#jack abbot drabble

[abbotsanatomy]

Can I request a Jack x reader where reader gets hurt while working and Abbot goes insane trying to make sure she’s okay 🤭

⨳ HEART IN YOUR THROAT

pairing: jack abbot x wife!doc!reader warnings: workplace romance, descriptions of injury, depiction of an erratic patient, assault of a healthcare provider. author's note: y'all i wrote this man stressed! (reasonably) he CANNOT lose another wife...

There's a tune stuck in your head, from the drive to work. You're humming it as you look over your most recent patient's labs. But you can't hear yourself anymore when someone yells from somewhere near the ER's ambulance entrance.

'Yell' isn't really the right word, it's more of a shrill screaming that chills you to the core. You're still leaning on the station counter, when you spot Jack running towards the screaming, followed by Ellis.

The computer's immediately abandoned, as you make your way through the ER in a sprint. You pick up a paper gown on the way out, and pull it on, tying it in the back. The emergency entrance's glass doors open automatically, as you make your way through them and onto the road.

It's chilly outside, as can be expected on a winter night in Pittsburgh. You can feel cold air making its way deep into your bones, but you know you have to move quick when you see the patient thrashing violently on a hospital gurney. You can tell Ellis and Jack have already gotten a few kicks to the face, trying to steady the patient's legs, where the blood is making it difficult to asses his injury.

You make for his arms, which are free and way too close to grasping Ellis by the hair. You're pulling him back onto the gurney as gently as possible, pulling both of his arms into yours. There's no way to be reassuring in this kind of situation, but you try anyway. He isn't taking any of it, though. His screaming directly at your face makes you flinch a few times. His wife shouting in the background isn't so comforting either.

Somewhere throughout the struggle, the patient gains on you. You can slowly feel your grip over him slip. With a rough shove from him, you're down on the floor, face planted directly onto the pavement. You can hear a sickening crack when you try to move your face across the concrete. An intense pain shoots up from your nose, and you swear you can feel it in your brain.

"Fuck!" you shout into the ground, and even that hurts.

You can hear John make his way out of the emergency entrance, he almost leans down to check on you, but you give him a thumbs up. You just want this idiot on the gurney out of your sight, then you might get up. He makes his way to help restrain the patient.

Jack's voice is distantly shouting a question at Shen that you can't quite make out. Then, he's right in front of you, pulling you up by your arms before you can protest. There's an almost alarming amount of blood on the pavement where your face was. When he pulls your face up to get a good look, you can taste your own blood making its way down your throat.

You wipe away the blood from your top lip. Any expression you make is so painful you regret ever even having a face. Jack's eyes are going back and forth, analyzing every part of you to make sure there's nothing else besides the glaringly obvious broken nose.

"I think it's..." you take a deep breath in through your mouth, "broken."

The gurney passes you two, crouched on the side of the road. Jack shoots the patient the nastiest glare you've ever seen. He looks ready to kill the man. You're pretty sure he would've at least put him in the hospital if he wasn't already here.

The moment he looks back into your eyes, his face twists into a more comforting expression.

"Yeah?" he smiles, but it barely reaches his eyes, "I think so too, honey. Let's get you up. I'll take care of it."

You let him pull you up to stand. He's still observing you for any signs there might be something else wrong.

"You hurt anywhere else?" he asks, his tone soft.

You shake your head.

Even if you were, you're pretty sure the burning sensation in your face is clouding your judgement. "Nope. Legs just a lil' sore."

"Alright. We'll get 'em looked at."

By that, he means he's going to move you into the ER and damn-near yell at anyone who even suggests he go assist with the patient and let someone else take care of you. You always knew Jack had a protective streak, but seeing it in action is entirely different. You're sure you'd be laughing and making fun of him for it, if speaking and smiling and breathing didn't hurt so bad.

He guides you to one of the ER chairs, and pulls the cubicle curtain closed. The first victim of his very thorough physical examination is your nose, which he packs to stop the bleeding and then gives you a local anesthetic injection in. It dulls the pain and makes the manual realignment feel like barely a gentle pull.

When he's done, he checks you everywhere else. He does a million tests you both know are incredibly excessive. You let him turn your limbs every which way, check your breathing a hundred times, and perform a neuro exam more than ten times, probably.

"I'm fine, Jack," you kindly inform him, for the fifth time since you've sat down, as he flashes a light into your eyes.

He puts the flashlight away and nods, finally acknowledging you. His arms come to rest on your shoulders, his thumbs stroking the skin there. Your eyes meet. When you smile at him, he grimaces.

"Oh my god. Am I really that deformed?" you joke.

He shakes his head slowly, "You could never be anything short of gorgeous in my eyes."

You're about to make another joke, when you realize his eyes hold an intensity in them that's usually reserved for those terribly intimate moments you share, almost exclusively, at your apartment. He looks really fucking scared, too. It’s a proper notch down from how afraid he looked outside, so you’ll take it.

"Where doesn't hurt?" he asks.

You point to your cheek. It isn’t completely pain-free, but it's the only place you can tolerate any kind of pressure and actually feel it. He leans down and presses his lips gently there. It makes your eyes flutter shut instantly. Your hand comes to rest on the back of his neck, keeping him there.

"I think you'll need to perform an even more thorough examination. At home. In bed," you whisper into his ear.

When he laughs against your skin, you turn your face to the side, so you can press your mouth to the side of his jaw. You instantly regret it, though, because your freshly split lip burns.

"Ouch," you complain.

Jack presses one last kiss to your temple, before he pulls away. He grabs his phone out of his front pocket.

"We leave in an hour," he confirms.

"You can nap here. I'll make sure no one wakes you up until it's time to go," his voice is soothing, but you know he's not really asking.

Luckily, you can already feel your eyes droop, so you’re barely arguing anyway. Jack's footsteps are heavy, and when he pulls the curtain open you can tell he hesitates for a moment.

It sounds like he has a smug grin on his face, "And, uh, you're only slightly deformed."

Your eyes shoot open, but before you can grab something to throw at him he's already out of eyeshot.

"You can't say that to your patients, Doctor Abbot!" you yell after him.

The last thing you hear before passing out is his distant laugh.

[mercvry-glow]

Yeeees! Let's talk and walk together for a minute!

I keep thinking about Jacks family. Does he have sinblings? Parents alive? Does he keep in touch with his in laws?

If so, how would they react when after so many years he brings a new SO to meet them? A very much younger and pretty girl...Would they be happy for him? Compare her to his late wife?

I just love me some domestic Jack Abbot 😍 💕

AHH!

In terms of Jack's family, I think it was probably very nuclear. He's the oldest of three, having a younger sister and a younger brother with parents that passed in his mid 30s. He's close with whoever's left to an extent, but he left to join the army for a reason, ya know? He's a good guy—sends gifts and flowers, calls whenever something big happens, but most of the time I think he would stick to himself (and his found family) especially after his first wife's passing.

Let's just say he did start dating again though. You're a pretty, young thing. Someone they definitely didn't expect to be in his life—but they see how happy you make him, how you've gotten him out of his shell and it makes them wonder who you really are.

They don't pry, and he doesn't say much but everyone can see the difference plain as day. Sure visiting is a bit awkward, but you're so sweet and welcoming to whoever walks through the doors of your shared home.

So in their own way they'd be happy for him, even if it was never really any of their business. They're just happy to get the yearly holiday cards with the pictures of the two of you and your curly haired baby.

[dulcebloodhnd]

BABY, NO

pairing: jack abbot x reader

requested by: @orderoftheflamingflamingos

Could I submit a request about Jack dating an EMT/Paramedic and he’s like “You rappelled down a bridge, again?” Like she’s badass and independent but he’s her man and cares about her.

authors note: i tweaked it a little but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless :))

COPYRIGHT ® 2025 DULCEBLOODHND. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. THIS ORIGINAL WORK IS NOT ALLOWED TO BE REPOSTED ON ANY PLATFORM IN ANY FORMAT OR FED TO AI.

Jack was off duty and was not expecting a call from the hospital, it was his day off and he hoped it was going to stay that way. Dana was on the phone, most things blurred together but he heard her name and ‘injured on the job’. He grabbed his keys and left his apartment immediately and headed back into work.

Noise encapsulated the streets and continued way beyond into the emergency department. Bodies of doctors and nurses walked about, small chatter of patients and the distinct clinical aroma of a hospital. You sat perched on the cot, cradling your broken arm between two splints as you waited for a doctor to attend to you.

Dr. Collin’s breached the doorway with your chart listing off the tests that need to be done, ordering an X-ray for your arm and to conduct a physical examination of coordination to check if you had a concussion or not.

Collin’s excused herself after performing the exam and you were left alone in the bay. You overheard ‘where is she?’ and next thing Jack barged into the room.

“What happened?” Jack immediately went to your side.

“Work,” was all you could mutter. Your head rested against the fresh linen pillowcase.

“Don’t tell me you rappelled down a bridge again?”

Silence pursued his question. All you could do was give a guilty exchange of a smile in return.

“A young girl was dangling from below, a failed suicide attempt. The good thing is she is safe with minimal injury. Rather that than her take the brunt of what I got.”

Jack sucked in a breath, his shoulders tense and the crease between his brows prominent. Your uninjured hand grabbed his and rubbed soothing circles around his knuckles.

“I’m okay, baby.”

He sighed as you pulled him down to sit on the edge of the cot, gently tugging his arm to get his body closer towards you. A safe haven. You kissed between his brows then dragging the tip of your nose against his bridge before kissing him again on his lips.

“I’m taking you home with me after we get your sorted. You won’t be leaving my sight for the next couple of weeks,” Jack said.

“As long as I get to spend more time with you.”

“I hope this isn’t a newly developed tactic to spend more time with me.”

“What if it is?” You questioned cheekily.

“Baby, no.”

You laughed and kissed him in small successions until he smiled alongside you. God, aren’t you glad to have him by your side.

[john-get-the-salt]

Rage (w/ Jack Abbott)

Imagine: An incident brings the rage out of Jack, but luckily you have the ability to calm him

Contains: Reader who works in the Pitt in unspecified role, angry/protective Jack

Warnings: brief violence towards reader

AN: you can’t convince me Jack wouldn’t BEAT someone’s ass for you. He totally would. And I would thank him

It all happened so fast you barely had time to comprehend what was going on.

One minute you were working in the Pitt, talking to a couple that came in with a DV related injury. You were trying to deescalate the situation and calm down the raging boyfriend-and the next minute you were on the ground, head pounding and vision swimming.

Had he just hit you? You could taste iron on your lips and your hands were stinging from catching yourself on the ground.

You heard someone yelling in the distance, or was that you? You couldn’t tell-and then someone very close to you was calling for security.

You blinked furiously, trying to clear the black spots and finally you focused as a face was coming into view. Robby.

“What-what happened?”

“Can you stand?”

You nodded, wincing when it made a spike of pain radiate through your skull.

Hands were on your forearms-Robby and Dana. They helped you up on wobbling knees, and with a few more blinks your vision was starting to improve again. But you did not like what you saw.

Jack had the man who had hit you pressed up against the wall with his hands pulled behind his back. Jack was hollering in his ear, threats that if he ever touched his girl again he-

“Jack!” You’d never heard Robby’s voice so loud and thundering before. It was enough to get Jack’s attention, and his eyes landed on you.

“Leave him,” Robby ordered. “I will stay with him until security gets here. She’s bleeding she needs you.”

That was enough to snap Jack out of it. He released the man and stalked over to you without another thought. As he reached for your arm your knees began to give out so instead he swept you up into his arms.

Your senses were all jumbled, sounds and sights and thoughts all messed up and nonlinear. You allowed your eyes to close as you were carried, the rocking motion soothing.

“Hey-don’t close your eyes. Not yet, just keep em open for me sweetheart, okay?”

You hummed in acknowledgment and managed to open them and keep them open as Jack finally set you down in a room. Dana closed the door behind you both, leaving it just the 3 of you. She turned the lights lower, which immediately helped with your head.

“I’m ok I just need-what-I’m all jumbled. What happened?”

“He fucking hit you,” Jack seethed as he roughly put on gloves. “I could kill him.”

You winced at the loud voice, causing him to pause and then slow down.

“I got this Dana, just make sure that…fucker stays put until the cops get here.”

Dana didn’t argue, shooting you a look before pulling the curtain shut and leaving.

“The cops? Jack I’m ok you don’t-”

“Don’t.” His voice was calmer now, and that may have fooled other people but it didn’t fool you. You could hear the restrained anger, see it in his set jaw.

He ran you through the usual work up and concluded you most likely had a concussion, though he insisted you’d be getting a head CT just to be safe. You didn’t argue.

“I still don’t really understand what happened,” you mumbled, rubbing at your eyes. Jack, who’d been carefully wiping the blood away from your busted lip, was quiet for a moment.

He then took his gloves off before taking your hands in his, and it was then you realized that he was shaking. You looked up at him and his eyes were glassy.

“Hey-baby, talk to me.”

“I coulda fucking killed him.”

“But you didn’t-

“I wanted too. If Robby hadn’t stopped me I probably would have pummeled him for touching you.”

“Baby-“

“I won’t apologize for that. I’m supposed to protect you-and I didn’t.”

“You can’t be at my side every second of every day. Things are going to happen.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You shook your head. There was no use arguing with the man when he was all worked up like this.

“I’m sorry I scared you. I hope Robby doesn’t give you too much shit.”

Jack scoffed. “Robby looked like he wanted to sucker punch him too. And I thought Dana was gonna kick him in the dick.”

You laughed and Jack visibly relaxed at the sound.

“You sure you feel ok?”

You nodded, pulling his hands up to your cheeks so he would hold your face.

“I’m sure. Thank you for taking care of me, i love you.”

“I love you too.” He leaned in and allowed himself to give you a few delicate kisses, still worried about your head.

“Now do you think the security cameras caught all of that?” You asked, a bit of playfulness back into your voice. “Cause I would like to see all angles of my hot boyfriend coming to my defense and kicking some ass.”

Jack smirked, helping you stand from the exam table.

“That can definitely be arranged.”

“We’re gonna be the talk of the town now,” you said with a sigh. You’d managed to keep your relationship on the down low for the most part, but that was going to be the case anymore.

“To be fair I would’ve gotten involved regardless of who got hurt.”

“Yeah, but that restraint was a bit much.”

“You liked it just fine the other night.”

You punched Jack’s shoulder while he gave you a cheeky grin.

“Shut up and take me to CT. I’m ready to go home.”

“Aye aye captain.”

[angelltheninth]

Jack Abbot Fucks You in a Medical Closet

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, fucking in a closet, clit stimulation, secret relationship, keeping quiet, praise, kissing, age-gap

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Been in a mood lately where I'm into dilf characters. Who can relate?

This was a bad idea. Such a bad idea. You should have both waited until you got home. But you didn't, you couldn't. Instead you found and empty closet and as soon as the door closed Jack was already pushing his pants down and fishing out his hard cock. It made it so hard for him to walk and it was all your fault for looking at him while licking your lips and pretending like it was hot in the hospital so you had to unbutton a button or two, showing the top of your breasts.

"Think I'm gonna let you get away with teasing me all day, you little brat? You know what you do to me. You know I can't hold back around you." So why should he even try? He held you by the hips, his fingers pressing into warm skin, your back and shoulders against the cold wall, warm, hungry lips on your neck.

Jack thrust his cock in and out of your pussy, not carrying how much noise he made, or you made. And he really should have cared. He was supposed to be the older, more serious one in the relationship.

Not behaving like he was still in his mid.20s but here he was, doing just that. Fucking his pretty, younger girlfriend in the medical supply closet. Reckless. Wild. Lustful.

You hooked one leg around him and pushed him in further, making the normally in control doctor groan in pleasure. "Actually I don't expect you to let me get away with it. But also don't blame me if we get caught."

Jack moved faster, both enticed and scared of getting caught fucking the hot nurse. It was unprofessional on multiple levels.

As he fucked you deeper he moved one hand against your stomach, your front and back revealed to him as your shirt was now fully open. Moving even lower he pressed his thumb against your clit, the wetness making it easy to glide and press against the sensitive spot. He always enjoyed teasing that spot, sometimes under the table during long meetings and see how much you could take before you trapped his hand between your thighs. But what he craved more than anything was the feeling of his cock being squeezed when he flicked your clit.

The more he teased and tortured your clit the harder it became to keep your voice down. You pulled Jack into a kiss, not because of lust, but because you wanted to shut yourself up. He wasn't gonna do it. Jack enjoyed hearing you whimper because of him.

"Come on, my good girl. Stop holding back. We both know we need to finish this quickly. Or would you prefer to get transferred to a different hospital and reprimanded? I wouldn't. I'm fucking addicted to fucking your cunt." He wasn't normally this chatty but he knew that dirty talk and praise got you going when it was from him.

Your pussy fluttered and contracted around his cock, cursing the condom he wore because you wanted to feel his cum flood you. As a nurse you knew the risk of something like that, and yet you couldn't help but frown as you watched him slide out, take the full condom off and tie it before throwing it into the trash.

Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

[riverbends]

https://www.tumblr.com/andrewcodymybeloved/781526766708719616/fuckin-wrong-baz-i-will-have-his-babies

omg ok hear me out…

Imagine overhearing this convo or having pope sadly tell you about it. Imagine having to try to cheer him up and convince him that you would have his children.

Like I would let my man breed me on the spot… but that’s just me

YES. it terrifies him to think that baz might be right—that andrew cody can only harm, never nurture.

he probably wouldn’t tell you about it though. too scared you might agree with baz. you’d have to be eavesdropping nearby and you’d bring it up later in your own home, maybe sitting down somewhere. i reckon the couch, late at night. he’s got some NatGeo documentary on and you watch quietly with him. you’ve got your feet in his lap, your ankles locked under his hands.

maybe you ask him if you can have his baby. you say it like you’re trying to borrow his shirt.

(nsfw-ish stuff below the cut)

he just turns his head and looks at you with that signature frown of his. the question makes his throat go dry so when he says “what?”, you can barely hear him.

“baby or no baby?”

still staring at you, mouth a little parted. he’s utterly perplexed while you wait for him to answer.

“i don’t understand,” he whispers. then blinks. you shrug and lightly nudge a foot into his thigh before his hands tighten over your ankles. he wants to know what the fuck you’re talking about.

“i want a baby,” you say, so simply. “whenever it suits you, of course.”

you watch him breathe. the light from the tv licks at his face. he lets eyes his fall to your childless stomach, and then to the floor. and then his attention is back on the documentary without a word. but you smile to yourself because you know his brain is probably trying to compute the possibility now and he has to figure out if you knew what baz said to him earlier. and how. and why on earth you would want such a thing from himself of all people.

when you’re in bed, he still doesn’t address it. he just summarises something he’s supposed to do with the boys tomorrow. asks you what time you’re finishing work so he can pick you up after collecting lena from school.

in the dark, he rests on his back while you nestle into his side. his heartbeat thumps steadily under your open palm.

“what did you mean?” he murmurs into your hair and you lift your head.

“jesus, you know what i meant,” you laugh.

when he doesn’t say anything, you’re getting up and straddling him. he lets you, of course. he always will. you just have to adjust your clothes before you can take him to the hilt. pleasure swallows him as you ride your way up. his hands are iron on your thighs.

you lean down, rolling your pelvis against his while he’s still inside, and you just tell him to keep going until it takes. he nods like he’s obeying an order. and then he’s got you on your back. he’s going for a home run. he does exactly as he was told and keeps going until he knows it takes.

…….guys you have to put me down like an animal or i fear i will never stop WTF

[writtenbyafan]

I pay attention...

-Pairing: doc!reader/Jack Abbot -Reader pronouns: she/her - Note: no thoughts just shawn hatosy

The ER buzzed around Y/n—alarms blared, footsteps echoed, voices layered over each other like static—but everything felt distant. She’d skipped lunch, maybe even breakfast. The adrenaline was running on fumes. Basic human needs faded into the background when dozens of critical patients flooded the ER.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She blinked, looking up. Jack Abbot stood there, still in scrubs, brow creased beneath messy hair. He always looked a little too put-together for the chaos around him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” Y/n managed a weak smile, leaning a little heavier on the nurse’s station.

Jack stepped closer, eyes scanning her. “Well, you look a little grey, I—woah! Hey! Okay, I got you.”

Her knees buckled, and suddenly she was in his arms, the world tilting before settling again. He eased her down to sit, cradling the back of her head like she was made of glass.

“Easy,” he said, voice low, grounding. “You’ve been running on empty.”

She let her head rest against the wall. “Didn’t think you were paying attention.”

“I pay attention to you,” he said without hesitation, kneeling beside her. His hand brushed her wrist, checking her pulse—clinical, but warm. “Next time, tell someone. Preferably me.”

She gave a tired smile. “Okay. Next time.”

Jack leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Good.”

[abbotsanatomy]

⨳ taking care of each other in the ER

pairing: jack abbot x chief resident!reader warnings: age gap (28 and 49), resident/attending relationship, just fluff. author's note: this is purely inspired by the fact that i need someone to take care of this man.

As ER doctors, no one's really looking to take care of you. Not in the moment, anyway. Sure, they'll send their thanks in letters and buy you coffees and desserts later. But when you're in the midst of a grueling 12-hour night shift and you haven't eaten in nine hours, no one notices. So, you and Abbot learn to.

It's a habit born out of necessity. An attending can't have a starving chief resident, and a sleep-deprived teacher's no good for any student. It all begins long before any ideas of a romantic relationship ever popped into either of your heads.

Jack started it by buying your coffee most nights. He'd gradually come in with two cups of coffee more often than one. He always gets your order just right.

‘The usual’ at his favorite coffee shop becomes your coffee and his. He finds himself requesting it, even if you aren't even going to be at the ER that day. He isn't a wasteful man, but the ritual of holding two cups to work is one he cherishes. It tricks his brain into thinking you'll be there. Sometimes that's exactly what he needs.

On a Thursday in January, you notice the muscles of his shoulders are a little tighter, his walk is more tense. It worries you.

You desperately want to just get in there and rub the tension away with your fingers. You know it'd be wildly inappropriate, though. You try your hardest not to think about the suppressed noises you could pull out of your attending, as you give him the kneading of a lifetime.

It's all so unrealistic, you quickly realize. Instead, you look for the best rated masseur in town. They sound really nice on the phone, and that solidifies your decision. You find him at the hospital counter, with the proposal, an hour later.

“Hey, boss,” you joke.

He barely even looks up. You can tell he's suspicious of your tone already.

“What are you up to?” he asks.

You laugh it off, looking away. You pull your phone out. It’s immediately shoved into his face, because you know the only way you can get yourself to tell him is if you’re met with the possibility of ending this a lot more awkwardly.

Your voice comes out more happy than intended, “I know this great place for a massage.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but there's a tight smile on his lips. You throw the huge pitch you had planned out of the window, and just decide to be direct.

“I just... You've been a little slow on your feet lately. You look like you're in pain half of the time. I wanted to help,” you ramble.

Jack turns away from the computer he was typing on to face you fully. His arms are crossed in front of his chest. He's still smiling at you, nodding his head at every word. You're just trying to give him your best 'please don't fire me' smile.

“You think I'm getting too old? Is that it?” he whispers.

“What?!” you scream, “No! No. Of course not.”

“You're fine. You're great,” you insist, and his shoulders shake as he starts laughing quietly at you.

Your face is stuck in a grimace from the unimaginable embarrassment you’re feeling. When he starts laughing more openly, you find yourself doing the same.

He turns his head to the side, and leans in, “You know you're not my assistant, right?”

You nod quickly, “Of course I know that.”

This is serious. You're not going to let him derail the conversation like he usually does when it gets a little personal.

“Just...let me. Please,” you plead. “I'm trying to repay you for all of those coffees. I'm scared if I don't the universe is going to drop a piano on my head or something. I owe you, like, a lot of money.”

His eyes narrow, and his lips are set in a thin line. After a good minute of just staring at each other, he's called away by a nurse. He sighs and gives you a look that tells you he's giving in. Then, he just starts walking away wordlessly.

“Is that a yes?” you yell after him.

“Sure! Fine, whatever,” he yells back.

You grin victoriously, and confirm your booking on the day you know he isn't working.

The smile you have on your face when he finally comes in a lot more relaxed is much bigger.

Eventually, the massages become a monthly thing. You book him one whenever you notice he's a little more tense, and just text him a screenshot of the booking. He hasn't missed a single one.

Jack Abbot is very good at observing patterns, especially when it comes to his team's work ethic. He sees how you thrive on validation. His, specifically. And the man's more than happy to shower you with praises, if that's what you need.

He tries to tone down how it makes him feel when you get flustered at his compliments, when you're stumbling over your words to quip back every time he jokingly says something like your incision was "more clean than usual."

It gets to a point where it's almost like he's always on the lookout for a way to celebrate you. Always hovering, always prepared to tell you you're doing a good job.

Every single time you're trying something new, he's there. Mostly because he has to guide you through it, but also because he knows that if he's telling you you're doing fine, you'll be confident on your second, third, and fourth time. He tells himself the reason it brings him so much pride when he sees you doing well is because you're his resident. Your skill is reflective of his teaching, after all.

His, his, his. The word replays in his mind every single time.

You, on the other hand, can't exactly tell your attending he's so great all the time. He doesn't need a complex. Besides, you know it isn't what he wants. You focus on expressing your admiration when he isn't doing so good.

When he looks more tired than usual, you stand a little closer. When he reaches his tipping point, you tell him to take a break with a hand to pull him away by his arm. When he loses a patient and it hits him hard, you make sure no one's looking and put a hand on his shoulder to ground him.

The amount of respect and appreciation you have for him is hidden in all of these touches. Every time your skin comes into contact with his, you're pouring all of the things you feel for him into it. Hoping, begging, praying it all reaches him.

Even if it doesn't, you're glad to see him sigh in relief. You're happy, watching his breathing even out, and his eyes flit to yours in gratitude.

There are moments that give you both equal, sweet relief. They happen during those nights when it's quieter in the ER. Everyone's just getting through quick non-emergency emergencies. It makes you feel less guilty when you take a break for some lunch outside.

There's this unspoken pact, that whenever it's one of those nights, you both meet at the same bench. You share your food, you laugh, you talk about your lives outside of work.

It's new, completely undiscovered territory.

Sometimes, you'll let yourself drift off to sleep on his shoulder. It only ever lasts a few minutes, but it's always the best sleep you ever get.

Sometimes, he'll open up about his past. You try not to cry, every time. It's hard. When he tells you about how he lost his leg, you do. He ends up being the one to comfort you with a smile on his face.

Sometimes, you hold hands. It's the most either of you can manage without having to admit how you feel about each other.

One time, he asks to walk you back to your apartment after your shift. When you're at your front door, you beg him to come inside. You make breakfast together. You fall asleep on the couch.

When you wake up, it's time for another shift. For the first time, you're actually glad to be going. Because you know someone's looking out for you, and you have someone to look out for.

[mercvry-glow]

Busy bee was so cute - just picturing Lucas drawing a picture for Mel as a thank you and Jack’s like ‘he really liked you - thanks for taking care of my kid’ It just has Mel beaming looking at the kids drawing

little continuation of busy bee

“He really liked you,” Jack said softly as he stood next to Dr. King while finishing some charting.

Mel looked over to him a bit confused, before realizing Dr. Abbot was talking about his son. “Oh yeah- uh… he was very sweet.” the blonde gave him a meek smile, now thinking of the young boy she had spent time with a few days prior.

Slipping a hand into the pocket of his cargos, Jack pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to the younger woman.

"It's supposed to be a thank you, I think. Lucas drew it for you and told me "I had to give it to Dr. King" so... there. He put a lot of work into it supposedly, no idea how it came out. though" He gave her a flat smile, his way of showing her respect for helping out with the incident that had occurred.

"Thank you for being him," and with that said, the two fell into a comfortable enough silence.

Mel walked away, feeling the urge to open the little piece of paper right away—though not in front of Dr. Abbot.

That felt too personal.

Stepping into the bathroom she took a moment before unfolding the parchment. Inside was a smattering of little colorful doodles, many of which were purple.

Flowers, the sun, a dog, and in the middle a drawing of a woman with a blonde braid and glasses.

It made her smile.

The lines were messy, as expected from a five-year-old, but the details were unmistakable—Lucas had really tried to capture her. The figure had a stethoscope around its neck and was standing beside a smaller stick-figure with curly hair, both of them holding hands. Above them, in all capital letters and some backward ones too, reading

"THANK YOU DR. KING 💜"

Mel’s throat tightened just a little. Not realizing how much the moment in the family room had affected her until now—how quiet and scared he had been, how tightly he held her hand.

And now, this.

She blinked a few times, pressing her lips together to keep the emotions at bay, then carefully refolded the picture and tucked it into the chest pocket of her scrubs.

She splashed a little cold water on her face, gave herself a final once-over in the mirror, and left the restroom with a clearer head.

Out on the floor again, things were picking up—alarms chiming, stretchers rolling past, voices rising in coordinated urgency. It was never still for long in the Pitt. But amid the chaos, Mel caught sight of Dr. Abbot at the end of the hall, already with a new patient, eyes locked in as he gave orders.

He hadn’t looked her way again. He didn’t need to.

She was starting to understand Jack Abbot now—how his gratitude was quiet but honest, how fiercely he cared beneath all that defensive sarcasm and night shift wit.

And somewhere in her pocket, a crayon-sketched thank-you from his son warmed her chest.

your honor I love them all

[princessphilly]

Been working on something

Smut under the cut @gretagerwigsmuse @robbyrobinavitch @lc-birdie @ovaryacted @superhoeva @kmc1989

Sensation deep, hands felt like they were everywhere. You threw your head back as you felt Jack’s lips on your throat, his hands pulling your thighs apart. Fingers stroking the sensitive skin of your upper thighs, each touch making you want more and more.

“So wet for me already, baby,” Jack croons into your ear. “Have you missed me as much as I missed you?”

“Uh-huh,” you manage to reply as his fingers brush your clit before dipping into your slick.

It had been a long month since you had been in Pittsburgh a long time before you could visit him. Even travel conspired against you, as your flight came in four hours late. But it didn’t matter, once you had taken a shower to get rid of the travel stink, Jack had pounced on you, pushing you on his bed.

“I missed your tits, how soft they are. How soft your body is, how you feel wrapped around me…”

Jack’s other hand came up, holding your throat as he kissed you, deep and fierce, full of longing and the deepest need. As his tongue plundered your mouth, you took two of his fingers in your pussy. It felt so good as you gasped into his mouth before moaning.

Pulling away, you gasped for breath as Jack’s mouth moved to suckle one of your nipples. As he licked and sucked, you arched towards his mouth. One of his thighs slid between your legs, the feel of the hard muscle on your clit making you ravenous.

“I’m not going to last long.”

Rocking your hips around his thigh, you managed to murmur, “Don’t care. Got all night.”

Jack looked down on you, an inscrutable look on his face before smirking. Grabbing a condom, he put it on before pushing your legs up towards your shoulders. Entering you slowly, you both hissed at the feel. “So tight, baby,” Jack muttered.

It was overwhelming, feeling Jack ease himself into your cunt, being unable to use your hands making it even hotter for you. Then you heard the buzz and felt your favorite clit-sucking vibrator being held on your clit by Jack. “Gonna make sure you cum for me all night,” he promised as he moved in and out, slowly.

“Cum or squirt,” you were able to tease as you took what Jack gave you. Jack gave you a lopsided smile before increasing the speed.

“You belong to me tonight,” was all he simply said before his lips slid over yours again, your moans turning deep as you got closer and closer to the edge.

[luxu1230]

Headcannon/Drabble

Jack and Robby live in an apartment together at the time just as roommates as it saves on rent and they get to keep an eye on each other so neither do anything stupid. There used to be two beds in the apartment but one broke and since they woke opposite shifts day/night they decide to share as it's not like there gonna be sleeping together except something happens and they have time off together either days off match or it could be a sickness and/or injury.

Que feelings.

Could be either soft or full of angst or sfw or nsfw.

[baezen]

baezen's drabble day

send a prompt from any of these lists: here + here + here

CHARACTERS

THE PITT: jack abbot, michael robinavitch, frank langdon

MARVEL: bucky barnes, matt murdock, frank castle, joaquin torres, robert reynolds

i'm trying to get back into the swing of things and thought this would be fun!

fics will be roughly 500 words (unless i get carried away).

drabble day will be april 26th

[riverbends]

something something pope cody spots broke single mom reader in a grocery store and he can’t help but watch from around the corner of an aisle as you regrettably tell your kid that you can’t afford to get whatever they’re asking for because you’ve already stocked up on necessities that have reached your budget. for pope, the pout on your kid’s face is only secondary to the anguish that’s written all over yours. the urge to aid, to assuage, is a driving force within him - one that he only recognises when he sees you frown in defeat. the way you comb your fingers through your baby’s hair, trying to comfort them, kinda has him feeling weak and gut-punched. is anybody taking care of you? someone has to. he’s already taken note of the prized item that you don’t have enough to pay for and he’s gone before you can even notice he was watching in the first place.

but then you’re in the parking lot with your kid who’s sighing and pouting as you’re loading the groceries into the trunk of your ancient, half-dead sedan when a strange man rocks up next to you with his own bag of groceries. looks like he’s never smiled a day in his life. doesn’t introduce himself, doesn’t really say anything at all, but he’s handing your kid whatever they were begging you for in the store and they beam up at him like he just gifted them the fucking world. you, on the other hand, are a little sceptical because how did he notice? where on earth did he come from? why is he so eerily quiet? you can only resort to smiling at him and, to your surprise (and your delight), the corner of his mouth just barely quirks up. a little crooked. it warms you. “what do you say to the nice man?” you ask your kid, and they promptly drag out a well-rehearsed ‘thaaaank youuu’. the man nods once. and then he’s on his way, disappearing from view. weeks later, you’ve only just recently caught onto the recurring appearance of a bulky black pickup with tinted windows parked opposite your neighbour’s house. hm. that’s odd.

(update: i decided to continue this here)

[spaceyaemonds]

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: you have a one night stand with an extremely attractive older man, but it doesn’t seem like you’ll see him again. fate has other plans, it seems.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23) unexpected pregnancy, light smut, reader and jack have both been drinking but are very eager/consent is definitely there. MDNI

notes: i am still working on former stripper!reader, but this came to me and i had to get it out. i think this will be a series of smaller drabbles, instead of a full one shot, but idk, what do you guys think/prefer? unedited. any feedback is extremely appreciated, especially reblogs/asks!

wc: 1.3k

next

You meet Jack Abbot in a dark bar on a Thursday. You, drug out by your friends, begging you to just let loose for once. Him, alone, on his last night off for the week, mentally preparing to go back to work the next day.

You caught his eye from across the room, and feeling brave, and of course egged on by your friends, you make your way over to him.

The first thing he does is ask you how old you are, to which you give a cheeky response of old enough. At the unamused look you receive, you tell him you’re twenty-three.

Jack nearly choked on his drink at that, and nearly tells you that you’re too young for him. But the pretty and cheeky smile you give him makes a small smirk appear on his face, so he doesn’t.

The second thing he does is order you a sweet fruity drink and a double shot of whiskey for himself.

One round turns into two which turns into three. You laugh a lot, and he laughs at your laugh. Jack tells you briefly about his time in the army, and in turn you tell him about your evil boss that you just know is out to get you.

I’m an ED doctor, he mumbles in your ear after you ask what he does for work

An eating disorder doctor? He snorts at your question.

“No, emergency department, like an ER,” You blush as he laughs at you, nearly choking as he downs the rest of his whiskey in one go.

You don’t even realize that you had effectively abandoned your friends and had been talking to Jack the entire night until one of them comes to ask if you’re ready to go.

You look at Jack, sheepish smile on your face and a glint in your eyes.

You end up at his place, his mouth on yours and calloused hands pawing greedily at your tits under your shirt before he even gets the door closed.

“Your skin is so soft,” He mumbles as he leaves open mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to your neck and back up again.

You moan, “I like the way your hands feel on my skin,”

Your hands tangle in his hair as you force his mouth back on yours, teeth clashing as his tongue fights yours for dominance, ultimately winning when you distract yourself trying to get his shirt off of him.

As quickly as his shirt comes off, he has you topless, your shirt and bra tossed somewhere in his living room.

The rest of the night is a blur, but you know he fucked you in some way, shape, or form on nearly every surface of his home, from eating you out on the couch, to fingering you until you managed to squirt all over his countertops as he made you drink water to stay hydrated, to fucking you dumb on his cock in at least six different positions on his bed, and once more pressed against the shower wall before putting his shirt on you and holding your body pressed up against his body while you slept the entire night.

The next morning the two of you chatted over breakfast. No awkwardness, he goes out of his way to make you laugh over his disgusting coffee, as so affectionately deemed it.

He doesn’t ask for your number, so you don’t ask for his. You kiss the side of his mouth as you leave him.

Jack goes to work, business as usual, but he thinks about you every day for the next eight weeks. Wondering if your boss ever let up on you or if you tried that new Italian place you were wanting to eat at.

You spend the next eight weeks stressed beyond belief. Work eating at your soul and consuming your entire life. You do think about Jack almost every day, contemplating going back to that bar just to see if he’s there.

But you don’t ever get the time, and your next meeting is an unexpected one to say the least.

Slipping on the wet floor in a grocery store was embarrassing, but hitting your head on the way down was mortifying. You were going to have to find a new grocery store.

The situation just keeps getting worse as the paramedics show up, telling you they have to take you to the emergency room since you show signs of a concussion and your nose is bleeding.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Mohan. I hear you took a bit of a fall?” The doctor is pretty, and her smile seems genuine as she talks to you.

“Uh, you could say that. This all could’ve been avoided if they had a wet floor sign out at the grocery store, though,”

She laughs, “You would be surprised how often we see that here,”

She starts going through the usual string of questions you get at the ED. You answer them all until she gets to the last one, “And when was the date of your last period?”

All of a sudden, your mind is blank. Surely you’ve had it, right? You had to have.

“I-I guess I don’t remember,” It comes out a whisper, and your brow is furrowed as you try and try to remember. You know you had it.

Dr. Mohan senses your inner turmoil, “No worries, we can do a blood test,”

She takes your blood and tells you she’s going to go order a CT for your head, “just sit tight.” With a mind smile, she’s gone.

You sit there, trying to rack your brain. There is no way you’re pregnant. No fucking way.

It takes what feels like an hour for Dr. Mohan to come back, ultrasound machine in tow, “So, I have your test results, and it does appear that you are pregnant. We’ll have to do an ultrasound to confirm how far along you are, but after that we should be able to get you to CT,”

“What the fuck.” Is all you can manage, eyes wide as you look at her, “Are you, like, certain?”

She places a hand on your own, squeezing in a comforting manner, “The ultrasound will be to confirm, but blood tests are rarely wrong,”

She gets you situated and pulls the gown up so she can rub the probe over your abdomen, “I am hopeful we won’t have to do this vaginally,”

She quickly places the cold jelly on your abdomen and runs the probe over it, trying to find a fucking baby. You feel like you might throw up.

“And there they are,” There’s a smile on her face and she shows you.

“Oh my god,” You think you’re in shock “I think I’m gonna throw up,”

“Oh!” She quickly steps into action, grabbing a bucket and rubbing your back while you vomit.

“I think this is the worst day of my life,” She gives your shoulder a squeeze.

“The vomiting could be due to the fall you took,” She bites her lip, “CT is pretty backed up, let me go get my attending to see if he can take a look and find something that can get you moved up the list. I’ll be right back,”

She quickly walks out, and you feel tears building quickly in your eyes. How the fuck could you let this happen?

And now, you’ll have to awkwardly face Jack and tell him your passionate night has resulted in this situation.

He didn’t even ask for your number for crying out loud.

Your downward spiral is interrupted when Dr. Mohan returns, with the last person you wanted to see right now.

“This is my attending, Dr. Abbot.” She gestures to him. “Dr. Abbot, I have a twenty-three year old female, approximately eight weeks pregnant with a possible concussion,”

You don’t hear another word that passes her lips, eyes glued to him, and he looks just as shocked and horrified as you feel.

[silens-oro]

Senior Citizen Behavior

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!Reader Domestic fluff/Established Relationship

The Pitt Playlist located here

Synopsis: For the first time in a very long time, it isn't Robby who's coming home late after his shift. Word Count: 1,421 Content Warning: Age gap; No age specified, but I typically write readers with Robby or Abbot as 30+ in my mind. Tooth-rotting fluff. A/N: lmao this was supposed to be a drabble and ended up being a one-shot because I can't help myself when presented with an old man on a silver platter, so there's that.

please comment & reblog :)

It was just before 10pm when you quietly let yourself into the apartment you shared with Robby -a whole two and a half hours later than you were supposed to leave the office, but the end of the quarter was quickly approaching and extra hours were required to be put in by your entire team. 

Gotta think of the shareholders, you thought bitterly to yourself as you shook the snow off of your head and toed your boots off at the door. Your bag and coat found their homes on the wall hooks in the entryway next to Robby’s jacket and bag, and you tiptoed down the hall to the soft glow coming from the living room.  

Robby was an absolute sight when you caught a glimpse of him on the sofa. Mindful to step around the known creaky floorboards, you rounded the sofa to see what the damage was. He texted you earlier in the day that the first couple of hours of his shift were an absolute doozy, and when he called you on his way home he yapped about a fist fight that broke out between two patients who were there because of a fight that landed them in the ED to begin with. 

"Round Two in the Emergency Department," he had said, still beside himself when the department turned into the set of Jerry Springer. 

“Sounds like an episode title of It’s Always Sunny,” you joked into your desk phone as you typed into the blurring Smartsheet on your monitor that you had been working away on for the last three hours straight. You let him know that it was going to be a late night for you and to not wait up. He needed his beauty sleep.

It was a nightmare Robby was all too happy to leave in the hands of Dr. Jack Abbot and his (loving) freakshow of a night shift -they were more than equipped to handle it and Robby couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

All Robby wanted to do by the time he stepped out of those automatic doors and into the fresh air was get home, take a hot shower, eat a good meal, and wrap himself around you like a boa constrictor -and maybe put a movie on so he could fall asleep before the opening credits finished. It wasn’t too much to ask for, and yet Robby found he had the apartment all to himself because you (in an absolute rarity) ended up as the one who had to work late this time around, so he made due with what he had. 

He took his shower and made a quick meal for the both of you before getting comfortable on the sofa with a book he started on his last day off. He got maybe three pages in, blinked once, and the next thing Robby knew, he was out. If you were there, he would’ve told you that he was just resting his eyes for a moment and he was definitely not asleep. No, he wasn’t snoring. All allegations were denied in this situation (that happened many times before), but you'd always give him a knowing smile with a sarcastic ‘sure' thrown his way. 

Senior citizen behavior, you had joked once and he nearly smothered you with the weight of his body as he draped himself on top of you until you apologized through a fit of laughter.  

Robby was sitting mostly upright on the sofa, leaning on a few throw pillows that propped his elbow up on the arm rest. He was in his comfy cardigan (the one he only wore at home after he had taken a shower) with his round readers hanging precariously on the tip of his nose and his latest book smashed flat against his chest. His feet, wearing coziest winter socks because the man was never barefoot in the house, were crossed ankle over ankle on the coffee table making his impossibly long legs appear to be even longer than they already were. 

Robby’s head was tilted back just enough to make his mouth open the tiniest bit, allowing soft snores (that he would deny til he was blue in the face) to escape while he rested -blissfully unaware of his audience, and you couldn’t stop the breathy laugh that escaped you even if you tried. 

“Oh, you are never beating the senior citizen allegations now, Robby.” You teased in a whisper as you carefully removed the readers that were dangerously close to falling off the tip of his nose. You folded the arms carefully and set them on the side table next to the base of the lone lamp that illuminated the room, before gently prying the book from his (more than likely cramped) hand. The book itself was flat on his chest, pages splayed open on the last page he read -or attempted to, anyway. Not seeing a bookmark anywhere, you dog-eared the page and set it next to his glasses with care. 

Robby grumbled incoherently when your palm came to rest on his bearded cheek. The dark circles that were starting to reappear under his eyes made your lips tilt down for a fraction of a second, knowing he was exhausted. Not just physically, but mentally as well. Between what happened with Pittfest just four months ago, and Frank’s situation that Robby blamed himself for (not for Frank using, but for Robby not seeing it until a first day intern pointed it out to him), and the goddamn Patient Satisfaction Scores he was constantly drilled about like the ED was a Primanti Bros. franchise -on top of whatever other bullshit Gloria threw at him, he needed to take some time to himself so he could disconnect -if only for a few days. The problem was that Robby wasn’t the type to disconnect. He felt an obligation because if not him, then who?

It hurt your heart to think of the weight Robby carried day in and day out, like he was Atlas carrying the sky on his shoulders, not because he needed to be punished, but because he needed to be useful and this was the only way he knew how to be. Robby was a great man with an enormous heart who constantly gave himself away at the expense of never getting those pieces back. And while you tried to replace what you could, for every piece you returned, two more were taken away in its place. The toll it took on him was getting more and more noticeable by the day, but still he trudged on. It’s who Robby was, and would always be. 

Waking him up when you knew he needed the rest was the last thing you wanted to do, but you knew if you left him on that couch he was liable to wake up with something out of alignment and that was the absolute last thing he needed. 

You leaned down and kissed his forehead tenderly, then down to his nose, and finally landed on his ever so slightly parted lips (that he was 100% not snoring through). Robby’s eyes started to flutter and a sleepy grin tilted his lips up when he cracked them open and saw you standing over him. 

“Hi, sleepyhead.” You whispered, “I told you that you didn’t have to wait up for me. Your back is going to be screamin' at you.”

“Clearly I didn’t wait up,” He joked, groaning at how stiff he felt from sleeping in the position he was in. He yawned as he stretched his arms up, pulling his t-shirt up to reveal just the slightest sliver of his happy trail low on his stomach, and gently grabbed your hand to pull you down to the sofa so you could snuggle into his side.

Robby drowsily kissed the side of your head as you wrapped your arms around his middle, letting one of your hands slip underneath his soft cotton t-shirt to rub at his ribs affectionately. It didn’t take you very long into your relationship with Robby to figure out that skin to skin contact, specifically in a non-sexual setting, was something he craved. It was comforting and intimate in a way that grounded him and so it became a ritual whenever the two of you had brief moments together that you were more than happy to oblige in. It was never explicitly stated between you, he never asked for it, but you just knew and he loved you for it. “There’s a plate in the microwave for you. Figured you’d be starving when you got home.” His words were muffled because he still hadn't moved. You gently tilted your head up to look at him.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” He chuckled, rolling his eyes. The crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes were pronounced and you couldn’t help but admire how handsome he was -especially when he was smiling. “Because I do. You’re the best.” You smiled up at him, giving him a loving peck. Robby let the kids linger, cupping your jaw to keep you close to him. 

“I try.” He breathed against you, dodging the attention by pressing his forehead to yours. He found comfort in the lingering smell of your shampoo and the warmth that radiated off of you. 

“You do more than try, Robby, and I will always appreciate that.” Again, you kissed him tenderly, your hand coming up to gently scratch at his beard. He gave you the stink eye when you laughed at the tiny groan he let out when you did it.

"I know you do, even if you are a pain in my ass. I love you all the more for it."

please comment & reblog :)

[abbotsanatomy]

I can’t stop thinking about the fluffy alphabet you did for Jack where his nightmare is you coming into his ER. I’d love if you could expand upon that please and thank you.

⨳ JUST A WALK-IN

pairing: jack abbot x wife!reader warnings: depiction of ectopic pregnancy, mentions of surgery/medical procedures. author's note: i think it'd definitely feel that much worse if he caused your visit to the ER (even if indirectly). so here's this..

It takes a lot for you to visit the ER. Lightheadedness, pain in the most random places, and three days of excruciating pain later, you've finally succumbed to the fact that this is, indeed, an emergency.

In truth, you're more worried about your husband than yourself. Jack's what the people call completely overbearing, when it comes to your health. If you could be a hypochondriac for someone, he's that. He tries to downplay it, but you know he's panicking inside every time you get a cold that lasts a little too long or tell him about that pain in your side.

That's why it's incredibly detrimental that your husband not see you in his ER. You're going to tip-toe around, asking for anyone who isn't him and hoping the nurses won't slip up and tell him they saw you around. You feel safe, for now, behind this curtain.

You managed to snag Parker Ellis on your way in. She's one of your favorites, and you know she can keep her mouth shut with Jack.

“Y'know if Abbot finds out, I'll tell him you totally threatened me, right?” she deadpans, pulling her gloves on.

She's sat on a stool beside your hospital bed. You shoot her a pouty look that you hope could soften her up. It doesn't.

“Come on! I only threatened you a little,” you yell, “Have my back. It can't be that serious. Probably just appendicitis or something.”

“You waited three days before coming in,” she berates you. “If it is appendicitis, you should be worried.”

You sigh loudly, and move to lie farther back onto the hospital bed. Ellis brings the cart with the ultrasound kit closer to herself.

“Whatever,” you whisper, pulling your shirt up to reveal your torso.

Ellis puts some ultrasound gel there. You close your eyes at the sensation. It feels too cold, especially with the preexisting pain.

She puts the transducer on your lower abdomen and moves it around, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her. You assume she's found something when her hand freezes and just stares at the screen for a minute.

“What is it?” you question, softly. You're a little scared now; you've never seen Ellis look so serious.

When the silence becomes too intense, you start turning the diamond ring on your fourth finger around. You know whatever Parker's about to tell you, it isn't good.

“Should Jack be here for this?” you suggest, unable to pull your eyes from the sparkling rock on your hand.

Ellis finally pulls her eyes away from the screen, “Yeah. Maybe.”

You nod, slowly letting your eyes flutter shut.

“Okay. Can you tell him? To come in here?” you finally look up at her, “I want him here.”

She leaves without another word. You put your head into your hands, breathing deeply. You think you're getting a moment of peace, and then the pain that's been following you around for days, maybe even weeks, it doubles.

Then, it triples.

You know this can't be a good sign. You make for the call button quickly. You're inches away, when you feel your consciousness slip away. Your vision goes black before you can do anything.

Ellis is making her way through the ER at record speed. When she finds Jack, she's even more frustrated than before.

He's operating. She can't interrupt. She isn't even sure how she was going to tell him in the first place, let alone in a room full of people, with someone's life in his hands.

Ellis is more than aware of just how much Jack loves you. She was at the wedding. She sat front row, listened intently to all of your vows. She hears how he talks to you on the phone, his voice completely morphing into something a lot softer. She notices how you’re on speed dial every time a major incident happens, because he always needs to make sure you’re okay.

She knows he'll freak out when he hears.

These things usually aren't that dangerous, but you've left it for too long. She isn't even sure if you'll make it into surgery before it gets bad. This thing's ready to rupture, and Jack should definitely be there for you if it does.

Fuck it, she decides. She walks into trauma room one with a newfound sense of determination. Ellis grabs a mask off of the tray at the door, and walks in, holding it to her face.

“Hey, Abbot?”

Jack only spares her a glance.

“Kind of busy here,” he tells her, his hands literally inside of the patient in front of him.

“You know I wouldn't do this if it wasn't important,” her voice comes off as frantic.

So much so, that it makes him look up. His eyes immediately become set into a deep frown. He quickly tells Walsh to take over, pulling his hands away. They're both out of the trauma room in seconds.

“Is it...” Jack pauses.

“Yeah, yeah. It's your wife. She's here. She came in for an emergency,” she explains.

“You didn't tell me?”

“She's freakin' scary, alright? Just—I'll tell you what it is there.” Ellis just walks away without a second glance. Jack's following, his footsteps heavy.

When they get to the hospital cubicle you were in, Ellis pushes the curtain back quickly to reveal...nothing.

“Where is she, Ellis?”

“I left her right here. Wait...” Ellis walks to the nurse's station to ask about your whereabouts. They give her the worst case scenario.

As soon as Jack hears the news, he's sprinting to the elevator to make his way to the surgical floor. You're having surgery, and he isn't there. You're having life-altering surgery, which he might've caused, and he isn't there.

His heart’s pounding so hard in his chest he think he might be having a heart attack. This is worse. It’s scarier. He isn’t scared of dying, he’s scared of losing the one thing that’s keeping him going. And the idea that he’s the one who put you in this situation makes him more uneasy.

He can't help but feel guilty, especially when they hand him your wedding ring and the band T-shirt and jeans you presumably had on, and tell him to just wait in the room you'll be admitted in.

He just stares at the glittering diamond in his hands for what feels like hours, until they wheel you in. Then, he puts it back on your ring finger and stares some more.

When you wake up, it's like being reborn. It's completely stressful, you feel like you’re learning how to breathe all over again, and you want to burst out crying. But Jack's right there, with your hand in his.

It makes you smile. Your face still feels heavy, but you manage to show a little teeth. You turn your head to the side, and he's still looking down at your interlocked fingers. He finally looks up when you squeeze his hand as tight as you can.

He can't say anything, so you do.

“I'm, like, so fucking hungry,” you whisper, and then start laughing.

Jack stands up from his seat at your bedside, leaning in. He pulls your head up with a hand buried into your hair. His lips are pressed onto your forehead and, if it's even possible, you're smiling wider.

“That was scary,” you admit.

He nods, his forehead resting against yours now. Your brows crease.

“What, uh...What happened?”

Jack shakes his head, “It was an ectopic pregnancy. Ruptured. I thought—”

He closes his eyes tight, “I thought I'd lose you.”

“You didn't.” You bring a hand up, so your fingers can brush against his jaw.

Jack takes a deep breath, but you can tell it's a little off. “I...I sit up, late at night, thinking about this. You dying, here, in this hospital. Me not knowing about it.”

You shake your head adamantly, pulling his face back so you can really look into his eyes. It takes you a good minute to form a whole sentence.

“I didn't die. I'm right here. It wasn't even close, I swear,” you promise him, offering the best smile you can in this moment.

You plant a firm kiss on his lips to punctuate your point. You let your fingers play around in the salt and pepper strands of his hair.

“But, seriously,” you sigh, “I'm totally starving. How do we get someone to bring me something to eat?”

You look around for a minute, until he starts laughing. It's more of a cathartic coping mechanism than a genuine laugh. You giggle along with him anyway.