paradise. ____

Out of all the self care tactics that you have brought into his life, the bubble bath is definitely one of his sleeper favorites. His house had a huge bathtub in it that he never once used. One of the first times you stayed over, you went to use the bathroom before going to bed. His eyes were already closed when he heard you squeal in the en suite attached to his room. 

“How did you not tell me about this!” you yelled out to him. 

“What, the bathroom?” he responded half asleep and confused. You came back into the room and jumped into the bed next to him, resting your chin on his chest. He peeked his eyes open as he rubbed up and down your back.

“No! That massive tub, genius!” He was surprised. Hadn’t thought once about that thing since he moved in. 

“You like it?”

“I don't like it, Jack. I love it. Baths are so soothing and rejuvenating. I always feel like a newborn baby when I get out of the bath. And I don't have a tub at my place.”

“You’re welcome to use it anytime you want, honey.” He shifted you to your side, cuddling into you and kissing your cheek. 

“You’re too good to me. And as a reward I’m making you get in there with me.” he lets out a breath of a laugh as he drifts off to sleep with you in his arms. ___

You both had the next day off, for once. So there was no time like the present to christen Jack’s bathtub. He was nervous about getting in, not being able to wear his prosthetic to keep him stable, but you got in first and held onto him tight as he stepped over the edge and eased himself down into the water. You settled in front of him, letting out a breath as you melted back into him. 

You thought you liked baths already, but this was pure bliss. His strong body against you, your breaths synching up. He washed your hair and you washed his. The warm water soothed his achy back and the overcompensating muscles in his leg. 

Safe to say, baths become a regular occurrence for you two.

You get him a matching fluffy robe with a hood because one time he said he was jealous of how cozy you looked in yours after a bath. Once, Shen stopped by to drop off the butterfly portable ultrasound that he had borrowed and Jack answered the door in said robe. 

Jack had his stoic work face on, the grumpiness only enhanced by the fact that Shen’s visit was interrupting his time with you.

“Ha, you look like a Sith, Abbot,” Shen teased him, butterfly in one hand and a half drank Dunkin’ in the other. “Robe’d up and about to cut my hand off.” He took a loud sip of his coffee as Jack just glared at him. 

“Get out of here before I actually consider it.” He tugged the Butterfly from Shen’s grasp, about to slam the door in his face. 

“Oh c'mon Jack, that’s not very nice.” You ran up to the door and opened it further to reveal yourself. 

“Sorry John, he didn’t mean that.” 

“Yeah right.” He takes in your appearance beside Jack, wearing the same exact fuzzy robe. “Like the matchy matchy, very cute you two.” Shen pulls out his phone and snaps a picture before either of you could even process it. “That’s totally going in the group chat, dude,” he laughed. 

“Not making a good case for yourself here,” Jack muttered. Shen couldnt stop laughing, and at that you moved your hand off the door jamb and let Jack slam it shut. 

He turned to you then and let out a little chuckle at the whole ordeal. “He’s a piece of work.”

“Thought he was your favorite resident?”

“No, you're my favorite resident.” ___

Besides stretching to start the day on a good note, taking soothing baths, and tending to your garden you also do yoga sometimes to turn your mind off and tune into your body after a hectic shift. He’s still reluctant to try that one, and likes to give you your space to do the things you enjoy on your own sometimes. So he doesn't join you for that, but he loves watching you as you get ready to head to the studio. 

You always wear these skin tight, colorful matching workout sets that drive him crazy. He doesn’t mean to keep you from getting to class, but sometimes he just can’t help the temptation.

“Baby,” he draws it out in a long groan. He crossed the room to you, grabbing your hips and ghosting his hands up and down, reverently. You were trying to gather your keys and yoga mat to head out the door. “You’re killing me here with the powder blue.” The leggings hugged your ass just right. God, he was about to start drooling.

You try to squirm out of his hold to put your shoes on, but he won't budge. “Get a good look, Jack, because I gotta go. Gonna be late if I don't leave right now.” 

“Oh no, you're gonna be late already? Maybe you should just stay here with me,” he pouts suggestively. 

“Already paid for the class. Actually you did, your card’s on the account.” With your resident salary, Jack liked to treat you to things like a membership to a fancy yoga studio with free green smoothies. He loved ‘providing’ for you, even though you both knew you could be just fine by yourself. 

“Even better. I don't care about losing 30 bucks right now. Because you look way too sexy in those leggings to leave me here all alone.” He pecks your lips, then down your neck, sucking the spot where he knows will draw out a moan from you. You grasp your hand into his hair, getting lost in his efforts to entice you. 

“Let me peel these off of you,” he begs, running his fingers under the waistband of the leggings. His hands travel lower, kneading at your ass and pulling you tighter against him. “Just let me worship your beautiful body, sweetheart.”

How could you say no to that? Maybe you would miss your class, but this was a form of self care as good as any.

[dragonsondragons]

Jack Abott and Parker Ellis The Pitt | Season 1

[dragonsondragons]

Part 1 - That Look In Your Eye | You Should Probably Leave series

You make big, bad, Jack Abbot nervous in a way he really isn’t used to. He fumbles his first attempt to invite you to the party, so Dr. Ellis gives him a crash course in how to get the girl.

Word Count: 3.9k

Content: yearning!jack, medical social worker!reader, reader is Jack’s work crush, slow burn, Jack on his #healingjourney, awkward abbot, unspecified age gap, named reader because I dont like using y/n (named her Nel, short for Eleanor. And yes Nel will be friends with Mel)

Read the Prologue! / Masterlist / Taglist

Author's Note: Sorry this took me sooo long to get together! I have the next few parts mapped out well and and mostly written tbh but was struggling so hard with how to introduce their interaction and dynamic in this part. Also, I would highly highly recommend reading the prologue before this part. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

In the Pitt, Jack was seen as a very confident man. He knows exactly what he’s capable of and precisely how to execute it most efficiently. It's one thing unshaken in all his years practicing medicine. No matter how low he’s felt– in war zones, in the pitt– he always stays steady under fire. Words and procedures are tools. He uses them to achieve a goal: keep the patient alive. Be calm, cool, concise. 

It's something he learned in combat, that medics aren't just healers and fighters. They are a source of confidence for the whole platoon. They set the tone. A force multiplier. He was supposed to keep a level head and know what to do, no hesitating. If he stayed cool everyone else would follow suit. 

He had to to seem confident on the outside, but never let himself feel it too much on the inside. If you feel too confident, you start to forget that there is just one critical moment, one mistake, standing between your patient and death.

Jack couldn't help but feel that way now, like he was one mistake from ruining his chances with you. Deep breath. No ones going to die, he repeats in his head. It's one of the constant reminders he’s had to give himself when anxiety spikes. Another deep breath.

He was supposed to be a confident guy. Asking out the girl you liked shouldn’t be so hard. 

But there was a disconnect for him, between what was shown to the world– a self assured master of his craft– and what he felt on the inside. Analyzing every little mistake so that he can be better for next time. Never letting himself feel too secure, always striving for better. Battling between his desires and that loud voice inside, telling him to isolate. 

Because of that voice his social confidence was a lot more shakey than his work persona. For the most part he can fake it till he makes it or keep enough distance from people that it doesn't matter. But then there was you, slowly drawing him out of his shell. Bit by bit so that he barely saw it coming until it hit him like a truck. He should have seen it a long time ago. But he likes you and there's no denying it now. He's decided he's gonna try and do something about it, and that requires some guts and smooth talking he’s not sure if he's capable of.

He pulls into his parking space in the hospital garage, yearning for you hard. He worked himself up all the way here and now that it's at the forefront of his brain he can’t resist the urge to be near you. 

You’ve got the guts, he tells himself, willing it to be true. Just invite her to the party. Just be yourself? Is that who he wanted to show her? This fucked up guy who can barely work up the courage to ask her one simple phrase. There it goes again; his mind working against him.

He walked in through the ambulance bay, backpack slung over one shoulder. Immediately, he saw you. You were sitting at the hub checking the patient census that had just come into your inbox from the day shift and radiating something bright. Maybe it was just him who saw you as the sun.

Now or never. He walked towards the large central desk and slung his backpack under an inner counter. He leaned down on his elbows behind the computer you worked at, thrumming his fingers against the counter top. “Hey, You.” 

His familiar greeting made your stomach flip and you couldn't help but smile. It had been a few days since your shifts had aligned. “Good evening, Dr Abbot,” you hum to him, eyes tearing away from your screen to look up into his hazel eyes. 

Suddenly his pep talk to himself in the car flew out the window. With you sitting right before him, everything inside his mind was gone. You sure didn't mind gazing into Jack’s eyes, in fact you enjoyed it, but the silence was dragging on so you broke it. 

“Missed you at lunch yesterday. I had to eat with Shen and he would not shut up about a big high pressure weather system moving in or something.” There was a pressure system building in Jack's chest. He wanted to respond but was caught up inside his mind. Missed you at lunch, echoed in his mind. She missed me? More pressure flared. 

“Everything okay, Jack?” you asked, head tilting as you looked at him so caringly. 

“Huh?”

“Seems like you’re somewhere else right now. And that look in your eyes, there’s something you’re not telling me.” She could always read him like a book. 

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. Got a lot on my mind right now.” He was going to continue to deflect, as usual. But she was already onto him. This was his chance. Might as well just come out with it. “Actually I uh was wondering of yo–” Your pager screamed out through the ED and you looked down at it on your waistband. He deflated. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, dayshift always has them on the highest volume.” You read the message coming in and started gathering stuff from the desk around you. “I have to get going to see this patient before discharge. What was it you were wondering though?”  

“Uh… I, um. I was just gonna ask if you, um. Brought your lunch today?”  Fuck. He lost all his steam when that pager went off.

“You know I always do.” You were standing up from the swivel chair now. “Same time as usual? Just page me if you're not gonna be able to make it?” He gives you one of his awkward thumbs up with both hands and says “See you up there,” as you turn to go see the patient. You smile back over your shoulder at him.

He leaned down and put his head between his hands on the counter top while chastising himself for his failed attempt at asking you out. 

He hadn’t registered Dr. Ellis off to the other side of the hub during this whole interaction, having been so focused on whatever it is between him and you that draws him in. A laugh burst out that snapped him out of his pity party. “What the hell was that, Abbot?” said Ellis, thoroughly amused at seeing a guy like Dr. Abbot who is so typically composure and competence fumble. “You can do a REBOA in your sleep but can’t flirt with a woman?”

He lifted his head slightly and glared. “Who said I was flirting?”

“Well, you certainly weren’t successfully flirting. But it would take a fool not to see that you like her.” He laid his head back down and groaned at that. Despite his current embarrassment, Jack liked working with Dr. Ellis more than most other people. He appreciated her no nonsense approach and deft skills. And the fact that she's not afraid of him. She will tell it to him like it is. He knew that interaction was bad, but if Ellis was confirming… then it was really terrible. 

“I don't know, I just… panicked.” How can he stay so calm when someone’s bleeding to death but couldn't do this one thing when faced with you. 

“Did you bring your lunch?!” she echoed him. “That was really what you came up with? What were you really trying to ask her?” He hesitated. But Ellis seemed to already know so much about this whole situation. Guess he wasn’t as close to the chest with his crush as he thought. Maybe he should let her give him some advice. 

“I’m having a party at my place soon, and I was trying to ask her to come,” he admitted.

Ellis raised one eyebrow. “You're having a party?” She never thought she would hear that come out of his mouth. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I'm having a party for everyone from work, you’re invited. That's not the point. Point is I had my chance and I chickened out.”

“Yeah, you did. You have absolutely no game, old timer.” 

“I have game, just… not in that particular instance. I'm out of practice,” he tries to defend himself.  

“Clearly. But I can help you with that.”

“She totally can,” Dr. Santos interjected. Santos had been trying out a rotation on the night shift and had just finished up with a patient in curtain 3 nearby. Always the eavesdropper, she tuned in to the conversation between Abbot and Ellis as she had approached the hub. “Dr. Ellis has got mad game, trust me.” Ellis rolls her eyes at the overzealous intern. “Wait–we’re talking about you getting nervous around Nel right?” 

“Wha-No. I don't get nervous around Nel.” Both women scoff at him. Jack’s eyes widen and turns to Ellis for a sidebar. “How do you both know about this? I don't want to make this a thing. If she's not into me I don't want her to be uncomfortable at work.” He can't be careless about this, needs to do it right. 

“Abbot, be so serious,” she deadpans. “She’s totally into you.”

“You don't know that,” Jack huffs. How do they know if you're into him? He barely let himself know he was into you until therapy earlier today. Santos and Ellis share a look. Santos butts in again, “Dude, it's so obvious. Her eyes literally twinkle when you're in the same room.”

“Don't dude me right now, Santos,” Jack snaps. Do they? Twinkle for him? He hopes so. But he doesn't want to get his hopes up. God, this whole thing is putting him so on edge. 

Ellis sees how uncomfortable Jack’s getting and jumps in. “The grownups are talking here, Dr. Santos. Guy over in North 12 needs his bowel dismipacted, go.” As she reluctantly leaves to go handle the literal shit that's been assigned to her, Ellis tunes back into the conversation with Jack.  

“She's right though, it's obvious you're both smitten. You’ve just gotta shoot your shot, man.” He takes a deep breath to steady himself at the thought. “What are you planning to say?” 

He hesitates. Drums his thumbs against the counter top again. “How about I'm having a party. You can come, if you want.”

“God, this is why I date women. You're useless.” 

“You said you would help!”

“Look–that's way too passive. Sounds like you don't care if she comes or not. Women like when you're sincere and confident. Usually that's your forte, but I guess not when you’re nervous about your crush. Try to tune in to that Abbot, ya know, direct and to the point.”

If I say what I actually mean, Jack thinks, it will be ‘I think you're smart and caring and beautiful, and I like spending time with you at work. And more than anything, I’d like to see you outside of this hell hole…preferably…all the time.’ He’s staring off into the abyss now.

“Oh my god, you're so in your head. Just be normal, be yourself! Say Hey, I'm having a party. I would really like it if you came.”  

“Got it, yeah. Be normal.” 

She huffs at his nervousness. “If you don't grow a spine and ask her out, I will,” Ellis jests, giving him a little incentive. 

“C'mon, give me a chance here.”

“She's hot, kind. Seems like a really great person. So you better snatch her up before someone else does.”

—

It was just before 1am when your stomach started to grumble, queuing you that it was almost your normal “lunch” time. You finished up your case note you were working on, grabbed your food from the breakroom fridge, and headed up to the roof. 

Lunch with Jack was always a highlight of your shift. No matter how shitty a patient had treated you or how many problems you had encountered that day, sitting with him for just a few minutes always made it feel like you were free of the hospital. Returning to your shift after those moments with him, the fluorescent lights turned softer and long hospital hallways less suffocating. 

It happened by accident really, the two of you becoming lunch buddies. You brought your lunch box up to the roof to get some air while you took a break. He was already up there, leaning up against the railing staring out at the city beyond the hospital. He wasn't expecting a visitor, didn’t encounter many others up there, but suddenly there was you. An angel of the night.  

When you pushed open the door of the stairwell to see him staring out at the skyline, you remember thinking that this man looked like a beacon high up above the rest of the city, standing steady and sending out a signal. Looking out over the whole city and asking who’s there? Free in the dark of night to admit that he was seeking connection. 

From the very first moment, you read him eerily well. And you approached. Because you were seeking the same thing. 

You struck up a conversation with him and offered him half of your sandwich. Kept doing so until he started bringing his own food too, usually whatever had the quickest doordash delivery time. He made you laugh with his dry and dark humor. Shared silence with you when you were both too tired to speak, or listened to you ramble about the book you were reading or some movie you had watched. Sometimes he had questions.  ____

“Have you ever heard of the Four Agreements?” he asked one night. You picked through some of the Chinese food he had ordered from the 24 hour place down the street, while he took a bite out of the apple you had packed. You chuckle a little at his question. 

“Why are you laughing at me?” he asks.

“Sorry– it's just. As someone who works in a mental health bubble, the Four Agreements is like… the bible of self help. And it's a little cliche.”

“You’re calling Linda cliche?”

“Who’s Linda?"

“My therapist. She recommended it."

“Look at you, doing therapy.”

He gave you a little shrug. “Thanks. So I shouldn’t read it? If it's cliche."

“No, no, It could still be useful. Give it a try.”  ____

He also surprised you with these bursts of intense vulnerability, sparsed out between his usually more gruff or sarcastic responses. 

Whenever he was about to reveal something to you, you could almost see it coming. He would always position himself next to you, leaning over on the railing and facing out over Pittsburg like he was that first night you found him up here. He wouldn’t look in your eyes like he usually did. Would just stand next to you there and focus on some point, far out on the horizon. He’d be quiet for a while, and you would just wait, just being there with him. 

____

“That guy we both saw today, the boarder in North 7?” 

“Yeah?” you encouraged him to continue. 

“I know him. Well not him, really, but his brother. We served together. He lost his brother the same day I lost my leg.” He pulled up the hem of his scrub pants a bit to reveal a glimpse of his prosthetic.

“Oh…Jack. I’m so sorry. That must bring up a lot of old memories.”

“It was a long time ago. Can’t change it now.” He wants to pull away from the exposure he felt at saying this to you. But you draw out something in him. Sharing with you is easier sometimes, and he doesn't know why. It's because he’s falling in love with you and hasn't let himself admit it yet.

“Doesn’t mean it can’t still hurt.” You’re always trying to encourage him to feel.

“Yeah... still hurts like hell. Hurts more because I hadn’t thought about Eddie in months, maybe years. I forgot about him.” 

You turn your head to face him, frowning. He maintains his gaze on some faraway spot. “You can’t blame yourself for that. If you remembered them all every second of every day you would drive yourself crazy.” 

He took a shaky breath in and just nodded. That was as much opening up he could take for the moment. “I gotta go back down there, check on the patients,” he says, letting the voice telling him to run win, for now.

You pause for a beat, trying to replicate his own incessant gaze that would always get you break and look up at him. The trick doesn’t work on its own master. He continues to put that distance between you and stares out at the city beyond the roof, then down at his feet. 

“Okay. But just be careful with yourself, Jack. And if you ever want to talk more, I’m here.” You jutted your hip out to bump his, trying to coax him out of his unease, show him that it was okay to open up to you. He stood fully up from the railing, giving you a double thumbs up. That was becoming his signature move with you when he didn't quite know what to say. He kept doing it because it always made you smile.  ____

Sometimes his appearances on the roof were just as scattered as his ability to show vulnerability. After times where he opened up you might not see him for days. He would go brood and throw himself into the work to get his mind off the memories, or off of you, when the way you were making him feel scared him a little too much. He would chastise himself for letting his feelings slip out like that. Would convince himself that you didn't want to hear anything about it, no matter how supportive and kind you were whenever he did share. 

Deep down he longed for connection, even though he actively pushed everyone away. 

Once you found him on that roof, finally someone was pushing back. You would come and find him if he didn't show up on the roof, or send him a message as you were heading up, pestering him to come join you if you could. 

And the way you responded to him showing how he felt, admitting what ate at him inside, it started to show him that it was okay to reveal himself. It didn’t make it any less uncomfortable, but still he kept coming back to have lunch with you. 

Tonight would be just like any of those other nights, he told himself as he hiked up the stairs to the roof entry. Just be normal. 

You were already up there waiting for him when he came through the stairwell door. The light midsummer night breeze blew your hair around your face and he sensed something heavy on your mind. Brooding on the roof was usually his forte.

As he approaches you barely register his presence. He places a hand on your shoulder, which makes you jump and turn to him. “You good?” he asks gently.

“Yeah–fine.” You shake your head and give him a little smile but he sees it's not the kind that you usually flash, the kind that's earnest. He doesn’t push.

“Well, if you weren’t good I would offer some crab rangoons as a pick me up.” He lifts his takeout bag up. “But if you’re fine then you don’t need em.” 

“Gimme that,” you snatch the bag from him and dig out the rangoons. 

“That’s what I thought.” the corner of his mouth twitches into an almost-there smirk. 

You two dig into the combo of takeout and packed food spread out before you. All of his nervousness from earlier in the day had dissipated. Up here, in the dark, just the two of you, he was calm. As calm as Jack Abbot could be these days. He lets himself think about being with you like this in the daytime. Somewhere else, like having a picnic in a park where you would admire the spring flowers and he would admire you with the same reverence. 

He had to ask his question, because failing would mean missing that chance. 

“You’re looking at me like that again.” you said.

“Like what?” he keeps his gaze locked on yours like if he blinked you would disappear. 

“I don’t know. I just recognize that look in your eye.” It's the look I get when I admire you, he thinks.

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking if you go first.” You let out a huff of a breath. “Fine. I just… I guess I’m tired– getting really tired of all the roadblocks in my work. People always need more than I’m able to give them. Shelters are always full or the patient doesn’t meet some eligibility requirement and there’s nothing I can do to change that.”

“You’re doing everything you can with what you have, that’s more than most people. You rock it in there everyday,” Jack responds. 

“I know that, in theory. It’s just been harder and harder to believe it lately.”

“Well, I’ll keep reminding you.” 

“Okay, your turn.”

He scratched the back of his neck, then forced himself to look at you head on. “Uh, I’m going to have everyone from work over at my place for a barbeque. But I wanted to, uh, make sure that you would be there, with me. And…maybe it will help you decompress from work and everything.” It was as un-awkward as he could possibly make it. 

You found his subtle bashfulness cute. It was endearing to bring the steady Jack Abbot to jumbling his words. “I would love to come.” The biggest smile you've ever seen on him spreads across Jack’s face. 

“When’s the next Saturday you’re off?” he asks.

“Two weeks from now.”

“Then that's our party then.” 

You giggle. “Our party, huh?”

“Well you’re the guest of honor, I decided.” 

“Oh, how gracious of you.”

The banter slows, both of you feeling the tension of crossing a new line that you can't go back over. It's quiet for another beat, then Jack speaks again, quietly.

“Ellis is gonna be proud of me for this one.”

“What do you mean?”

“She told me I had no game, earlier at the beginning of shift. I meant to ask you then but got too nervous. So she gave me some pointers.”

That made you blush. You had liked Jack Abbot for a while, but did not want to risk your friendship on making the first move. You didn’t want him to think that your support of him was conditional on him reciprocating feelings. You could see him deeply struggling and cared about him, just wanting to be there for him. So even though you had butterflies tingling in your stomach more and more after each encounter, you tried to keep the relationship as professional as possible. After this– him asking you to come to his party like that, admitting it made him nervous to do so. It finally showed you that you could want more with Jack. That he wanted it too. 

It emboldened you, and you reached out to lace your fingers with his. “I like you the way you are Jack. It's okay to be nervous, but please just keep being you.” 

He squeezed your hand and nodded his head. “I think I can do that sweetheart.”

[dragonsondragons]

ho'oponopono

[dragonsondragons]

Part 1 - That Look In Your Eye | You Should Probably Leave series

You make big, bad, Jack Abbot nervous in a way he really isn’t used to. He fumbles his first attempt to invite you to the party, so Dr. Ellis gives him a crash course in how to get the girl.

Word Count: 3.9k

Content: yearning!jack, medical social worker!reader, reader is Jack’s work crush, slow burn, Jack on his #healingjourney, awkward abbot, unspecified age gap, named reader because I dont like using y/n (named her Nel, short for Eleanor. And yes Nel will be friends with Mel)

Read the Prologue! / Masterlist / Taglist

Author's Note: Sorry this took me sooo long to get together! I have the next few parts mapped out well and and mostly written tbh but was struggling so hard with how to introduce their interaction and dynamic in this part. Also, I would highly highly recommend reading the prologue before this part. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

In the Pitt, Jack was seen as a very confident man. He knows exactly what he’s capable of and precisely how to execute it most efficiently. It's one thing unshaken in all his years practicing medicine. No matter how low he’s felt– in war zones, in the pitt– he always stays steady under fire. Words and procedures are tools. He uses them to achieve a goal: keep the patient alive. Be calm, cool, concise. 

It's something he learned in combat, that medics aren't just healers and fighters. They are a source of confidence for the whole platoon. They set the tone. A force multiplier. He was supposed to keep a level head and know what to do, no hesitating. If he stayed cool everyone else would follow suit. 

He had to to seem confident on the outside, but never let himself feel it too much on the inside. If you feel too confident, you start to forget that there is just one critical moment, one mistake, standing between your patient and death.

Jack couldn't help but feel that way now, like he was one mistake from ruining his chances with you. Deep breath. No ones going to die, he repeats in his head. It's one of the constant reminders he’s had to give himself when anxiety spikes. Another deep breath.

He was supposed to be a confident guy. Asking out the girl you liked shouldn’t be so hard. 

But there was a disconnect for him, between what was shown to the world– a self assured master of his craft– and what he felt on the inside. Analyzing every little mistake so that he can be better for next time. Never letting himself feel too secure, always striving for better. Battling between his desires and that loud voice inside, telling him to isolate. 

Because of that voice his social confidence was a lot more shakey than his work persona. For the most part he can fake it till he makes it or keep enough distance from people that it doesn't matter. But then there was you, slowly drawing him out of his shell. Bit by bit so that he barely saw it coming until it hit him like a truck. He should have seen it a long time ago. But he likes you and there's no denying it now. He's decided he's gonna try and do something about it, and that requires some guts and smooth talking he’s not sure if he's capable of.

He pulls into his parking space in the hospital garage, yearning for you hard. He worked himself up all the way here and now that it's at the forefront of his brain he can’t resist the urge to be near you. 

You’ve got the guts, he tells himself, willing it to be true. Just invite her to the party. Just be yourself? Is that who he wanted to show her? This fucked up guy who can barely work up the courage to ask her one simple phrase. There it goes again; his mind working against him.

He walked in through the ambulance bay, backpack slung over one shoulder. Immediately, he saw you. You were sitting at the hub checking the patient census that had just come into your inbox from the day shift and radiating something bright. Maybe it was just him who saw you as the sun.

Now or never. He walked towards the large central desk and slung his backpack under an inner counter. He leaned down on his elbows behind the computer you worked at, thrumming his fingers against the counter top. “Hey, You.” 

His familiar greeting made your stomach flip and you couldn't help but smile. It had been a few days since your shifts had aligned. “Good evening, Dr Abbot,” you hum to him, eyes tearing away from your screen to look up into his hazel eyes. 

Suddenly his pep talk to himself in the car flew out the window. With you sitting right before him, everything inside his mind was gone. You sure didn't mind gazing into Jack’s eyes, in fact you enjoyed it, but the silence was dragging on so you broke it. 

“Missed you at lunch yesterday. I had to eat with Shen and he would not shut up about a big high pressure weather system moving in or something.” There was a pressure system building in Jack's chest. He wanted to respond but was caught up inside his mind. Missed you at lunch, echoed in his mind. She missed me? More pressure flared. 

“Everything okay, Jack?” you asked, head tilting as you looked at him so caringly. 

“Huh?”

“Seems like you’re somewhere else right now. And that look in your eyes, there’s something you’re not telling me.” She could always read him like a book. 

He cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. Got a lot on my mind right now.” He was going to continue to deflect, as usual. But she was already onto him. This was his chance. Might as well just come out with it. “Actually I uh was wondering of yo–” Your pager screamed out through the ED and you looked down at it on your waistband. He deflated. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, dayshift always has them on the highest volume.” You read the message coming in and started gathering stuff from the desk around you. “I have to get going to see this patient before discharge. What was it you were wondering though?”  

“Uh… I, um. I was just gonna ask if you, um. Brought your lunch today?”  Fuck. He lost all his steam when that pager went off.

“You know I always do.” You were standing up from the swivel chair now. “Same time as usual? Just page me if you're not gonna be able to make it?” He gives you one of his awkward thumbs up with both hands and says “See you up there,” as you turn to go see the patient. You smile back over your shoulder at him.

He leaned down and put his head between his hands on the counter top while chastising himself for his failed attempt at asking you out. 

He hadn’t registered Dr. Ellis off to the other side of the hub during this whole interaction, having been so focused on whatever it is between him and you that draws him in. A laugh burst out that snapped him out of his pity party. “What the hell was that, Abbot?” said Ellis, thoroughly amused at seeing a guy like Dr. Abbot who is so typically composure and competence fumble. “You can do a REBOA in your sleep but can’t flirt with a woman?”

He lifted his head slightly and glared. “Who said I was flirting?”

“Well, you certainly weren’t successfully flirting. But it would take a fool not to see that you like her.” He laid his head back down and groaned at that. Despite his current embarrassment, Jack liked working with Dr. Ellis more than most other people. He appreciated her no nonsense approach and deft skills. And the fact that she's not afraid of him. She will tell it to him like it is. He knew that interaction was bad, but if Ellis was confirming… then it was really terrible. 

“I don't know, I just… panicked.” How can he stay so calm when someone’s bleeding to death but couldn't do this one thing when faced with you. 

“Did you bring your lunch?!” she echoed him. “That was really what you came up with? What were you really trying to ask her?” He hesitated. But Ellis seemed to already know so much about this whole situation. Guess he wasn’t as close to the chest with his crush as he thought. Maybe he should let her give him some advice. 

“I’m having a party at my place soon, and I was trying to ask her to come,” he admitted.

Ellis raised one eyebrow. “You're having a party?” She never thought she would hear that come out of his mouth. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I'm having a party for everyone from work, you’re invited. That's not the point. Point is I had my chance and I chickened out.”

“Yeah, you did. You have absolutely no game, old timer.” 

“I have game, just… not in that particular instance. I'm out of practice,” he tries to defend himself.  

“Clearly. But I can help you with that.”

“She totally can,” Dr. Santos interjected. Santos had been trying out a rotation on the night shift and had just finished up with a patient in curtain 3 nearby. Always the eavesdropper, she tuned in to the conversation between Abbot and Ellis as she had approached the hub. “Dr. Ellis has got mad game, trust me.” Ellis rolls her eyes at the overzealous intern. “Wait–we’re talking about you getting nervous around Nel right?” 

“Wha-No. I don't get nervous around Nel.” Both women scoff at him. Jack’s eyes widen and turns to Ellis for a sidebar. “How do you both know about this? I don't want to make this a thing. If she's not into me I don't want her to be uncomfortable at work.” He can't be careless about this, needs to do it right. 

“Abbot, be so serious,” she deadpans. “She’s totally into you.”

“You don't know that,” Jack huffs. How do they know if you're into him? He barely let himself know he was into you until therapy earlier today. Santos and Ellis share a look. Santos butts in again, “Dude, it's so obvious. Her eyes literally twinkle when you're in the same room.”

“Don't dude me right now, Santos,” Jack snaps. Do they? Twinkle for him? He hopes so. But he doesn't want to get his hopes up. God, this whole thing is putting him so on edge. 

Ellis sees how uncomfortable Jack’s getting and jumps in. “The grownups are talking here, Dr. Santos. Guy over in North 12 needs his bowel dismipacted, go.” As she reluctantly leaves to go handle the literal shit that's been assigned to her, Ellis tunes back into the conversation with Jack.  

“She's right though, it's obvious you're both smitten. You’ve just gotta shoot your shot, man.” He takes a deep breath to steady himself at the thought. “What are you planning to say?” 

He hesitates. Drums his thumbs against the counter top again. “How about I'm having a party. You can come, if you want.”

“God, this is why I date women. You're useless.” 

“You said you would help!”

“Look–that's way too passive. Sounds like you don't care if she comes or not. Women like when you're sincere and confident. Usually that's your forte, but I guess not when you’re nervous about your crush. Try to tune in to that Abbot, ya know, direct and to the point.”

If I say what I actually mean, Jack thinks, it will be ‘I think you're smart and caring and beautiful, and I like spending time with you at work. And more than anything, I’d like to see you outside of this hell hole…preferably…all the time.’ He’s staring off into the abyss now.

“Oh my god, you're so in your head. Just be normal, be yourself! Say Hey, I'm having a party. I would really like it if you came.”  

“Got it, yeah. Be normal.” 

She huffs at his nervousness. “If you don't grow a spine and ask her out, I will,” Ellis jests, giving him a little incentive. 

“C'mon, give me a chance here.”

“She's hot, kind. Seems like a really great person. So you better snatch her up before someone else does.”

—

It was just before 1am when your stomach started to grumble, queuing you that it was almost your normal “lunch” time. You finished up your case note you were working on, grabbed your food from the breakroom fridge, and headed up to the roof. 

Lunch with Jack was always a highlight of your shift. No matter how shitty a patient had treated you or how many problems you had encountered that day, sitting with him for just a few minutes always made it feel like you were free of the hospital. Returning to your shift after those moments with him, the fluorescent lights turned softer and long hospital hallways less suffocating. 

It happened by accident really, the two of you becoming lunch buddies. You brought your lunch box up to the roof to get some air while you took a break. He was already up there, leaning up against the railing staring out at the city beyond the hospital. He wasn't expecting a visitor, didn’t encounter many others up there, but suddenly there was you. An angel of the night.  

When you pushed open the door of the stairwell to see him staring out at the skyline, you remember thinking that this man looked like a beacon high up above the rest of the city, standing steady and sending out a signal. Looking out over the whole city and asking who’s there? Free in the dark of night to admit that he was seeking connection. 

From the very first moment, you read him eerily well. And you approached. Because you were seeking the same thing. 

You struck up a conversation with him and offered him half of your sandwich. Kept doing so until he started bringing his own food too, usually whatever had the quickest doordash delivery time. He made you laugh with his dry and dark humor. Shared silence with you when you were both too tired to speak, or listened to you ramble about the book you were reading or some movie you had watched. Sometimes he had questions.  ____

“Have you ever heard of the Four Agreements?” he asked one night. You picked through some of the Chinese food he had ordered from the 24 hour place down the street, while he took a bite out of the apple you had packed. You chuckle a little at his question. 

“Why are you laughing at me?” he asks.

“Sorry– it's just. As someone who works in a mental health bubble, the Four Agreements is like… the bible of self help. And it's a little cliche.”

“You’re calling Linda cliche?”

“Who’s Linda?"

“My therapist. She recommended it."

“Look at you, doing therapy.”

He gave you a little shrug. “Thanks. So I shouldn’t read it? If it's cliche."

“No, no, It could still be useful. Give it a try.”  ____

He also surprised you with these bursts of intense vulnerability, sparsed out between his usually more gruff or sarcastic responses. 

Whenever he was about to reveal something to you, you could almost see it coming. He would always position himself next to you, leaning over on the railing and facing out over Pittsburg like he was that first night you found him up here. He wouldn’t look in your eyes like he usually did. Would just stand next to you there and focus on some point, far out on the horizon. He’d be quiet for a while, and you would just wait, just being there with him. 

____

“That guy we both saw today, the boarder in North 7?” 

“Yeah?” you encouraged him to continue. 

“I know him. Well not him, really, but his brother. We served together. He lost his brother the same day I lost my leg.” He pulled up the hem of his scrub pants a bit to reveal a glimpse of his prosthetic.

“Oh…Jack. I’m so sorry. That must bring up a lot of old memories.”

“It was a long time ago. Can’t change it now.” He wants to pull away from the exposure he felt at saying this to you. But you draw out something in him. Sharing with you is easier sometimes, and he doesn't know why. It's because he’s falling in love with you and hasn't let himself admit it yet.

“Doesn’t mean it can’t still hurt.” You’re always trying to encourage him to feel.

“Yeah... still hurts like hell. Hurts more because I hadn’t thought about Eddie in months, maybe years. I forgot about him.” 

You turn your head to face him, frowning. He maintains his gaze on some faraway spot. “You can’t blame yourself for that. If you remembered them all every second of every day you would drive yourself crazy.” 

He took a shaky breath in and just nodded. That was as much opening up he could take for the moment. “I gotta go back down there, check on the patients,” he says, letting the voice telling him to run win, for now.

You pause for a beat, trying to replicate his own incessant gaze that would always get you break and look up at him. The trick doesn’t work on its own master. He continues to put that distance between you and stares out at the city beyond the roof, then down at his feet. 

“Okay. But just be careful with yourself, Jack. And if you ever want to talk more, I’m here.” You jutted your hip out to bump his, trying to coax him out of his unease, show him that it was okay to open up to you. He stood fully up from the railing, giving you a double thumbs up. That was becoming his signature move with you when he didn't quite know what to say. He kept doing it because it always made you smile.  ____

Sometimes his appearances on the roof were just as scattered as his ability to show vulnerability. After times where he opened up you might not see him for days. He would go brood and throw himself into the work to get his mind off the memories, or off of you, when the way you were making him feel scared him a little too much. He would chastise himself for letting his feelings slip out like that. Would convince himself that you didn't want to hear anything about it, no matter how supportive and kind you were whenever he did share. 

Deep down he longed for connection, even though he actively pushed everyone away. 

Once you found him on that roof, finally someone was pushing back. You would come and find him if he didn't show up on the roof, or send him a message as you were heading up, pestering him to come join you if you could. 

And the way you responded to him showing how he felt, admitting what ate at him inside, it started to show him that it was okay to reveal himself. It didn’t make it any less uncomfortable, but still he kept coming back to have lunch with you. 

Tonight would be just like any of those other nights, he told himself as he hiked up the stairs to the roof entry. Just be normal. 

You were already up there waiting for him when he came through the stairwell door. The light midsummer night breeze blew your hair around your face and he sensed something heavy on your mind. Brooding on the roof was usually his forte.

As he approaches you barely register his presence. He places a hand on your shoulder, which makes you jump and turn to him. “You good?” he asks gently.

“Yeah–fine.” You shake your head and give him a little smile but he sees it's not the kind that you usually flash, the kind that's earnest. He doesn’t push.

“Well, if you weren’t good I would offer some crab rangoons as a pick me up.” He lifts his takeout bag up. “But if you’re fine then you don’t need em.” 

“Gimme that,” you snatch the bag from him and dig out the rangoons. 

“That’s what I thought.” the corner of his mouth twitches into an almost-there smirk. 

You two dig into the combo of takeout and packed food spread out before you. All of his nervousness from earlier in the day had dissipated. Up here, in the dark, just the two of you, he was calm. As calm as Jack Abbot could be these days. He lets himself think about being with you like this in the daytime. Somewhere else, like having a picnic in a park where you would admire the spring flowers and he would admire you with the same reverence. 

He had to ask his question, because failing would mean missing that chance. 

“You’re looking at me like that again.” you said.

“Like what?” he keeps his gaze locked on yours like if he blinked you would disappear. 

“I don’t know. I just recognize that look in your eye.” It's the look I get when I admire you, he thinks.

“I’ll tell you what I’m thinking if you go first.” You let out a huff of a breath. “Fine. I just… I guess I’m tired– getting really tired of all the roadblocks in my work. People always need more than I’m able to give them. Shelters are always full or the patient doesn’t meet some eligibility requirement and there’s nothing I can do to change that.”

“You’re doing everything you can with what you have, that’s more than most people. You rock it in there everyday,” Jack responds. 

“I know that, in theory. It’s just been harder and harder to believe it lately.”

“Well, I’ll keep reminding you.” 

“Okay, your turn.”

He scratched the back of his neck, then forced himself to look at you head on. “Uh, I’m going to have everyone from work over at my place for a barbeque. But I wanted to, uh, make sure that you would be there, with me. And…maybe it will help you decompress from work and everything.” It was as un-awkward as he could possibly make it. 

You found his subtle bashfulness cute. It was endearing to bring the steady Jack Abbot to jumbling his words. “I would love to come.” The biggest smile you've ever seen on him spreads across Jack’s face. 

“When’s the next Saturday you’re off?” he asks.

“Two weeks from now.”

“Then that's our party then.” 

You giggle. “Our party, huh?”

“Well you’re the guest of honor, I decided.” 

“Oh, how gracious of you.”

The banter slows, both of you feeling the tension of crossing a new line that you can't go back over. It's quiet for another beat, then Jack speaks again, quietly.

“Ellis is gonna be proud of me for this one.”

“What do you mean?”

“She told me I had no game, earlier at the beginning of shift. I meant to ask you then but got too nervous. So she gave me some pointers.”

That made you blush. You had liked Jack Abbot for a while, but did not want to risk your friendship on making the first move. You didn’t want him to think that your support of him was conditional on him reciprocating feelings. You could see him deeply struggling and cared about him, just wanting to be there for him. So even though you had butterflies tingling in your stomach more and more after each encounter, you tried to keep the relationship as professional as possible. After this– him asking you to come to his party like that, admitting it made him nervous to do so. It finally showed you that you could want more with Jack. That he wanted it too. 

It emboldened you, and you reached out to lace your fingers with his. “I like you the way you are Jack. It's okay to be nervous, but please just keep being you.” 

He squeezed your hand and nodded his head. “I think I can do that sweetheart.”

[dragonsondragons]

pairing: Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!reader warnings: not beta read, barely proof read oops word count: 3k idk what happened i started with the bar scene and then felt like it needed some lead up and here we are notes: be kind to me, i am not a writer but these doctors have awoken a monster in me.

Robby got roped into a frontline workers’ talk at a local elementary school.

Shen’s mom’s friend is the principal if some public school and somehow that’s how Robby ends up walking into a fluorescent-lit elementary school foyer the same morning Shen’s leaving for his bachelor party weekend.

“You owe me big time, buddy.” he texts Shen.

“We’re naming our firstborn Robby,” Shen fires back.

“You know I’ll hold you to that,” he replys

He walks in with AirPods in, sunglasses still on, looking a bit lost. You glance up from your clipboard and do a double take.

He pops one AirPod out just as you mutter, “Oh… you’re not Dr. John Shen.”

“Nope, I’m not. He’s on a boat somewhere. Bahamas, I think. You’ve got me instead. Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Older. Not as good-looking.” taking his sunglasses off.

“I never said that,” you say, blush creeping up your neck. “I think he must’ve told our principal and it didn’t get passed along. No worries—I’ll just update my intro slide.”

“Sorry for the switch-up,” he says, finally meeting your eyes properly, and holding the look a moment too long.

“Really, it’s fine. Come on, I’ll show you to the gym. Kids will be filing in soon. Just a quick overview of what you do, your schooling, then a few questions. You’ve got backup—a fire chief, a nurse, an EMT. You’re not on the hook for the whole thing.”

As you walk, he points to a motivational poster taped to the wall: a kitten dangling from a tree branch.

“‘Hang in there.’ Very ER-core.”

You nod, straight-faced. “It’s more for the teachers than the students.”

He chuckles.

He introduces himself to a room of squirming third to fifth graders with “So I work in a place where people try to die and I spend most of my time convincing them not to. It’s great.”

They’re hooked.

He talks about trauma bays, night shifts, a time he held someone’s heart in his hands. The kids go wild.

One kid asks if he’s famous.

Another asks if he’s seen poop.

A third says: “You look like Iron Man.”

Robby: “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

After the assembly wraps up, your work bestie sidles up to you.

“So we’re just gonna ignore that Dr. McHottie was eye fucking you the whole time?”

You don’t look up from the stack of worksheets you’re grading. “Literally no idea what you’re talking about.”

She tilts her head. “You should’ve gotten his number. Or I should have. What do you think they’d say if we just called the hospital?”

“I think it violates HIPAA.”

She shrugs. “I don’t think that you know what HIPAA is.”

You roll your eyes.

But the universe isn’t done.

Later, still riding the post-event adrenaline, you stop at the grocery store on your route home. This day earned you cake and a bottle of wine. You’re crouched down in the wine aisle, scanning for the cheapest red on the shelf, when someone clears their throat behind you.

“I think you’re better off with a white. With, uh, berry chantilly cake,” he says, peeking into your basket.

You look up. It’s him.

“An ER doctor and a sommelier? A modern renaissance man.”

“SAT words. The future’s in good hands,” he teases.

“So what’s your wine recommendation then?” you say standing up.

“Oh, I don’t know shit about wine.”

You laugh, and the silence lingers a beat too long.

“I—” “Not—” You speak at the same time.

“Ladies first,” he smiles.

“I was just going to thank you again for coming this morning. Not to show bias, but you were definitely the kids’ favorite.”

“Yeah, the heart story always kills. No pun intended.”

“Well, they had plenty of questions after you left. I told them they missed their chance.”

“I could give you my number. Y’know, in case more vital questions pop up. Or… you could use it to talk to me. Maybe even plan a time for me to take you out?”

You chuckle. “That line work on every elementary school teacher you try to pick up?”

“So far I’m one for one.”

“Not sure that’s statistically significant,” you reply, handing him your phone.

You text him your name—just your name and a smiley.

His phone starts ringing. He glances at it, then winces.

“I’m so sorry—I have to take this. Yeah… I’m just around the block. Okay. Be there in seven.” He turns to you, regret softening his expression. “Really sorry. I’ll text you later?”

“Of course, Dr. Robinavitch. Go save lives.”

”Everyone calls me Robby, or you can call me Michael” he says heading out. Just before the door closes, he glances back once more.

Later, you’re finally home. Glass of red in hand, cozy on the couch. You scroll, half-buzzed from the wine and the day, when a new text pops up:

Michael: My research says champagne’s actually the move next time—for the cake, I mean.

You grin.

You: Not a ton of room in the budget for a Thursday night champagne toast on a public school salary. Think I’ll stick to my $9 red.

You snap a selfie: you, the wine, a smirk.

Michael: Could be my treat? Next Thursday?

Followed by a link to a cozy bar you’ve been wanting to try.

Your fingers hover for only a second before typing:

You: It’s a date ❤️

You get there first.

The bar is small, dim, and full of mismatched chairs and candlelight. The kind of place where couples whisper over charcuterie. You’re nursing a glass of something bubbly, trying to look casual and not like you checked your makeup in your phone camera twelve times already.

Then the door creaks open, and there he is.

Button-down rolled at the sleeves, hair mussed just enough to look effortless—though he’d never admit it took longer than it should’ve. He spots you instantly and smiles like he doesn’t do that often. Like it caught him off guard too.

“You clean up nice,” you say as he slides into the chair across from you.

“You clean up… irresponsibly good,” he says, raising his eyebrows and making you laugh.

You clink glasses and dive straight into easy conversation. It flows, faster than either of you expected. He tells you about the time a raccoon got into the ambulance bay. You tell him about a class trip gone wrong and how a goat chased the entire third grade around a petting zoo.

There’s food—fancy grilled cheese, olives, tiny things with aioli—and more wine. You talk about work, but not too much. You learn he’s been at The Pitt longer than he planned. That he’s not from Pittsburgh, but ended up staying because… well, because.

You don’t push.

He watches you talk with his chin resting on one hand, doing that thing again—looking at you like you’re a puzzle he doesn’t mind not solving.

Midway through dessert, a berry cream tarte— the closest thing they had to the cake you bonded over a week ago— he leans in a little.

“Be honest,” he says. “What’d you actually think when I walked into the school?”

You smirk. “I thought you were a dad who got lost on his way to drop off a forgotten lunchbox.”

Robby laughs. “Brutal.”

“Okay, and also… I thought, oh no, he’s hot.”

He raises his glass. “That’s better.”

He offers you a hand to help you out of the booth and follows beside you, hand barely there at your lower back.

You’re standing outside, the city quiet in that just-past-bedtime way. There’s a light breeze and the smell of something warm from a nearby bakery.

“I had fun,” you say.

“Me too,” he replies. “Thanks for not fleeing halfway through.”

“Thanks for not turning out to be a wine snob.”

“I told you, I know nothing about wine. I was just trying to impress you. I was frantically Googling wine recommendations so i could have a reason to chat with you.”

You both laugh, and then there's a pause. A beat of quiet.

He tilts his head. “So, uh… what’s the move here?”

You step forward. “Well, you did save a lot of lives this week.”

“And you wrangled children into making a thank-you card with the word ‘trauma’ spelled wrong.”

“Tramua is the French spelling,” you deadpan.

That makes him laugh again—but softer this time.

Then he kisses you. Slow and warm, like he’s been thinking about it since the grocery store.

When you pull back, he looks at you like he wants to say something—but doesn’t.

Instead, he laces his fingers with yours.

“Did you park around here?”

“I walked. I’m only a few blocks away.”

“Can I walk you home? Make sure you get there safely.”

You smile. “Of course. It’s that way,” you say, pointing left.

He releases your hand just long enough to move to the curb side, then grabs it again without a word.

You walk in comfortable silence. That kind of quiet that doesn’t need filling.

“This is me,” you say as you reach your stoop. “I’d invite you up for a nightcap, but… it is a school night.”

Robby chuckles. “Can I kiss you again?”

You don’t answer—you just lean in. And suddenly you’re a teenager again, making out on your front porch under a flickering streetlamp.

This time, he’s the one to pull back first, forehead resting against yours. “Alright,” he murmurs. “Guess I have to be the responsible one.”

You steal a few more kisses anyway, laughing softly, before finally saying goodnight and slipping inside.

You’re curled up in bed, grading a stack of vocabulary quizzes, red pen in hand, when your phone buzzes:

Michael: Made it home. Thanks for a great night.

You: I had an amazing time. Up until I got home and got a paper cut on a stack of quizzes I need to finish before tomorrow.

Michael: Sounds serious. I can’t diagnose over text. Could I see it in person? Maybe Saturday?

You: I’d love that, but I won’t be in town—I can’t believe this didn’t come up. I leave tomorrow for an elementary STEM conference. Riveting, I know. I’ll be back Wednesday.

Michael: My schedule’s rough next week. Could you do Friday?

You: One date in and we’re already juggling calendars. I think that’s a good omen 😊

But yes—I’ll pencil you in for Friday.

Michael: Pencil? Ouch. That kind of hurts.

You: Okay, okay. Permanent marker. Color coded. Red for Robby.

Michael: That’s more like it ;)

The days go fast—seminars, lectures, hands-on demos. You barely stop moving.

But every spare second you get, you’re texting him.

Sometimes flirty. Sometimes funny. Sometimes just: Here’s what I’m eating. What about you?

It’s been a while since you’ve been in something like this. But it’s never felt this easy. And you’re really hoping he feels the same way.

Little do you know.

It’s almost time for handoff , and shockingly the ER is in a lull which gives the team time to strike an inquisition on Robby. Dana kicks it off, perched on a nurses station desk.

“Alright Robinovitch, spill”

He looks at her over his glasses, “I just finished handing off to Shen, theres nothing else to spill.”

“You’re smiling.”

“No I’m not.” he says with a frown.

“All week your face is trying so hard not to smile, it’s giving your wrinkles wrinkles.”

Shen turns from the drawer hes been rummaging in for snacks. “Wait, are we talking about how Robby’s been… weirdly chill?”

“I’m not chill.”

“You told a med student that it was alright, we all make mistakes sometimes.”

“I did not.”

“You did. I was there,” Dana grins. “Who are you?”

Robby leans back in his hair, sips his coffee. “Maybe I’m growing. Emotionally.”

Dana gasps. “Oh my God. He’s in love.”

Robby chokes slightly on his drink. “I’m sorry?”

“You’ve had your nose in your phone every free moment you’ve had.” Dana adds. “You’ve taken real breaks where you go talk on the phone in the ambulance bay.”

Robby sets his cup down, but he’s not denying it. Just smirking like someone caught red-handed.

“Alright who’s the lucky lady?”

“You don’t know her and you’ll never know her.”

Shen looks like he’s doing calculus in his head and leans in. “Wait this started when I was on my trip, oh my god, did you meet a hot mom at the elementary school?”

Robby pauses. Just long enough.

“Holy shit, I don’t owe you any more – you got your repayment a hot MILF.”

“Oh my God,” Dana says.

“Jesus Christ, she’s not a mom, she’s a teacher”.

There’s a beat of silence before Dana grins. “You know what? I love this for you.”

Robby rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue.

“Wait,” Shen says. “Does she know you’re, like, emotionally stunted?”

“She’s a 3rd grade teacher. I think she’s prepared.”

Dana hops down. “I’m gonna need details.”

“You’re not getting details.”

Friday rolls around and you’re more excited than you’ve ever been for a second date. It’s cozy and dimly lit—more plants than light fixtures, menus scribbled on chalkboards, and the faint buzz of a bar that feels like a well-kept secret.

You spot him at the bar, already seated towards the back. He’s dressed down again, but there’s something intentional about it—like someone who spent an extra minute wondering what shirt to wear.

He catches your eyes and smiles like he forgot how to do that for a while until recently.

“You’re punctual,” he says, clearly pleased.

“You’re early,” you reply, shrugging off your coat. “I was promised a perpetually late, cynical doctor.”

“Tragic. He’s been replaced by a man who googled ‘cozy date spots that don’t feel like you’re trying too hard.’”

You laugh. “And did it recommend this place?”

“Nope. Shen’s girlfriend did. Which I now realize makes this deeply traceable.”

Your eyes widen. “Wait—do they know?”

Robby sighs. “Dana cornered me in central. I didn’t confirm or deny. Shen said I was glowing. It was… a dark time.”

You smirk.

The food is good—small plates, easy to share. The conversation is even better.

He opens up, just a little—enough to mention the long hours, how emergency medicine pulls you in like a rip current, how sometimes it feels like it’s the only thing he’s really good at.

You tell him about your student who tried to fake a cough for three weeks to get out of a math test, and the tiny triumphs that feel like wins no one else sees.

He watches you talk, head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth pulled into a lazy smile. His fingers rest near yours on the table. Not touching. Not quite.

Finally, he says, “I’ve gotta be honest—I haven’t really… done this in a while.”

“Tapas?”

He chuckles. “No, like—dating. Letting someone in. It’s easier to stay busy. Stay… guarded, I guess.”

You nod. “Well, I haven’t really dated someone who sees more blood before lunch than most people do in a year, so.”

“So we’re both out of practice.”

“Guess we’ll have to wing it.”

He leans in and kisses you. Slow. Deliberate. This one without surprise. This one because he wanted to all night.

You’ve fallen into a comfortable cadence. You see him a few times a week, more often than you thought you would, but you don't complain. You love his company.

Your schedules do still clash at times.

You planned to go home after parent-teacher conferences. Michael had already mentioned he had plans—finally joining his coworkers for a long-overdue drink after weeks of skipping out.

It doesn’t take much to convince you to meet your own colleagues for a post-conference drink. It’s been a day, and you deserve it.

But as you walk into the bar, you spot a familiar profile near the corner.

You don’t even hesitate. With a little liquid courage in hand, you stroll over and place a hand on his shoulder.

“So… they really just let anyone in here nowadays?”

Michael turns, eyes lighting up in that way that makes your stomach dip. “How’d you find me?”

“Coincidence. We needed to lick our wounds after the parent-teacher conference firing squad.”

One of the guys at the table leans toward the person next to him. “Ahhh. This is the teacher.”

Michael grins and slides his arm around your waist, his hand resting easily at your hip. “Right, where are my manners?” he says introducing you to the team.

You smile, trying not to let the arm-around-your-waist thing short-circuit your brain. “It’s so nice to meet you all. I’ll get back to my workplace complain-fest and let you return to yours.”

You squeeze his shoulder lightly, but before you step away, his hand shifts on your waist, catching your attention. He leans in and lowers his voice just for you.

“If you head out before we do… come say bye?”

You meet his eyes and nod. “Of course.”

The moment you slide into your seat, your coworkers pounce.

“What the hell was that about?”

“You don’t have friends outside of school.”

“Thanks for introducing us to your hot doctor friends???”

“Wait—HOLY SHIT, was that Dr. McHottie with his arm around your waist? Did I miss a chapter?!”

You laugh and give them the short version. You field a rapid-fire round of teasing, eye-rolls, and maybe a few not-so-subtle attempts to angle to get set up with his coworkers, but eventually the conversation drifts to who cried in the hallway today, who mispronounced “photosynthesis,” and whose turn it is to deal with the PTA bake sale disaster.

Your group starts calling it a night. Long day, longer week. You say your goodbyes and make your way back toward Michael’s table, which has thinned out significantly as well.

He stands when he sees you. “My friends couldn’t hang. I’m calling it a night too—just wanted to say bye.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay if you want another drink, honey,” Dana offers, eyes twinkling.

“Oh, I couldn’t impose—”

“You could never,” Michael says, standing and lightly touching your elbow. “What are you drinking?”

You smile. “Whatever you’re having.”

You settle in at the table. The conversation is easy, flowing from hospital horror stories to favorite dive bars to why Dana is banned from karaoke at two different establishments.

Michael returns with drinks, sliding yours to you and casually resting his hand on your thigh under the table, thumb tracing slow circles that make it a little hard to concentrate on anything Dana is saying.

You laugh, you listen, you really like his friends.

The convos come to a close and you all start heading out. You shrug on your coat, and Michael helps, fingers brushing lightly down your arm.

“Want to walk me home?”

He smile. “I’d love that.”

The conversation is light—teasing, wandering, nothing too deep. You talk about favorite childhood snacks and your worst Halloween costumes. He tells you how Jack once sliced his palm on a pineapple slicer and tried to pretend it wasn’t bleeding.

As you reach your apartment steps, you stop and turn to him.

“That was really fun,” you say, quietly. “I like your friends. I hope I didn’t make anything awkward.”

“Not at all,” he replies. “They loved you.”

“Good. Glad I passed the first big test.”

He chuckles. “Teachers and their testing.”

There’s a pause. Then: “So… want to come up?” you ask, voice soft but steady.

He hesitates, not pulling away. “I’d really like to. But I just came off a twelve-hour shift, and I’ve probably had two more drinks than I should’ve. If I sit down, I’m going to be half-asleep in seconds.”

You take his hand and start walking him toward your door.

“Then that’s settled,” you say. “Can’t have you falling asleep in the Uber.”

You open the door, letting the warm light spill into the hallway, and look back at him with a little smile.

He follows you in without another word.

You flick on the light and immediately cringe.

“Wow. Sorry. My place looks like my classroom exploded in here.”

Michael steps in behind you, taking in the scattered worksheets, the pile of books on your couch, and the half-folded laundry draped over a chair.

“You should see the trauma bay on a Tuesday,” he says, tossing his jacket over the back of a stool. “This is a spa by comparison.”

You kick aside a rogue glue stick. “I did mean to clean today, but then 30 small humans and their guardians demanded to know if their kid is ‘thriving academically’ while also asking what ‘phonics’ actually is.”

He snorts.

You pad to the kitchen and grab two glasses of water, handing one to him. “Doctor’s orders.”

He grins. “Responsible and charming.”

You sit on the couch, tucking your legs underneath you. He follows, moving slowly—like someone who’s used to being on his feet for twelve hours and finally has permission to stop.

He slouches into the other end of the couch, long legs stretched out, one arm thrown over the backrest. He takes a sip of water and closes his eyes for a second, just breathing.

“I’m gonna fall asleep right here,” he murmurs.

You smile. “Go for it. My couch has a strict no-judgment zone.”

There’s a long, easy silence after that. Not awkward—just soft.

Eventually, you get up and offer him a hand “you’re not sleeping on the couch, come on”

He reaches for your hand —warm fingers curling around yours for just a second longer than necessary.

He follows you to your room, hands still intertwined. It’s not the first time you’ve shared a bed, but it is the first time you’ve shared one without hooking up before. It all feels very intimate.

There’s a surgical precision to how he fits into your evening routine that leaves you a little breathless as you settle into bed.

“Night,” he murmurs wrapping an arm around you and nuzzling in.

You squeeze his hand once, gently. “Goodnight, Michael.”

[dragonsondragons]

Please like/reblog this if you are a writer, giffer, poster, or just a fan of The Pitt so I can follow you (under my main blog @biomedicalshark) 💕🥰

[dragonsondragons]

Self Care - Jack Abbot x Resident!Reader

Summary: Jack’s new girlfriend takes self care really seriously given the line of work they’re in. He starts to observe these habits and some of them rub off on him.

Tags: Super fluffy, no use of y/n, implied age gap, suggested sexual activity, no real smut just Jack feeling you up a little, beekeeper!Jack

Author’s Note: Why am I obsessed with beekeeper!jack. There may be more where this came from because I had so much fun with this one– perhaps Jack and reader gardening (wink wink) while in their garden? Leads to sweet and slow stoned sex? Let me know what you think or if you have any requests! I’m always looking for more ideas. 

Also, fill out this google form if you'd like to be added to my taglist :)

You do your little stretching routine after you wake up and you ask him if he wants to join you. He gives it a try, reluctantly at first. Then he starts to realize how good it makes him feel and does it with you every time. 

“What's this pep in your step you got going on here, brother?” Robby notices one day at hand-off. “Something to do with your favorite resident? Or should I say…new lady friend,” he does a little jazz hands.

“I regret ever telling you about us,” Jack rolls his eyes at lady friend. “But yeah, actually. She’s got me stretching when we wake up,” he explains.

“Ah. She’s got you whipped is what you mean.”

Jack chuckles under his breath. “Fuck off, stretching is good for you. And being whipped isn’t so bad either.” ____

You have a little garden that you tend to in the morning as the sun’s still rising right when you get off shift. It's cathartic, to take care of something that can't puke or bleed on you. Can’t punch you in the face. 

Both you and Jack had worked last night and it was a tough one. One of those nights where it felt like you lost more than you saved. You asked Jack to come back to your place after the shift ended, just wanting to be near him after your hell of a day. 

It was still early in your relationship, you had only spent the night at Jack’s place. This was his first time coming to stay at yours. 

You could tell he was so exhausted that you offered to drive home and he eventually accepted. He sat in the passenger seat of his Tacoma with his eyes closed as you drove, envisioning a shower, you looking soft in a ratty old t-shirt, and eating take out on the couch before going to sleep.

Instead, after you made two mugs of tea and set one before him on the coffee table, you headed to the backyard, slipping through the sliding glass door with a quiet “be right back, have to take care of some stuff real quick.”

After you’re gone more than 10 minutes and he almost dozed off twice, he started to wonder what this stuff was. He peeks out the glass door, seeing you knelt down at the edge of a garden bed peeling weeds out of the ground around your plants. The garden hose was on, filling up a big watering can to your left.

He comes to stand next to your kneeling form, placing a tender hand on the crown of your head and lightly running his fingers through your hair. “What are you doing, baby?”

“Checking on the plants. It helps me clear my mind from the day.” You smile softly up at him, see his free hand rub at his weary eyes. “Why don’t you go hop in the shower, I’ll be right in," you promise. He nods, turns to head back inside. 

He couldn’t believe you wanted to be pulling weeds and lugging watering cans after a shift. But when you trailed in a few minutes later, joining him under the spray of the water, he could see the way your shoulders were looser. You were more peaceful, at ease. It made him feel more calm too, just knowing you felt a little bit better. 

He started lugging bags of soil for you the following mornings. Dug up trenches to lay a new irrigation system for the crops. This time of spring brought so many birds tweeting around in the morning air, the perfect sound track to your calming moments together in the garden.

It was a peaceful endeavor, one Jack never thought he would find himself doing but turns out he absolutely loves it. After you tell him about the benefits of pollinators he really wants to start keeping bees (Jack Abbot is beekeeping age). He does all this research about it to make sure he doesn’t fuck with the bees, wants to do it right. Gets the whole mesh suit which you can't stop laughing at the first time he puts it on. Names his hive Beetopia. He's serious about these bees and you find it so endearing. You love that he's meshing into your life like this, making his own niche in something you both do together.

Sometimes when there isn’t much to be done he’ll make breakfast while you tend to the garden. He will always try to utilize the fruits and vegetables you grow as well as his self-harvested honey whenever he can. You eat it out on the patio, admiring the work the two of you have done. Your own little paradise. ____

Out of all the self care tactics that you have brought into his life, the bubble bath is definitely one of his sleeper favorites. His house had a huge bathtub in it that he never once used. One of the first times you stayed over, you went to use the bathroom before going to bed. His eyes were already closed when he heard you squeal in the en suite attached to his room. 

“How did you not tell me about this!” you yelled out to him. 

“What, the bathroom?” he responded half asleep and confused. You came back into the room and jumped into the bed next to him, resting your chin on his chest. He peeked his eyes open as he rubbed up and down your back.

“No! That massive tub, genius!” He was surprised. Hadn’t thought once about that thing since he moved in. 

“You like it?”

“I don't like it, Jack. I love it. Baths are so soothing and rejuvenating. I always feel like a newborn baby when I get out of the bath. And I don't have a tub at my place.”

“You’re welcome to use it anytime you want, honey.” He shifted you to your side, cuddling into you and kissing your cheek. 

“You’re too good to me. And as a reward I’m making you get in there with me.” he lets out a breath of a laugh as he drifts off to sleep with you in his arms. ___

You both had the next day off, for once. So there was no time like the present to christen Jack’s bathtub. He was nervous about getting in, not being able to wear his prosthetic to keep him stable, but you got in first and held onto him tight as he stepped over the edge and eased himself down into the water. You settled in front of him, letting out a breath as you melted back into him. 

You thought you liked baths already, but this was pure bliss. His strong body against you, your breaths synching up. He washed your hair and you washed his. The warm water soothed his achy back and the overcompensating muscles in his leg. 

Safe to say, baths become a regular occurrence for you two.

You get him a matching fluffy robe with a hood because one time he said he was jealous of how cozy you looked in yours after a bath. Once, Shen stopped by to drop off the butterfly portable ultrasound that he had borrowed and Jack answered the door in said robe. 

Jack had his stoic work face on, the grumpiness only enhanced by the fact that Shen’s visit was interrupting his time with you.

“Ha, you look like a Sith, Abbot,” Shen teased him, butterfly in one hand and a half drank Dunkin’ in the other. “Robe’d up and about to cut my hand off.” He took a loud sip of his coffee as Jack just glared at him. 

“Get out of here before I actually consider it.” He tugged the Butterfly from Shen’s grasp, about to slam the door in his face. 

“Oh c'mon Jack, that’s not very nice.” You ran up to the door and opened it further to reveal yourself. 

“Sorry John, he didn’t mean that.” 

“Yeah right.” He takes in your appearance beside Jack, wearing the same exact fuzzy robe. “Like the matchy matchy, very cute you two.” Shen pulls out his phone and snaps a picture before either of you could even process it. “That’s totally going in the group chat, dude,” he laughed. 

“Not making a good case for yourself here,” Jack muttered. Shen couldnt stop laughing, and at that you moved your hand off the door jamb and let Jack slam it shut. 

He turned to you then and let out a little chuckle at the whole ordeal. “He’s a piece of work.”

“Thought he was your favorite resident?”

“No, you're my favorite resident.” ___

Besides stretching to start the day on a good note, taking soothing baths, and tending to your garden you also do yoga sometimes to turn your mind off and tune into your body after a hectic shift. He’s still reluctant to try that one, and likes to give you your space to do the things you enjoy on your own sometimes. So he doesn't join you for that, but he loves watching you as you get ready to head to the studio. 

You always wear these skin tight, colorful matching workout sets that drive him crazy. He doesn’t mean to keep you from getting to class, but sometimes he just can’t help the temptation.

“Baby,” he draws it out in a long groan. He crossed the room to you, grabbing your hips and ghosting his hands up and down, reverently. You were trying to gather your keys and yoga mat to head out the door. “You’re killing me here with the powder blue.” The leggings hugged your ass just right. God, he was about to start drooling.

You try to squirm out of his hold to put your shoes on, but he won't budge. “Get a good look, Jack, because I gotta go. Gonna be late if I don't leave right now.” 

“Oh no, you're gonna be late already? Maybe you should just stay here with me,” he pouts suggestively. 

“Already paid for the class. Actually you did, your card’s on the account.” With your resident salary, Jack liked to treat you to things like a membership to a fancy yoga studio with free green smoothies. He loved ‘providing’ for you, even though you both knew you could be just fine by yourself. 

“Even better. I don't care about losing 30 bucks right now. Because you look way too sexy in those leggings to leave me here all alone.” He pecks your lips, then down your neck, sucking the spot where he knows will draw out a moan from you. You grasp your hand into his hair, getting lost in his efforts to entice you. 

“Let me peel these off of you,” he begs, running his fingers under the waistband of the leggings. His hands travel lower, kneading at your ass and pulling you tighter against him. “Just let me worship your beautiful body, sweetheart.”

How could you say no to that? Maybe you would miss your class, but this was a form of self care as good as any.

[dragonsondragons]

Daylight: Month Four

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of PittFest, Robby opens up about his family history (mention of camps), a really emotional chapter tbh but it’s a bit shorter than the rest

Chapters: Month One, Month Two, Month Three, Month Four

Description: Robby and the reader have someone important reveal their baby’s gender, and Robby finds an old family heirloom as their baby’s first gift.

Michael Robinavitch Masterlist

—

Robby’s knee bounced with anxiety, eyes focused on the door of the cafe. He hadn’t even touched his coffee, arms crossed over his chest. You, on the other hand, were contently munching on some kind of pastry that you couldn’t pronounce, but maybe that’s why it tasted so good.

“Need your nicotine gum?” You muffled through bites of your treat.

Your fiance pulled his lips to the side, revealing the gum he was already chewing between his teeth, eyes riveted on the door. “This isn’t a good idea.” He gritted.

You placed a hand on his bicep, squeezing gently. “Robby. It’s gonna be fine. You two have made great progress.” You soothed.

Robby only looked away from the door to the envelope that rested in the middle of the table. “I just don’t want to overwhelm him. I don’t want to backtrack on the progress.” He confessed.

You took a sip of your decaffeinated iced coffee to soothe your cravings. “You’re overthinking this.”

Your level-headed response almost annoyed him. He looked at you, sipping on your iced drink with not a worry in the world. “You know, when I say that to you, you get angry at me.” He protested.

You shrugged and winked at him, and he rewarded you with a small smile that quickly vanished when the bell rang over the cafe door. Jake walked in, scanning the tables until he spotted the two of you. He grinned and headed over.

You rose to your feet and threw your arms around him. Even though you were closer in age to him than you were to Robby, Jake had quickly warmed up to you. Even after PittFest, you continued to talk with him while he and Robby mended their relationship slowly but surely. For a while, you served as a middle man for their communication, mediating the best you could.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” You greeted, hugging him tightly.

Jake laughed as he returned your embrace. “Good to see you, too. Sorry I couldn’t make coffee last week. Had an exam to study for.” He apologized.

You waved him off. “No worries. You better be making A’s.” You teased.

The boy smiled proudly. “Always.” He replied.

Robby stood awkwardly behind you, waiting for his turn to speak, rustling his faux hawk as he ran an anxious hand through his hair. Jake looked to him, and the tension was still there. The memories of blood and tears and hateful words that could never be taken back. Leah’s lifeless body underneath his hands. Before the shooting, Robby would have hugged him as tight as he could, but now, he was afraid to even shake his hand.

Instead, Robby just offered his fist, and Jake bumped his against it. “Hey, man. How are you?” Robby greeted.

Jake shrugged but smiled slightly. “Can’t complain.”

The small talk was forced. But at least they were talking. You sat down at the table again, and they followed suit. Jake’s favorite drink and pastry were already on the table waiting for him, just like every time he and Robby met up.

“So, what’s the surprise? Are we going on a fishing trip?” Jake asked, looking at Robby as he munched on his pastry that looked a little too good and maybe you were going to have to get Robby to get one for you.

You looked at Robby and gave him a smile of encouragement. Robby folded his hands in front of him on the table, fidgeting with his thumbs. “Um…” He mumbled. “We’re having a baby.”

The words were simple and quiet. But Jake’s eyes widened. “A baby?” He repeated, mouth agape.

Robby nodded and couldn’t help but smile a little bit. “Yeah.” He confirmed.

After looking between you and Robby to see if there was some kind of punchline, Jake beamed with excitement. “No fucking way!” He exclaimed, tapping his hands on the table.

You giggled at his reaction, and Robby broke into a laugh of pure relief. “16 weeks.” You announced.

Jake leaned in closer. “Is it a boy or girl?” He asked, eyes shining with curiosity.

You waited for your fiance to answer, knowing that every interaction was calculated and diligent. “Actually,” Robby pushed the white envelope toward Jake with a shaking hand, “we wanted you to tell us.” He answered.

Jake met Robby’s eyes, his smile dropping a bit. “You want me to know first?” He asked earnestly.

Robby smiled as naturally as he could, trying to mask his anxiety. “The nurse said it’ll be in the top left corner of the paper.” He explained.

Jake took the envelope and flipped it in his hands until he found the seal. Robby’s hand grasped yours tightly, trying to ground himself through the whirlwind of emotions he was experiencing. You felt your heart speed up as Jake tore open the envelope and unfolded the paper.

“Are you ready?” Jake asked before letting himself read the results.

You and Robby both nodded, breathing shakily at the anticipation. Jake’s eyes scanned the paper, and a smile broke on his face. He looked directly at Robby, and it was the first time in months that he smiled at him like that.

“It’s a girl.”

A girl. The words echoed through your mind. You were having a baby girl. Tears stung your eyes, and you placed your free hand on your belly. Robby took in a shaky breath, and his entire face went red, all the way to his ears as he fought back tears.

“A girl?” He breathed and looked to you, bottom lip quivering. “We’re having a baby girl.”

You nodded and squeezed his hand tightly. “I know you wanted a boy, but-“

Robby shook his head, clenching his eyes shut. “No.” His voice cracked. “I’ve always wanted a girl.”

Jake laughed with joy, reading the paper again. “I’m gonna have a baby sister?” He asked without missing a beat.

Robby’s eyes snapped to Jake, widened with shock. The question was simple, but the implication was so much more. After berating the old attending just a few months ago when Leah died. Denying him the position as a father figure in a fit of anger despite doing more for the boy in just a few years than his real father did his entire life. When patients asked him if he had any kids, he no longer answered with “Yes, I have a step son.” He would just quietly shake his head with negation.

Then the dam broke. Robby’s body wracked with sobs, and he let go of your hand to cover his face, trying to mask his unexpected reaction. Instinctively, you scooted closer to him and threw your arms around him. Jake did the same, their first hug since PittFest. Unconscious tears fell from the teenager’s eyes as the catharsis mended an old wound. Robby was surrounded on both sides with embraces from the people who loved him most.

He eventually pulled you both in closer to him as he managed to catch his breath. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.” He apologized with a breathy laugh, voice cracking through the emotions.

You wiped some of the wetness on his cheek away with your thumb, ignoring the tears that fell down yours. “The barista probably thinks Jake just told you that you’re dying or something.” You teased.

And your little family all laughed together for the first time in months in that cafe.

—

After an hour of catching up, you and Robby parted ways with Jake, promising to see him again next week for coffee. On the ride home, Robby held your hand across the console, rubbing circles on the dorsum of your hand with his thumb. You looked over to him when he stopped at a red light. He had a smile on his face that hadn’t faded since the cafe.

“So this whole time you were trying to gaslight me into thinking the baby was gonna be a boy?” You asked, a playfulness in your voice.

Robby chuckled and shook his head, eyes still on the traffic light. “No. I was trying to gaslight the baby. Because I figured whatever I wanted, the baby would be the opposite.” He explained.

You rolled your eyes but laughed nonetheless. “Crazy old man.” You muttered, squeezing his hand. “I think you’re meant to be a girl dad.”

He let off the brakes as the light turned green, continuing the journey home. “Why do you think that?”

You shrugged, watching the pedestrians on the sidewalk as you drove by. “It’s just your vibe.” You replied simply.

“My vibe.” He repeated the youthful lingo in his mouth with a small laugh. The car was silent following that, with just the radio playing as background noise. As Robby pulled into the driveway of your house, he gave your hand one last squeeze. “Go on in. I need to get something from the attic.” He said.

You did as he said, stepping inside your warm home. Without a thought, you walked into the spare bedroom. It would become the nursery. You sat on the guest bed, crossing your legs, imagining the color that you would paint the walls, where the crib would go, how many stuffed animals to collect.

Robby walked into the room, holding a tiny, weathered box. His eyes were fixed on it, not looking up as he sat next to you on the bed.

“Whatcha got there?” You asked.

He silently opened the box. He gingerly lifted a small, dainty bracelet that hung from his large fingers. A Star of David charm clung to the chain, and you could just barely see a Hebrew word etched into the Star.

“It was my savta’s when she was a baby.” He explained and took in a deep breath. “It was the only thing that wasn’t taken when they…” His voice caught, struggling to recall his family history. “When they sent her family to the camp.” He swallowed thickly, and you rubbed a calming hand on his back. “When she went back to their house years later, she found it tucked under a floorboard where her mother had hidden it.”

He opened your palm and let you hold the small bracelet. In that moment, you felt a powerful connection to his past, something you didn’t get to hear about often.

“Before she died, she gave it to me and told me to give it to my daughter. To tell her how Robinavitches persevere. To tell our family’s story.” Robby explained, brushing his thumb over the charm. “I never thought I would ever have a daughter to give it to.”

That’s when his eyes met yours. They glimmered with tears, but he smiled anyway. My God, it’s so beautiful when that boy smiles. You closed your hand over his, encasing the bracelet in between.

“What was her name?” You asked.

“Elisheba Rabinovitch. The “a” and the “o” were swapped around when she moved to America.” He explained.

“Elisheba.” You repeated. “Is it Hebrew?”

He nodded, unconsciously rubbing the pendant underneath his shirt. “Yeah. It translates to Elizabeth.”

“Was Rabinovitch always her last name?” You asked.

Robby nodded. “Her husband died before my dad was born, so her last name passed on to him.” He explained.

“Did she ever call you Robby?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Oh, no. Always Mikhael.” The Hebrew pronunciation rolled off his tongue with ease. “But I like being called Robby. It feels like I’m more connected to her in that way.”

You smiled and rested your head on his shoulder. “She would be so proud of you.” You noted.

Robby just hummed in acknowledgment, hopeful that your words were true. You moved his hand with yours to rest on your swelling stomach, pressing the tiny bracelet against it. As you held your daughter’s first gift in your joined hands, you decided on her name. You didn’t tell Robby then, but your mind had been made up.

Elizabeth Robinavitch.

—

A/N: I cannot WAIT to write the next chapter because Jack and Robby are gonna set up the baby’s nursery (or: how many ER attendings does it take to put a crib together?) 🥰

[dragonsondragons]

Part 1 should be up this weekend if all goes to plan folks! Probably Sunday, stay tuned :)

Prologue/Hard To Resist

Part of the You Should Probably Leave series

Description: In which Jack’s therapist challenges him to enjoy the daytime and he admits he has a work crush.

Warnings: yearning!jack, medical social worker!reader, reader is Jack’s work crush, slow burn, tons of therapy, working through trauma, Jack on his #healingjourney, angst, unspecified age gap. 

Word Count: 2.1k

Authors Note: Enjoy the first little snippet of this story! This part is solely Abbot's POV during a therapy session, but next part we will see him interacting with reader and the rest of the Pitt crew. Yay! Let the yearning begin, hope you enjoy :) This series is based on the song You Should Probably Leave by Chris Stapleton, I would highly recommend giving it a listen before/while reading.

(I thought this gif from Chicago PD was so Jack at his therapists office lol)

[Masterlist]

Jack’s therapist had recommended that he try to get more comfortable in the daytime. His relative ease in the darkness of the night was a useful coping mechanism for a time, she explained to him one session, but he didn't have to be in fight mode anymore. She was encouraging him to seek out safety and connection in the daytime so that his past had less control over his present. 

Jack had scoffed when she said that. Because what else does his past do than rear its ugly head every moment of every day? And did he even want to forget it? All of those soldiers he couldn’t save? They deserved to be remembered. 

“This isn’t about forgetting them,” she reminded him, “but rather processing your past experiences so that they are less distressing in the present. Putting yourself outside of your comfort zone of the night could be empowering. It could give you enough space to hold those people with you and move forward living as full of a life as you can. In their honor.”

“In their honor,” Jack echoed, mulling it over. He could do that. He wanted to do that. Move forward. That’s why he was doing all this work in therapy. But one thing he had come to find out, is that actually changing is a lot harder than knowing you want to. 

“Any ideas on what could be your first attempt at enjoying the daytime? Maybe some sort of social interaction,” she led him with her question. Her and Jack had talked about the power of improving social bonds before, how they can create community and give someone a deeper experience of life. Jack promised to give it a try but admittedly doesn't follow through much on that one. Jack didn’t really want a deeper experience of life if that meant opening yourself up to feeling all the pain that comes along with it more deeply, too.

“I don’t know, doc. I don't have many friends.” 

“Outside of work, you mean?” she said, surprised at his statement. He spoke of his coworkers all the time, they seemed plenty friendly.

“Well…there’s Robby. We hang out outside of work.” By that, he means that they push each other around at beer league hockey when their work schedules allow it and then grab a beer after. Other than that, their main points of interaction are admittedly at work, often on the roof of PTMC. 

“Yes, there’s Robby. But that's not exactly out of your comfort zone. That's pretty firmly within it from what I know.” Jack was silent, not keeping eye contact like he usually does. She could see there was something he wasn’t letting on. She never forced Jack to talk about anything he wasn’t ready to. That's something he appreciated about his therapist. But she also knew when she could push him a little bit. “Anyone else, then?” He’s silent again. She let it simmer, waiting for him to fill the gaps.

“There’s someone I work with,” Jack blurts out, his ears turning red. His knee was bouncing up and down. 

Your face flashed in his mind and he wrung his hands together. Jack was usually good at composure, but he found himself starting to crumble at the mere thought of you.

“You seem a little nervous. Care to tell me more about this someone?”

“Uh, well…yeah, she makes me a little nervous sometimes. But mostly she calms me down.” He wasn’t letting on much.

“Hmm, what about her calms you down?” his therapist hummed, encouraging him to continue.

“She's a social worker in the ED. Smart, caring, great at what she does,” he rambles. “We eat lunch together sometimes. If the timing works out on shift. When I'm having a shitty time at work… sometimes she makes me feel better. Just her being there.” He thinks about your knee brushing against his under the table after he made you laugh. Some stupid story about a guy who broke his femur literally slipping on a banana peel.

“So what about her makes you nervous then, if she makes you feel better?” 

“I mean– she's beautiful, that's mostly what makes me nervous.”

I can’t believe I just said all that, he facepalms internally. With all the respressing Jack does, sometimes a feeling will just catch up to him out of nowhere. There are a lot of things he used to distract himself throughout the day. From working in the ED or drowning out the silence at home with the police scanner, to working out until his whole body ached and volunteering at the VA. But there was never enough to fully distract him, eventually whatever it was he was trying to prevent floats to the surface.

After losing his wife years ago, after losing his brothers in a desert overseas, Jack had played it pretty close to the chest with his feelings. If he doesn't show his emotions, even to himself, then he could try to pretend they don’t exist. That the pain doesn’t exist. 

But that's why he’s in therapy, because the pain still very much exists. And one day he finally realized he couldn’t go on any longer without doing something about it. That was more than a year ago now. 

For this to work, you have to be honest with me, he remembers his therapist saying in their first session. But most importantly you have to be honest with yourself.  

If he’s being real honest with himself, he likes you. He had barely even admitted it to himself before today, but god he likes you. And with each day you were getting harder and harder for him to resist. 

Now, he had practically announced the crush to his therapist. Admitting out loud that he has some type of feelings for you made him more nervous than anything else. He couldn’t deny it now. Time to be honest.

“Maybe you should invite her to do something with you,” she proposes with a knowing look. 

“I don't know if that would be a good idea,” Jack says earnestly. Maybe he had admitted the crush but that doesn't mean he was ready to do something about it. 

“Why’s that?”

“Because she probably doesn't want anything to do with this,” he gestures around himself vigorously, slightly worked up. “I’m a little fucked up, and scary, I guess… I’ve heard people say.” And old, he thinks to himself, too old for her at least.

“Did she tell you she wants nothing to do with you?”

“No.”

“Then you don't know that. You said you eat lunch together. If she chooses to spend her valuable break time with you she likely enjoys being around you.” His face is full of apprehension. “You’re allowed to let yourself have good things, Jack.”

“There’s this part of me that wants to believe that,” he admits quietly. He’s opened this door now and there’s no closing it. He can’t help being drawn to you anymore. “But there's also a louder part of me screaming run.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, head hanging and taking a deep sigh.

“Remember that the brain’s automatic response is not always logical. Sometimes the loudest voice is actually the most illogical. And if you listen to it, it can cause you to spiral.”

“I've been thinking about that one, doc. I’ve been trying. To stop the spiral.” That’s one of the biggest challenges for him. To not let flashes of dark moments spiral into a category five hurricane. To take back his agency over his thoughts.  

“Good. How is it going?” He blows out a long breath, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Not so great. For a long time, my automatic thoughts,” he puts up air quotes around the phrase, “My instincts, they saved my life. Saved other guys lives in the med tent. So it's kinda hard to rewrite that pathway.” A lot of the time, he couldn't help but feel like ordinary decisions still meant life or death. So much anxiety had built up inside him that it felt like if he chose the wrong thing at the grocery store a bomb would explode.

“You’re not at war anymore though, Jack. Letting yourself enjoy this woman’s presence in your life won’t get anyone killed.” 

“Yeah.” Again, he’s quiet, remembering. 

“Part of processing is not letting past trauma control the now. Remember, things can be different this time. You’re encountering a whole different set of challenges in the present that don’t always require the tools of the past.”

“My shrink, always so wise,” Jack jokes.

“I asked you not to call me that,” she scolds him.

“Sorry, got a lot I'm working on at the moment.”

This gets his therapist to crack a smile, glancing down at her watch. “Time to wrap up. Keep working at that– making the choice to challenge your automatic thoughts. What's important is that you try to recognize them as they pop up and inquire as to why you may think that it’s true. It takes time and repetition, but you’ll get there. You’re doing well, really.” 

“Thanks, doc.”

“And don't forget your homework. To do something out during the daytime. Not errands or the gym, but something you’ll have fun doing.”  Jack rolls his eyes. She must really think I'm a snooze fest, he thinks.

“I know you can have fun, Jack. You’re human, just like the rest of us.” Sometimes he felt like a cyborg forged for war that would never be wired for civilian life ever again. But that’s all he was now, a civilian. A doctor. Not a cyborg, just a man. Through the sludge of his past– all that he’s seen and felt– what he has to do now is figure out how to live again. Too many years have passed him by in a haze.

“Whatever you say doc.” He does a loose salute with his fingers as he gets up from his chair to exit her office. “See ya next week.”

“See you then,” she responds, scribbling down notes from the session as he steps out the door.

“Oh!” she yells after him. “And I’ll give you extra credit if the fun involves this woman from work.” 

Jack only scoffed in response, then blushed in the elevator all the way back down to the lobby.  

————

Driving from his therapist’s office to the pit, he brainstormed what he could do for his “daylight assignment”. Just the thought of it was setting him on edge. All of the people and noises and atrocities that happen while everyone is awake. He’d do whatever this is in the day time, sure. But firmly in the afternoon so that the comfort of night would come soon enough and greet him, he decided. 

He wants it at his own house too, in his own space, to help dull the anxiety inside him. That would have to mean inviting people over. At least it would be people he chooses to invite, another element he could control. Robby, Dana, Shen, Ellis— they knew Jack, didn't expect too much from him. 

Then there was you. You who had boundless empathy for any patient that walked in the door and extensive knowledge of any resources that could help them. He admired your commitment to the patients and their families, in supporting people outside of just their medical needs. And of course, you radiate beauty like a goddamn emergency department Snow White. 

Your presence simply made Jack feel at ease, and in a place like the Pitt that was a very welcome feeling. But as much as he craved it, Jack was not used to feeling at ease. Eventually, his mind would rebel and tell him to retreat; that the peace was too good to be true. He couldn’t let himself have this. It was too risky. He had to resist.

Automatic thought! He warned himself. Ugh. Jack was tired. Tired of having to be so vigilant even inside his own head. Tired of whatever devil was on his shoulder always whispering in his ear. No, not whispering. Yelling. His therapist was right, the thoughts were loud. What had she said? Inquire why you think these thoughts may be true, he recalls. 

Why does he think he has to resist? Because everything good he’s ever had falls apart. Usually he was the one who ripped it apart. Never on purpose, just through being who he was, who life and war had made him.

Things could be different this time, Jack reminds himself, drumming his thumbs over the steering wheel. He sighs deeply, groans.

As much as he was spooked by the revelation that he couldn't contain his desire for you so well anymore, he was also enflamed by it. He wanted an angel on his shoulder. He wanted you. 

The voice inside of him saying that wasn’t harshly yelling, there were no flashing lights or sirens. It was steady, calm, all encompassing. And pure warmth. Maybe that’s how he can tell it's the right voice to listen to. 

Fuck it. He decided. I’m gonna throw a party and she’s gonna be the goddamn guest of honor. 

[dragonsondragons]

Sweetie boyfriend Jack Abbot lets you pick out new shirts for him. He’s already hot but no one is immune to a little girlfriend glow up. He doesn’t typically wear a ton of colors or patterns but loves when you tell him he looks handsome so now he’s always wearing the new shirts.

You’re going on vacation and he sets out all his outfits and the bed when he’s packing and is like “babe what do you think😃” all proud of himself for matching the shirts to the appropriate colored khaki just as you told him.

He’s all proud when you look absolutely stunning in your flowy beach dress and he feels like he’s dressed well enough to be on your arm, showing you off. He gets a stranger to take a picture of you both on the beach.

SHAWN HATOSY as CLAYTON EMERSON Rescue: HI-Surf | Flowback (1.18)

[dragonsondragons]

Masterlist

[last updated 5/27/25]

If you would like to be added to my taglist please fill out this google form

Jack Abbot

Series

You Should Probably Leave (ongoing) Jack's therapist encourages him to reach outside his comfort zone, leaving behind his blanket darkness of night and trying to emerge into the light of day. So, he decides to host a summer barbeque with the Pitt team. As the party is wrapping up and guests trickle out, he can't shake the feeling that how much he wants you to stay really means that you should probably leave.  Prologue - Hard to Resist Part I - That Look In Your Eye Part II - I Know You, You Know Me Part III - Do The Right Thing, Baby Part IV - Sun On Your Skin, 6am

One Shots

Self Care - Jack’s new girlfriend takes self care really seriously given the line of work they’re in. He starts to observe these habits and some of them rub off on him.

[dragonsondragons]

SHAWN HATOSY as JACK ABBOT The Pitt | Season 1

[dragonsondragons]

Self Care - Jack Abbot x Resident!Reader

Summary: Jack’s new girlfriend takes self care really seriously given the line of work they’re in. He starts to observe these habits and some of them rub off on him.

Tags: Super fluffy, no use of y/n, implied age gap, suggested sexual activity, no real smut just Jack feeling you up a little, beekeeper!Jack

Author’s Note: Why am I obsessed with beekeeper!jack. There may be more where this came from because I had so much fun with this one– perhaps Jack and reader gardening (wink wink) while in their garden? Leads to sweet and slow stoned sex? Let me know what you think or if you have any requests! I’m always looking for more ideas. 

Also, fill out this google form if you'd like to be added to my taglist :)

You do your little stretching routine after you wake up and you ask him if he wants to join you. He gives it a try, reluctantly at first. Then he starts to realize how good it makes him feel and does it with you every time. 

“What's this pep in your step you got going on here, brother?” Robby notices one day at hand-off. “Something to do with your favorite resident? Or should I say…new lady friend,” he does a little jazz hands.

“I regret ever telling you about us,” Jack rolls his eyes at lady friend. “But yeah, actually. She’s got me stretching when we wake up,” he explains.

“Ah. She’s got you whipped is what you mean.”

Jack chuckles under his breath. “Fuck off, stretching is good for you. And being whipped isn’t so bad either.” ____

You have a little garden that you tend to in the morning as the sun’s still rising right when you get off shift. It's cathartic, to take care of something that can't puke or bleed on you. Can’t punch you in the face. 

Both you and Jack had worked last night and it was a tough one. One of those nights where it felt like you lost more than you saved. You asked Jack to come back to your place after the shift ended, just wanting to be near him after your hell of a day. 

It was still early in your relationship, you had only spent the night at Jack’s place. This was his first time coming to stay at yours. 

You could tell he was so exhausted that you offered to drive home and he eventually accepted. He sat in the passenger seat of his Tacoma with his eyes closed as you drove, envisioning a shower, you looking soft in a ratty old t-shirt, and eating take out on the couch before going to sleep.

Instead, after you made two mugs of tea and set one before him on the coffee table, you headed to the backyard, slipping through the sliding glass door with a quiet “be right back, have to take care of some stuff real quick.”

After you’re gone more than 10 minutes and he almost dozed off twice, he started to wonder what this stuff was. He peeks out the glass door, seeing you knelt down at the edge of a garden bed peeling weeds out of the ground around your plants. The garden hose was on, filling up a big watering can to your left.

He comes to stand next to your kneeling form, placing a tender hand on the crown of your head and lightly running his fingers through your hair. “What are you doing, baby?”

“Checking on the plants. It helps me clear my mind from the day.” You smile softly up at him, see his free hand rub at his weary eyes. “Why don’t you go hop in the shower, I’ll be right in," you promise. He nods, turns to head back inside. 

He couldn’t believe you wanted to be pulling weeds and lugging watering cans after a shift. But when you trailed in a few minutes later, joining him under the spray of the water, he could see the way your shoulders were looser. You were more peaceful, at ease. It made him feel more calm too, just knowing you felt a little bit better. 

He started lugging bags of soil for you the following mornings. Dug up trenches to lay a new irrigation system for the crops. This time of spring brought so many birds tweeting around in the morning air, the perfect sound track to your calming moments together in the garden.

It was a peaceful endeavor, one Jack never thought he would find himself doing but turns out he absolutely loves it. After you tell him about the benefits of pollinators he really wants to start keeping bees (Jack Abbot is beekeeping age). He does all this research about it to make sure he doesn’t fuck with the bees, wants to do it right. Gets the whole mesh suit which you can't stop laughing at the first time he puts it on. Names his hive Beetopia. He's serious about these bees and you find it so endearing. You love that he's meshing into your life like this, making his own niche in something you both do together.

Sometimes when there isn’t much to be done he’ll make breakfast while you tend to the garden. He will always try to utilize the fruits and vegetables you grow as well as his self-harvested honey whenever he can. You eat it out on the patio, admiring the work the two of you have done. Your own little paradise. ____

Out of all the self care tactics that you have brought into his life, the bubble bath is definitely one of his sleeper favorites. His house had a huge bathtub in it that he never once used. One of the first times you stayed over, you went to use the bathroom before going to bed. His eyes were already closed when he heard you squeal in the en suite attached to his room. 

“How did you not tell me about this!” you yelled out to him. 

“What, the bathroom?” he responded half asleep and confused. You came back into the room and jumped into the bed next to him, resting your chin on his chest. He peeked his eyes open as he rubbed up and down your back.

“No! That massive tub, genius!” He was surprised. Hadn’t thought once about that thing since he moved in. 

“You like it?”

“I don't like it, Jack. I love it. Baths are so soothing and rejuvenating. I always feel like a newborn baby when I get out of the bath. And I don't have a tub at my place.”

“You’re welcome to use it anytime you want, honey.” He shifted you to your side, cuddling into you and kissing your cheek. 

“You’re too good to me. And as a reward I’m making you get in there with me.” he lets out a breath of a laugh as he drifts off to sleep with you in his arms. ___

You both had the next day off, for once. So there was no time like the present to christen Jack’s bathtub. He was nervous about getting in, not being able to wear his prosthetic to keep him stable, but you got in first and held onto him tight as he stepped over the edge and eased himself down into the water. You settled in front of him, letting out a breath as you melted back into him. 

You thought you liked baths already, but this was pure bliss. His strong body against you, your breaths synching up. He washed your hair and you washed his. The warm water soothed his achy back and the overcompensating muscles in his leg. 

Safe to say, baths become a regular occurrence for you two.

You get him a matching fluffy robe with a hood because one time he said he was jealous of how cozy you looked in yours after a bath. Once, Shen stopped by to drop off the butterfly portable ultrasound that he had borrowed and Jack answered the door in said robe. 

Jack had his stoic work face on, the grumpiness only enhanced by the fact that Shen’s visit was interrupting his time with you.

“Ha, you look like a Sith, Abbot,” Shen teased him, butterfly in one hand and a half drank Dunkin’ in the other. “Robe’d up and about to cut my hand off.” He took a loud sip of his coffee as Jack just glared at him. 

“Get out of here before I actually consider it.” He tugged the Butterfly from Shen’s grasp, about to slam the door in his face. 

“Oh c'mon Jack, that’s not very nice.” You ran up to the door and opened it further to reveal yourself. 

“Sorry John, he didn’t mean that.” 

“Yeah right.” He takes in your appearance beside Jack, wearing the same exact fuzzy robe. “Like the matchy matchy, very cute you two.” Shen pulls out his phone and snaps a picture before either of you could even process it. “That’s totally going in the group chat, dude,” he laughed. 

“Not making a good case for yourself here,” Jack muttered. Shen couldnt stop laughing, and at that you moved your hand off the door jamb and let Jack slam it shut. 

He turned to you then and let out a little chuckle at the whole ordeal. “He’s a piece of work.”

“Thought he was your favorite resident?”

“No, you're my favorite resident.” ___

Besides stretching to start the day on a good note, taking soothing baths, and tending to your garden you also do yoga sometimes to turn your mind off and tune into your body after a hectic shift. He’s still reluctant to try that one, and likes to give you your space to do the things you enjoy on your own sometimes. So he doesn't join you for that, but he loves watching you as you get ready to head to the studio. 

You always wear these skin tight, colorful matching workout sets that drive him crazy. He doesn’t mean to keep you from getting to class, but sometimes he just can’t help the temptation.

“Baby,” he draws it out in a long groan. He crossed the room to you, grabbing your hips and ghosting his hands up and down, reverently. You were trying to gather your keys and yoga mat to head out the door. “You’re killing me here with the powder blue.” The leggings hugged your ass just right. God, he was about to start drooling.

You try to squirm out of his hold to put your shoes on, but he won't budge. “Get a good look, Jack, because I gotta go. Gonna be late if I don't leave right now.” 

“Oh no, you're gonna be late already? Maybe you should just stay here with me,” he pouts suggestively. 

“Already paid for the class. Actually you did, your card’s on the account.” With your resident salary, Jack liked to treat you to things like a membership to a fancy yoga studio with free green smoothies. He loved ‘providing’ for you, even though you both knew you could be just fine by yourself. 

“Even better. I don't care about losing 30 bucks right now. Because you look way too sexy in those leggings to leave me here all alone.” He pecks your lips, then down your neck, sucking the spot where he knows will draw out a moan from you. You grasp your hand into his hair, getting lost in his efforts to entice you. 

“Let me peel these off of you,” he begs, running his fingers under the waistband of the leggings. His hands travel lower, kneading at your ass and pulling you tighter against him. “Just let me worship your beautiful body, sweetheart.”

How could you say no to that? Maybe you would miss your class, but this was a form of self care as good as any.

[dragonsondragons]

Prologue - Hard To Resist | You Should Probably Leave series

In which Jack’s therapist challenges him to enjoy the daytime and he admits he has a work crush.

Content: yearning!jack, medical social worker!reader, reader is Jack’s work crush, slow burn, tons of therapy, working through trauma, Jack on his #healingjourney, angst, unspecified age gap. 

Word Count: 2.1k

Authors Note: Enjoy the first little snippet of this story! This part is solely Abbot's POV during a therapy session, but next part we will see him interacting with reader and the rest of the Pitt crew. Yay! Let the yearning begin, hope you enjoy :) This series is based on the song You Should Probably Leave by Chris Stapleton, I would highly recommend giving it a listen before/while reading.

(I thought this gif from Chicago PD was so Jack at his therapists office lol)

[Next part] [Masterlist]

Jack’s therapist had recommended that he try to get more comfortable in the daytime. His relative ease in the darkness of the night was a useful coping mechanism for a time, she explained to him one session, but he didn't have to be in fight mode anymore. She was encouraging him to seek out safety and connection in the daytime so that his past had less control over his present. 

Jack had scoffed when she said that. Because what else does his past do than rear its ugly head every moment of every day? And did he even want to forget it? All of those soldiers he couldn’t save? They deserved to be remembered. 

“This isn’t about forgetting them,” she reminded him, “but rather processing your past experiences so that they are less distressing in the present. Putting yourself outside of your comfort zone of the night could be empowering. It could give you enough space to hold those people with you and move forward living as full of a life as you can. In their honor.”

“In their honor,” Jack echoed, mulling it over. He could do that. He wanted to do that. Move forward. That’s why he was doing all this work in therapy. But one thing he had come to find out, is that actually changing is a lot harder than knowing you want to. 

“Any ideas on what could be your first attempt at enjoying the daytime? Maybe some sort of social interaction,” she led him with her question. Her and Jack had talked about the power of improving social bonds before, how they can create community and give someone a deeper experience of life. Jack promised to give it a try but admittedly doesn't follow through much on that one. Jack didn’t really want a deeper experience of life if that meant opening yourself up to feeling all the pain that comes along with it more deeply, too.

“I don’t know, doc. I don't have many friends.” 

“Outside of work, you mean?” she said, surprised at his statement. He spoke of his coworkers all the time, they seemed plenty friendly.

“Well…there’s Robby. We hang out outside of work.” By that, he means that they push each other around at beer league hockey when their work schedules allow it and then grab a beer after. Other than that, their main points of interaction are admittedly at work, often on the roof of PTMC. 

“Yes, there’s Robby. But that's not exactly out of your comfort zone. That's pretty firmly within it from what I know.” Jack was silent, not keeping eye contact like he usually does. She could see there was something he wasn’t letting on. She never forced Jack to talk about anything he wasn’t ready to. That's something he appreciated about his therapist. But she also knew when she could push him a little bit. “Anyone else, then?” He’s silent again. She let it simmer, waiting for him to fill the gaps.

“There’s someone I work with,” Jack blurts out, his ears turning red. His knee was bouncing up and down. 

Your face flashed in his mind and he wrung his hands together. Jack was usually good at composure, but he found himself starting to crumble at the mere thought of you.

“You seem a little nervous. Care to tell me more about this someone?”

“Uh, well…yeah, she makes me a little nervous sometimes. But mostly she calms me down.” He wasn’t letting on much.

“Hmm, what about her calms you down?” his therapist hummed, encouraging him to continue.

“She's a social worker in the ED. Smart, caring, great at what she does,” he rambles. “We eat lunch together sometimes. If the timing works out on shift. When I'm having a shitty time at work… sometimes she makes me feel better. Just her being there.” He thinks about your knee brushing against his under the table after he made you laugh. Some stupid story about a guy who broke his femur literally slipping on a banana peel.

“So what about her makes you nervous then, if she makes you feel better?” 

“I mean– she's beautiful, that's mostly what makes me nervous.”

I can’t believe I just said all that, he facepalms internally. With all the respressing Jack does, sometimes a feeling will just catch up to him out of nowhere. There are a lot of things he used to distract himself throughout the day. From working in the ED or drowning out the silence at home with the police scanner, to working out until his whole body ached and volunteering at the VA. But there was never enough to fully distract him, eventually whatever it was he was trying to prevent floats to the surface.

After losing his wife years ago, after losing his brothers in a desert overseas, Jack had played it pretty close to the chest with his feelings. If he doesn't show his emotions, even to himself, then he could try to pretend they don’t exist. That the pain doesn’t exist. 

But that's why he’s in therapy, because the pain still very much exists. And one day he finally realized he couldn’t go on any longer without doing something about it. That was more than a year ago now. 

For this to work, you have to be honest with me, he remembers his therapist saying in their first session. But most importantly you have to be honest with yourself.  

If he’s being real honest with himself, he likes you. He had barely even admitted it to himself before today, but god he likes you. And with each day you were getting harder and harder for him to resist. 

Now, he had practically announced the crush to his therapist. Admitting out loud that he has some type of feelings for you made him more nervous than anything else. He couldn’t deny it now. Time to be honest.

“Maybe you should invite her to do something with you,” she proposes with a knowing look. 

“I don't know if that would be a good idea,” Jack says earnestly. Maybe he had admitted the crush but that doesn't mean he was ready to do something about it. 

“Why’s that?”

“Because she probably doesn't want anything to do with this,” he gestures around himself vigorously, slightly worked up. “I’m a little fucked up, and scary, I guess… I’ve heard people say.” And old, he thinks to himself, too old for her at least.

“Did she tell you she wants nothing to do with you?”

“No.”

“Then you don't know that. You said you eat lunch together. If she chooses to spend her valuable break time with you she likely enjoys being around you.” His face is full of apprehension. “You’re allowed to let yourself have good things, Jack.”

“There’s this part of me that wants to believe that,” he admits quietly. He’s opened this door now and there’s no closing it. He can’t help being drawn to you anymore. “But there's also a louder part of me screaming run.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, head hanging and taking a deep sigh.

“Remember that the brain’s automatic response is not always logical. Sometimes the loudest voice is actually the most illogical. And if you listen to it, it can cause you to spiral.”

“I've been thinking about that one, doc. I’ve been trying. To stop the spiral.” That’s one of the biggest challenges for him. To not let flashes of dark moments spiral into a category five hurricane. To take back his agency over his thoughts.  

“Good. How is it going?” He blows out a long breath, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Not so great. For a long time, my automatic thoughts,” he puts up air quotes around the phrase, “My instincts, they saved my life. Saved other guys lives in the med tent. So it's kinda hard to rewrite that pathway.” A lot of the time, he couldn't help but feel like ordinary decisions still meant life or death. So much anxiety had built up inside him that it felt like if he chose the wrong thing at the grocery store a bomb would explode.

“You’re not at war anymore though, Jack. Letting yourself enjoy this woman’s presence in your life won’t get anyone killed.” 

“Yeah.” Again, he’s quiet, remembering. 

“Part of processing is not letting past trauma control the now. Remember, things can be different this time. You’re encountering a whole different set of challenges in the present that don’t always require the tools of the past.”

“My shrink, always so wise,” Jack jokes.

“I asked you not to call me that,” she scolds him.

“Sorry, got a lot I'm working on at the moment.”

This gets his therapist to crack a smile, glancing down at her watch. “Time to wrap up. Keep working at that– making the choice to challenge your automatic thoughts. What's important is that you try to recognize them as they pop up and inquire as to why you may think that it’s true. It takes time and repetition, but you’ll get there. You’re doing well, really.” 

“Thanks, doc.”

“And don't forget your homework. To do something out during the daytime. Not errands or the gym, but something you’ll have fun doing.”  Jack rolls his eyes. She must really think I'm a snooze fest, he thinks.

“I know you can have fun, Jack. You’re human, just like the rest of us.” Sometimes he felt like a cyborg forged for war that would never be wired for civilian life ever again. But that’s all he was now, a civilian. A doctor. Not a cyborg, just a man. Through the sludge of his past– all that he’s seen and felt– what he has to do now is figure out how to live again. Too many years have passed him by in a haze.

“Whatever you say doc.” He does a loose salute with his fingers as he gets up from his chair to exit her office. “See ya next week.”

“See you then,” she responds, scribbling down notes from the session as he steps out the door.

“Oh!” she yells after him. “And I’ll give you extra credit if the fun involves this woman from work.” 

Jack only scoffed in response, then blushed in the elevator all the way back down to the lobby.  

————

Driving from his therapist’s office to the pit, he brainstormed what he could do for his “daylight assignment”. Just the thought of it was setting him on edge. All of the people and noises and atrocities that happen while everyone is awake. He’d do whatever this is in the day time, sure. But firmly in the afternoon so that the comfort of night would come soon enough and greet him, he decided. 

He wants it at his own house too, in his own space, to help dull the anxiety inside him. That would have to mean inviting people over. At least it would be people he chooses to invite, another element he could control. Robby, Dana, Shen, Ellis— they knew Jack, didn't expect too much from him. 

Then there was you. You who had boundless empathy for any patient that walked in the door and extensive knowledge of any resources that could help them. He admired your commitment to the patients and their families, in supporting people outside of just their medical needs. And of course, you radiate beauty like a goddamn emergency department Snow White. 

Your presence simply made Jack feel at ease, and in a place like the Pitt that was a very welcome feeling. But as much as he craved it, Jack was not used to feeling at ease. Eventually, his mind would rebel and tell him to retreat; that the peace was too good to be true. He couldn’t let himself have this. It was too risky. He had to resist.

Automatic thought! He warned himself. Ugh. Jack was tired. Tired of having to be so vigilant even inside his own head. Tired of whatever devil was on his shoulder always whispering in his ear. No, not whispering. Yelling. His therapist was right, the thoughts were loud. What had she said? Inquire why you think these thoughts may be true, he recalls. 

Why does he think he has to resist? Because everything good he’s ever had falls apart. Usually he was the one who ripped it apart. Never on purpose, just through being who he was, who life and war had made him.

Things could be different this time, Jack reminds himself, drumming his thumbs over the steering wheel. He sighs deeply, groans.

As much as he was spooked by the revelation that he couldn't contain his desire for you so well anymore, he was also enflamed by it. He wanted an angel on his shoulder. He wanted you. 

The voice inside of him saying that wasn’t harshly yelling, there were no flashing lights or sirens. It was steady, calm, all encompassing. And pure warmth. Maybe that’s how he can tell it's the right voice to listen to. 

Fuck it. He decided. I’m gonna throw a party and she’s gonna be the goddamn guest of honor. 

[dragonsondragons]

You Should Probably Leave - Masterlist

Summary: Jack's therapist encourages him to reach outside his comfort zone, leaving behind his blanket darkness of night and trying to emerge into the light of day. So, he decides to host a summer barbeque with the Pitt team. As the party is wrapping up and guests trickle out, he can't shake the feeling that how much he wants you to stay really means that you should probably leave. 

Warnings: yearning!jack, medical social worker!reader, reader is Jack’s work crush, slow burn, tons of therapy, working through trauma, Jack on his #healingjourney, angst, unspecified age gap. 

Author's Note: There are so many Chris Stapleton songs that are so Jack Abbot coded, I couldn't resist with this one. Might expand to do some other chris stapleton songfics after I complete this little series.

Prologue - Hard to Resist In which Jack’s therapist challenges him to enjoy the daytime and he admits he has a work crush. 

Part I - That Look In Your Eye You make big, bad, Jack Abbot nervous in a way he really isn’t used to anymore. He fumbles his first attempt to invite you to the party, so Dr. Ellis gives him a crash course in how to get the girl.

Part II - Alright, Just One Kiss 

Part III - Do the Right Thing, Baby

Part IV - Sun on Your Skin, 6am

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