#jack abbott x f!reader

[millers-girl]

bitter/sweet

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

pairing: Jack Abbot x f!reader

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

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

word count: 5.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned. “Abbot? Where’s Robby?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Mandoline slicer,” you corrected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stitches,” he decided.

“Fuck that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want you to do it.” 

“No.” 

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” 

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

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

“Yes, sir?” 

“Go get me the lidocaine.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A week off work. 

You already knew you weren’t waiting that long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s the best and you know it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still hurts?” he asked, quieter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t brood,” he called after you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He narrowed his eyes on you. “Broody.”

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

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

“I’m dropping some food off.”

His brows furrowed now. “For me?”

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

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

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

“Try some.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That brought a pink tinge to his cheeks. 

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

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

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

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

“Admit it. You’re rooting for me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It didn’t help.

“Did he do an ECG?”  

“Yes.” 

“Echocardiogram?” 

“Yes, Jack,” she sighed.

“What about a head CT?

You frowned. “Why would he do a CT?” 

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

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

“How do you know?” 

“Because Eleni caught me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your sister nodded.

“What about electrolytes? She’s dehydrated.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I go home now?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he kissed you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No scrubs,” you teased.

“Button-up?”

“Only if it’s black. Very broody.” 

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

.

.

.

read part 2 here !!

[storiesaplenty]

The Pitt Masterlist

Imagine you're in a relationship with Dr. Jack Abbott, but no one at the hospital knows because you believe in keeping your work-life and personal-life separate

Until one day you're attacked during your shift at the Pitt by a patient.

One punch to the face had you flying backwards, and your head bouncing off the desk behind you.

You are quickly taken for tests to make sure you're okay.

While that was happening, Jack comes in for his night shift, and hears what happened to you.

He instantly corners Dr Robby about what happend, who tells him what he knows.

"Where is she?" Jack asks him.

"We will find out about her shortly." Dr Robby told him.

"Tell me where she is Michael."

Dr Robby looked at Jack, until it finally dawned on him, and told Jack where you are.

Jack raced towards the elevator, pounding on the up button.

The elevator doors open, and there you are, suprised to see your boyfriend standing there.

"Dr Abbott, you are here early." You barely got out before Jack pulled you into his arms, muttering how he heard what happened.

He pulled back, and gently cupped your face in his hands, looking you over.

You touched his face to calm him down, because you knew he was upset.

"Jack, I'm fine."

It was like he forgot for a moment where the two of you were, as he kissed you.

You couldn't help but smile into the kiss, enjoying this moment between the two of you.

That was until someone cleared their throat, bringing you two back to reality.

"I see you are okay. If you wish to leave early you can, or finish your shift." Dr Robby said to you.

"I’ll finish. I'll see you later Jack." No reason to hide it any longer as everyone saw the two of you kiss.

You walked away, not before hearing Michael say to Jack, "I better be invited to the wedding."

And Jack telling Michael to shut up.

[ay0nha]

DO I NEED TO WRITE SOMETHING FOR THE PITT?

SEND REQUESTS

(mainly obsessing over Dr. Robby and Dr. Abbott, but open to anyone! Mel is my angel. The angstier the better)

[asxgard]

Abbot(t) x reader idea where instead of Dana, it’s the reader that Javadi confides in after her awkward Matteo ask-out and after the reader gives her props for going for it and explains that she’s had a secret crush on Abbott for forever, Myrna (who sees and hears all) either 1) pipes up and tells her she’s seen Abbott checking her out or 2) stays quiet and tells Jack about it later. Or both haha. I just feel like Myrna is like 4th in terms of who knows the most about the ED gossip (after Perla, Princess, and Dana) lol.

These Walls Have Eyes | one shot

Dr. Jack Abbot x f!nurse!reader

Requested

Summary: Rumors always start somewhere — and the one about you and a certain attending started somewhere between a whispered confession and Myrna overhearing you.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: Myrna sees and hears all, I agree with you lol I hope you like it!

Word Count: 1.1k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content.

Warnings: foul language, age gap (if you squint), Myrna being Myrna, references to Pittfest, pining, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, alcohol

not beta read

“He’s like a human Utah.” Javadi told you, eyes wide and breathless.

You ushered her down the hall, smirking, “I know a thing or two about a Utah.”

She looked over at you and your cheeks warmed at the thought of Dr. Abbot. You typically worked nights with him, and it took forever to stop flustering whenever you were in his company. You thought you had finally gotten it all under control, but like Javadi, your Utah had a habit of making you feel like you weren’t getting enough air when your eyes met.

“I wish I had some advice, but frankly, mine still makes me feel like that. Even after all this time.” You smiled at her and patted her arm.

“Does he work here?” She asked, before quickly adding, “Or she?”

“He’s the chief attending the night shift,” you told her. “I don’t think you’ve met him yet. Dr. Abbot.”

She stared at you, blinking, “You’ve never said anything?”

You waved it off awkwardly, “Never felt like the right time.”

“Oh.”

“But your Utah?” You glanced over your shoulder to peek at Mateo through the window. “You shouldn’t wait too long like I did.”

“Oh, no, no. I don’t think—”

Your laugh was light, “No rush, kid. I’m just saying you shouldn’t let it pass you by. Life’s too short.”

Javadi looked at you like she wanted to say something, but decided against it, before being pulled away by McKay. You let out a long sigh that made Dana steal a glance at you, raising a brow. You smiled at her to assure her you were fine, but your stomach felt tight.

“You know, that handsome doctor eyes you up any time you ain’t lookin’.”

You jumped, startled. You turned to see Myrna behind you, smiling devilishly.

“What even are you talking about?” You asked, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

She raised her eyebrows and wheeled closer to you, “I’m saying, sweetcheeks, that it’s not one sided.”

You had the urge to roll your eyes, mostly at the nickname, but also at any of it being truthful. Jack never gave any indication that he was emotionally available, let alone interested.

“Alright, Myrna, let’s get you—”

“I’m tellin’ you! Dr. Abbot totally—”

You were grateful that Perlah swooped in to help you, wheeling her away, sending a knowing smirk in your direction. You gave her a playful scowl — if anyone knew anything around the Pitt, it was Princess and Perlah. Though, you supposed you could add Myrna to the list now since she had clearly been able to be a fly on the wall enough to gain all that information.

Mind spinning with possibilities, you tried to busy your hands, throwing yourself back in the work.

—

Jack arrived to the Pitt right after he had heard it over the scanner, never one to wait. After a quick debrief, he set to work.

“Hello, Dr. Abbot.”

He didn’t need to look to know who it was, though he sent her a side glance while he prepped some suture trays. He looked around to find a nurse, hoping they would take Myrna upstairs quickly — though in all the chaos of moving patients upstairs, she clearly had slipped through.

“I overheard something today…” she trailed off, a smirk hinting at her lips. “About a certain nurse having a crush on a certain attending.”

That caught his attention, though he only spared her a look with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m quaking in anticipation.” He said dryly.

Her shoulders shrugged, “Thought you might be interested, you know, you do check her out every chance you get.”

He ignored the way heat invaded his chest, suddenly aware of the nurse in question. You. You who had been plaguing his mind since you started. You who always offered him a smile. You who matched his dry quips and cutting sarcasm with ease. You who offered easy banter over bad break room coffee. You who stood in his silences like it was something interesting.

Myrna grinned at him, “She was talking about you.”

His heart seized, but his training pushed it aside. No time to get soft when a mass casualty was about to burst through the doors.

—

The end of shift came slowly, but blurred together by the carnage and chaos. After working 15 hours, you felt heavy. Your bones ached and you felt painfully dehydrated. In the aftermath, however, your mind caught up with you and you remembered Myrna’s words. They echoed in the back of your head, playing on repeat.

Mateo offered for you to come to share a beer outside before heading home. Your eyes flickered between him and Javadi, and you grinned, accepting.

Javadi gave you a bashful look that quickly grew excited when she spotted someone behind you.

“Remember Utah? Might not be too late.” Javadi said, subtly gesturing behind you with her chin.

You turned and spotted Dr. Abbot. Your heart started racing and you swallowed thickly. When you looked back at Mateo and Javadi, they both were grinning at you like fools. Leave it to the rumor mill to spread your crush like wildfire.

Outside, Donnie passed you a beer and while it did not seem like your best decision, you opened it and took a sip. Laughing with your co-workers made your shoulders feel lighter, but everyone slowly began to depart until it was only you and Jack left.

You took Robby’s seat on the bench with him once he got up to leave. Your heart thrummed in the silence, beginning to overthink Myrna’s words. You could not get yourself to move, however, stuck to the bench, enjoying the company of the man beside you.

“I learned something interesting today.” Jack said into the quiet, fiddling with his beer like he was anxious.

You turned to look at him, appreciating the way the shadows highlighted your favorite features. His cheekbones and the stubble, half his face hidden in darkness, his hazel eyes appearing almost black.

Might not be too late, echoed in your mind.

“Not to come in on your day off?” You offered lightly.

He leaned forward just enough for the light from the streetlamp to illuminate him, and the smile you caught made the air get trapped somewhere in your lungs.

Exhaling a breath, he shook his head and looked over at you. “Something about a work crush.”

“Oh, yeah, she said something to me earlier.” Trying to hide the smile while anxiety invaded, you failed. “Something something an attending has been checking me out.”

“She must have eyes everywhere.”

“Yeah.” You agreed, unsure where to take the conversation. He didn’t deny it.

It was edging close to something dangerous, something where there was no turning back.

But maybe you didn’t want to risk it falling back to the status quo.

“Would you like to get dinner sometime?” You asked after a beat.

He answered immediately, “Yeah, I would.”

Dr. Abbot taglist: @flyinglama @valhallavalkyrie9 @melancholyy-hill @travelingmypassion @yournerdmodziata @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse @woodxtock @rachel2494

The Pitt taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver @loud-mouph @ksyn-faith @sunfairyy @dragonsondragons @mischiefsemimanaged @pastelbunnelby @jetjuliette @that-one-fangirl69

All content taglist: @nixandtonic

[highdramas]

okay hear me out… a jack abbott inspired by imgonnagetyouback… the angst? the lust? i fear you would eat this up

never not mine | dr. jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!resident!reader warnings: language, angst with a happy ending, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), reader slaps a man hehe (not jack), power imbalance (reader is a resident and jack is her attending), drug use (weed), sexual content (brief but there), jack absolutely grovels and it's a vibe word count: 3.2k summary: jack attempts to walk away. you attempt to reel him back in. it leaves you both raw and vulnerable. notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. imgonnagetyouback, back to me by the marias, and honeymoon by lana all helped inspire this fic! i'm a little worried i wrote jack ooc, but then i remembered that man is a canonized yapper. this exists within the ring of fire universe, but that does not have to be read first. it is linked here if you would like to, though! i took some liberties with this so i apologize if it's not exactly how you imagined it! but i had a great time writing this! i hope you enjoy it <3 not proofread, apologies for errors!

you know exactly what it is that you’re doing. and if jack feels tortured– fine. let him. this is all his fault, anyway.

the whole time you’d been with him, whatever that even meant, you’ve felt this sense of… waiting for the other shoe to drop. you tried to tell yourself that you were crazy, that jack was good and honest and that he wasn’t going to get cold feet. that the fact that you were his resident and he was your attending didn’t bother him. that he wasn’t irrevocably haunted by demons from his past, a dead wife and an endless war that runs on a replay in his head, pain in a limb that he doesn’t even have anymore.

it’s not that you expect him to forget all of that. you just want him to be real with you.

and when he falls right into the trope, the trap that was laid by fate, you decide that you’re not going to be resentful. you’re just going to prove to him– and maybe yourself– that you’re not so easily forgotten. that you can’t be left.

it sounds both arrogant and pathetic when you think about it like that. but you don’t care. you’re going to get him back.

maybe it is cruel that you started flirting with donnie in front of him. maybe it’s evil, the way that when you all gather for your post-shift beer, it’s donnie’s bench that you settle at. when you meet abbot’s gaze from across the walkway, his eyes are always at a level of stony that make you a little bit nervous. but then you remember that he iced you out and you lift your chin up and turn your face back to donnie.

he’ll pick his poison, you decide.

when you enter lefty’s at 11pm after getting wind that the day shift– which was jack, conveniently, since he uttered the words this is a bad idea, kid. god, you want to shake his shoulders, you want to call him a coward and scream from the top of your lungs: do you need see how good it could be if you let it?

a delicate lilac top clings to your skin. you push your hair over your shoulder as santos crosses the bar to greet you with a big hug, laughter on her lips. “jesus christ, who are you trying to give a heart attack?”

your hand splays on her back and you find abbot looking at you from across the bar. you shrug your shoulders and pull back, pushing back pieces of santos’s hair. “i don’t know. maybe someone new?”

trinity’s eyebrows shoot up. “wow. spicy. i like it.”

you don’t know how much time passes. you feel a bit silly: overdressed, a beer in your hand, nothing on your mind except the man that you want to lure back in to you. your outfit is a siren song and all you can wonder is if abbot is a sailor who is as desperate as you’ve pinned him as.

if he’s as desperate as you are.

every time you look at him, he’s either already looking, or feels your gaze on him. there will be a beat of eye contact before you look away and laugh at something garcia said or engage, rapt, in a conversation with samira about the first date that she went on last week. suddenly, it’s been hours, and you’re closing out your tab when you feel a presence beside you.

it’s not the presence that you want. it’s one that’s unknown and makes you feel uncertain. it’s not abbot’s easy, calm, present demeanor beside you. the one that tells you don’t worry, i’m here, i got this. the one that washes over you like a delicious wave. the one that smells woody and warm and delicious. the man next to you is a little too clean cut, a little too polished–  he smells like laundry and looks like he’s never been through a bad thing in his life.

he takes a drink of the last of his beer. “i’ve been watching you all night.”

you didn’t notice. faintly, you think that if you were twenty three, this man next to you would have been the apple of your eye, instantly. you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off of him. but when you look at him and you see deep dimples and dark hair, all you see are dimples that are a little too deep, and hair that isn’t streaked with silver.

that pick up line strikes you as unimpressive. your finger tip circles your glass. “oh, am i supposed to say thank you?” you ask, but you manage what you try to play off as a coy smirk. absentmindedly, you look around, instinctively looking for jack. and not even because you want to see if he’s jealous. not because you want to see the look on his face, to feel that sick sense of satisfaction at the fact that you’re getting to him.

no. you want your friend. you want to give a bleak eye roll and make him smirk. you want to go back to him and say what a prick and carry on with your life. you want to go back to the normal that you’ve gotten used to– the one that, maybe, you took for granted.

if you can’t have jack as your whatever he was, you’d take him as your friend. any day.

but when your eyes scan the bar… he’s not there. the spot that he occupied next to robby is vacant. and all you’re left with is this sick sense of shame, embarrassment, and something else that you can’t quite articulate. longing, if someone put a gun to your head and forced you to put a name to it.

the man next to you says something. you don’t hear it. static rattles in your ears and suddenly all you want to do is go home, tear those lilac clothes off, wash your face, and cry. in bed.

and maybe smoke a joint on your patio, too.

he says something again. you, once again, don’t respond. you look at the bartender and answer their questions with one word answers. yes, you want to close. no, you don’t want a copy of your receipt.

“are you ignoring me, or are you just a stupid fucking bitch who can’t hear?”

at the level of shut down you’re at already, you don’t even care what he’s said. but he’s gotten the attention of the others. robby is already on his feet.

and abbot is walking down the hall from the restroom.

“i’m ignoring you,” you turn to him, spitting the words out, loud and clear. “but if calling me a stupid fucking bitch makes the rejection hurt less, knock yourself out.”

he screws his entire face up, and abbot is approaching quicker now, with that lethal anger on his face. robby isn’t far behind… or santos, either, for that matter.

“you are a stupid fucking bitch,” he says, taking a step closer to you, shrinking himself in size to be on your level. “and you’re not pretty enough to get away with an attitude like–”

abbot makes a move to lunge, and robby has to physically pull him back. the man lets out an ugly laugh and all you see is red, bright red. “oh, what’s your fuckin’ grandpa going to do?”

the crack that rings out when your palm hits his cheek could be heard around the world. it opens up a cacophony of mayhem– between you and him, the bartenders, abbot, robby, santos getting ready to throw in a punch of her own… but it all culminates with the lot of you being told to get the fuck out, this isn’t philly.

with your jaw set and your head held high, you are the first one to storm out of the bar. and maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the fact that a stranger just called you a bitch, but all you feel is an unsettled sort of anger.

you hear abbot say your name behind you.

you stop. the pittsburgh early spring still has a bite to it, especially when it’s nearing midnight. the wind makes your eyes sting, tears trailing down your cheeks. it’s the wind. it’s just the wind. “no,” you say lowly, pointing a finger in his direction. “fuck you.”

“fuck me?”

“yeah. fuck you.” you tug your jacket closer to yourself and wipe the tears away with the back of your hand. “you ignore me, you tell me this isn’t going to work, and then want to play protective… yeah. fuck you.” you go quiet, go to turn, but you can’t. you’re frozen in place. “no, it’s not even that. not really. i shouldn’t be mad at you. i should be mad at myself. i’ve been doing things, this whole time, trying to earn your affection back. trying to get you to see what you were missing, see why it was so silly to pretend that we’re not good. but… i’ve felt like shit every day, doing that. i’ve felt small.”

jack doesn’t say anything. robby has ushered all of your coworkers down the street and far away, bless him. when you assess jack’s face, there’s a myriad of things you see. you think you see regret. you know you see hurt. you want to believe you see love.

“and i don’t want to feel small,” you sniffle and wipe a fat, real tear away. “i don’t want to wear a cute outfit because you might see it. i don’t want to flirt with donnie to watch your knuckles go white. i want– i want to sit on your fucking couch. i want to watch some stupid show with you. i want to lay in bed and listen to the police scanner after sex. i want you to want me. and if you don’t, if this is all too much for you, then…” you look him up and down. the body you know intimately, the person you’d be with forever if he let you.

“then no hard feelings.”

you don’t give jack the opportunity to respond. maybe that’s its own special brand of self preservation. you turn, and you walk away from him, towards an empty apartment.

–

when you get home, you do exactly as you cited. you rid yourself of your clothes. you furiously wash your face and then go through the rest of your skin care. you roll yourself a joint, and you bring it out to your patio, and the small table, chair, and ashtray that sit out there.

your apartment isn’t as high up as jack’s. you live in an old building on the third floor, one of the world war two types, with the radiators and beautiful hardwood floors and all of the character in the world. in exchange, you get no dishwasher and a patio that probably isn’t up to city code.

lighting the joint with one hand, you take in a long, nice, inhale. you lean your head back against the wall. you grab your phone and put the marias on and let those big tears roll down your cheeks freely.

the low rumble of a truck pulling up gets your attention. you lift your head up and watch as the vehicle that you’d sat in countless times goes into park. you hear the door open. you watch jack round it, and his eyes are instantly drawn to your patio. he holds his hand up in a wave.

you flip him off.

the chuckle that gets out of him should infuriate you. but it doesn’t.

“yeah, i deserve that.”

“you’re a dick,” you reply, marijuana leaving you honest. you stand up and lean on the railing, looking down at him.

“i am.”

his hands are in his pockets and you can see a war going on in his mind, but then he starts talking. “i’m not good at this part. the… communication, part. i’m not good at this part at all.”

you raise your eyebrows. he continues. “when annie died, i was content to not be with anyone. ever again. a random fuck there and again, just to get it out of my system, sure. but i was content with not opening myself up to that. i always just thought… i thought i was already so fucked up, and since annie knew me before i was so fucked up. i told myself that she was the only one that was going to get it. get me.” he stares up at you. “now, i know that i was wrong in that. obviously.”

you give a slow nod of your head. “but i lived in that reality for so long. that i wasn’t going to be open to that again. and then we started hanging out, and at first, i was able to convince myself it was innocent. i’m your mentor. no lines would get blurred. and then, obviously, they did. but i told myself it was all casual. and when i told myself that, i felt like… yeah, i could do that. i could be good to someone in that capacity. but then,i felt greedy with you. i felt like i wasn’t going to be able to let myself walk away if i stayed any longer. so i forced myself. thought i was doing you a favor.” he rubs the back of his neck. “thought i was doing right by myself. like, the safest option. and then i talked to my therapist.”

you smirk. “the age old solution.”

“yeah, right?” he smirks back at you. “and i told him all of this, yesterday. and you know what he said?” he waits a beat. “he told me i’m a fucking idiot. and i responded, and said that i know i was. because deep down… deep down, i knew it was all bullshit. a defense mechanism.”

he walks closer and puts his hands on the railing of the first floor patio, staring right up at you, you staring down at him. “i should never have made you feel small. and all i want is to show you that i mean it.”

nodding your head slowly, you mull over his every word. you open and close your mouth a couple of times. “i want to tell you to fuck off,” you say honestly. “i want to think you’re just bullshitting me. but…” you meet his eyes. “that’s probably my defense mechanism.”

the quiet overtakes the two of you. all there is is the lull of traffic and the faint whistle of the wind. “it wasn’t about you,” you say. “i knew why you were pushing me away. i understood. i just wanted you to see why those things weren’t real. and i thought that i could control that. and then i just left myself feeling disappointed, and desperate, and messy.”

the two of you watch each other like feral cats, unblinking and unwavering. maybe that’s what you are.

“i’m sorry,” he says, voice softened. “i was a dick. and you were right.”

you nod your head. “come inside before you catch a cold.”

most of the time, you went over to his place. when he steps over the threshold into your apartment, you think that it feels good to have him in your space. to watch him set his shoes by the door, hang his coat up on the little rack. there’s this awkward sort of tension that simmers between the two of you. he must sense it, because he gives you a sideways look. “that wasn’t all i had to say.”

“yeah?” you ask with a playful smile, filling up a glass of water and taking a big gulp from it.

his hands pin you in at your kitchen counter. all of the air is sucked right out of the room. “you told me that you wanted me to want you. right?” you give a nod of your head. “i wanted to be face to face with you when i said this part.” he ghosts his fingertips over your cheeks. “i want every fucking part of you. your wild, messy parts included. especially, even.” his eyes darken a shade. “do you know how crazy you’ve made me? flirting with donnie, that purple you wore tonight?”

you roll your eyes, mostly at yourself. “that was sort of the plan.”

“it worked.” his thumbs brush your hipbones. “every day, i went home to an apartment that had you all over it. a coffee mug on the counter with a lipgloss mark. the blanket that you love and curl into almost every single night. your book on my coffee table. i felt stupid. i felt small, too. i felt like a coward. i was a coward. and i just–”

you raise up your hand, pressing it against his chest. not pressing him away, just… there. his brows furrow. you say, “you ramble when you’re nervous and when you want someone to feel better.” your hand slides up his chest. “i forgive you.”

the relief that washes over him is a visible, tangible thing. you feel it in the way he grips your hips as a result, the way his face falls into the crook of your neck. you close your eyes and run your hand through the silver streak you love so much. he pulls back and there’s a little tear shining in his eye. and he says three words that are simple but profound, that strike you where you stand. “i love you.” he nods. that steady, stable, self-assured version of himself is there again. “i know that now. i knew it then, too.”

you nod your head slowly. “i know you do,” you say, because you do, you really do. “and i love you too.”

those dimples shine at you. not too deep. just right. he pulls your body in flush with his and it’s like you melt away into nothing but a glowing ball of light. fuzzy and warm.

a switch is flipped. your hands go hungry and your lips find his. jack leads you to your bedroom. he lays you down and he spreads you out. he takes off each article of clothing, slowly. he lowers himself until his head is between your thighs and apologizes with his tongue, until you arch off your bed. he climbs up and he sinks inside of you in one satisfying motion. you’re all nails down his back and relentless eye contact, and you’re the kind of desperate and messy that you want to be. he’s just the same– his pace is consistent, deep, and each thrust tells you just how sorry he really is.

you finish with an explosion behind your eyes, and he tumbles over off that cliff after you. he rolls off of you and you lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling. your hand goes to rest on his chest. he takes it and presses a kiss to it before he raises, comes back with a damp cloth and cleans you up with care. love. he leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, tender and right.

he starts messing with the covers, brows all screwed up. “what could you possibly be looking for right now?” you ask, chest still heaving.

“this,” he says, locating his phone. he stares down at it until he puts it between you. a faint static emits from it.

“what the hell is–”

“3B60, the subject is fleeing on foot.”

you between him and his phone, police scanner coming from the speaker, incredulously. he just grunts as he settles back into bed, pulling you into him. “i’m just listening to what you want, kid.”

[gigiwritess]

LIKE THE STAR? BRIGHTER.

dr. jack abbott x f!resident!reader "vega" aka "wildcard"

wc: 2,205 synopsis: just another normal day at the pitt—except it's not. for the first time in a long time, jack might have found an equal in every sense. tl;dr: dr. abbott meets a new resident for the first time.

contents: 20-year age gap (vega is 26, jack is 46), usual pitt dynamics. probably lots of medical inaccuracies that im not gonna apologize for. very quick mentions of mental health issues. this is totally self-inserted and vega is totally based in lots of aspects of myself. gonna probably update this list when i have more creativity.

gigi's note: this man and the pitt have been consuming my every waking thought so of course it culminated in the fastest fic i've ever written. i have a whole little series planned for these two, but im gonna try to write at least some of them in a manner where you dont necessarily need to read the others. read the end notes for more info!!! enjoy!!!!

PLAYLIST | NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST

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It had already become a habit—more often than not, Jack’s days off ended up being spent at the Pitt. Not that he minded; the Pitt’s chaos was better than the chaos inside his head that ran free when he was alone at home. At home, the silence was suffocating—he had too much time to think. Here, every beep and shout gave him a reason not to listen to the thoughts clawing at the inside of his skull. Here, he knew exactly what he was doing. And he was damn good at it.

To Vega, being in the Pitt made her feel more alive than she’d ever felt. She didn’t mind the chaos—she thrived in it. Being surrounded by it sharpened her focus, made everything else—the endless voice in her head, the black monster inside her chest threatening day by day to swallow her whole—fade into nothing but background static.

Today was no different. The Pitt was, like usual, a chaotic hellscape; machines humming, monitors beeping, medical staff shouting orders, the scent of antiseptic filling everyone’s nostrils. The kind of place that felt both alive and dead at the same time. Jack had just arrived after a few hours of sleep after his night shift, clutching a cup of coffee in his hand, when he first spotted her across the ER in trauma two—a woman who didn’t seem to belong here, but did. Jack had barely any time to take a proper look at her before she was on the move again.

She moved fast, braid whipping against her back as she called for suction, adjusting doses, her hands slick with blood. The Pitt demanded everything and she gladly gave it. Without hesitation, without pause. It was what she lived for.

“Push another 20 of epi. I need suction—no, hold it, go with 50 cc,” she called out, her voice cutting through the chaos as she worked. Controlled. Sharp. The team moved, almost grateful for the authority in her voice. She didn’t miss the way Santos’ hands trembled, or how Whitaker clung to her words like a lifeline.

Jack hadn’t seen her before—not that he was keeping track; new faces came and went. But something about this one made him look twice. He caught sight of her again—tall, dark hair, sharp, moving fast between patients. She was a calm center, a fixed point in the storm. She worked with precision, her hands a blur as she gave orders, her focus unwavering as she moved around and directed the team with an ease that made it look effortless, a mixture of experienced residents and interns following her every instruction without hesitation. She moved around the room like she owned it. She was focused.

“Who’s that?” Jack asked, voice neutral.

“That is my star resident,” Robby said with a hint of amusement in his voice, noticing his curious gaze. “Wildcard.”

Then, still working on the patient, she felt it. His stare. She was used to people’s eyes on her all the time in this place—curious glances, usually directed at her tattoos whenever they poked out; interns sizing her up, sometimes with grudging respect, sometimes openly doubting her abilities to handle the weight of the Pitt. But this wasn’t that. This wasn’t the usual ER gawkers or old surgeons with smug superiority. This was different. Something else.

Jack raised an eyebrow. He had seen his fair share of capable residents, but something about the way she moved—almost like she was born for this—caught his attention. She was completely in her element, cutting through the chaos with a level of focus that suggested she’d been there before. Not that Jack expected anything less, but there was something about her that piqued his interest.

She felt the weight of his gaze, analyzing, unapologetic. She recognized that old, instinctive prickle at the back of her neck—the kind of awareness she only felt around people who could do damage. Not the loud, blustering types, no. The quiet ones. The wolves pretending to be men.

But she was no sheep.

Vega didn’t look up, focused solely on the person in front of her. She let him look. Let him think he was unnoticed, but she felt the scrape of it against her nerves.

“Wildcard?” Jack asked, nodding toward the scene, his tone cool but intrigued.

Robby grinned, stepping back slightly to give Jack a better view. “Yeah. Earned it on her first shift. Handled a mass casualty like it was nothing. Nerves of steel.”

Jack didn’t reply. Instead, he just watched her as she worked. There was a quiet intensity to the way she moved. She wasn’t loud or flashy, didn’t seek attention; instead, she commanded the room with a quiet authority, in a way that spoke volumes about her ability to take charge when things went south. It was a quality Jack respected, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it out loud. She wasn’t just surviving in the chaos—she was thriving in it. Something he did, too.

When the patient was finally stable, able to wait for the OR, Robby called her name. She peeled the paper gown off and turned towards them, tugging off the gloves with a sharp pull, and met Jack’s gaze head-on.

“Wildcard,” Robby said, “this is Dr. Jack Abbott. Jack, this is Dr. Vega, also known as Wildcard.”

She barely heard his voice—she already knew who he was.

Dr. Jack Abbott. The ER’s storm cloud, a man with a reputation for being as sharp as he was reckless. She’d heard plenty—everyone had. Stories traded in break rooms, warnings half-uttered with a mixture of respect and almost fear. A doctor built out of sharp things and bad habits, all jagged edges and rough temper. A man people either followed or avoided. And now here he was, giving her that look like he was trying to decide if she was worth his time.

Their gazes locked—not an awkward glance. She didn’t look away as most people did when meeting him for the first time, usually too nervous to look him in the eye. No. There was a beat of silence, a brief exchange of recognition, as if both of them could feel something shift in the air between them. Subtle, but undeniable. She sized him up in a fraction of a second, eyes sharp and unreadable, but he knew what that look was. For the first time in months, Jack felt something in his chest unclench, some flicker of recognition that made the blood in his veins hum with something dangerously close to life.

None of the stories she’d heard did him justice. He wasn’t the washed-up, better-than-everyone asshole she expected. For a second, the ER didn’t exist; the screaming monitors, the sharp tang of blood and bleach—gone. It was just him. Dark eyes, sharp jaw, slight tilt of his head, the heavy kind of presence you could feel in your teeth. The way he looked at her—not polite, not exactly curious. He looked at her like a man who was curious to see what would happen if he pushed. Good. She was tired of polite. She was tired of fake pleasantries.

She looked younger than he expected. But there was something else in her eyes that made her feel older than she probably was. Experienced.

Her lips twitched—barely a smile, but the kind that dared him to make the first move.

“Dr. Vega.” His voice was low, neutral, but her stomach did a dangerous twist.

There was a familiarity in the way he looked at her—not exactly recognition, but that kind of animal instinct of like recognizes like. The people who knew what it was to thrive in the places others avoided. The people who thrived in the chaos.

She couldn’t help the slight curve of her mouth, barely there, but enough to be noticed by him.

“Heard things about you, Dr. Abbott,” she said, her voice even, threading a fine line between professional and personal. “Thought you’d be scarier.”

Her words were like a soft challenge, the ghost of a smile on her lips, and it was Jack’s time to quirk an eyebrow, his eyes darkening, a flicker of something dangerous and amused sliding into place. Was she mocking him? Or was she just testing the waters? He couldn’t quite decide.

Jack tilted his head slightly, a slow, crooked smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. She met his eyes head-on, unblinking. No one held her gaze for long—too sharp, too cold—but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t even try to hide the way his gaze dropped, assessing. Not leering. Calculating. Like a predator working out if she was worth the risk.

“Stick around, Doc,” he replied. “You’ll get there.”

Oh, she fucking liked that.

Robby snorted, glancing between them with an amused look in his eyes. Jack wasn’t the type to be rattled easily, but there was a palpable tension now between the two of them, something that felt familiar yet almost… uncomfortable. Different. Jack didn’t show it, of course, but Robby knew him better than everyone.

Vega had had a lot of first meetings since walking into this ER not more than four weeks ago. Most were forgettable, most faded by the next shift. But there was weight to this one. The air around them felt tight, stretched thin in a way she recognized from old fights and late-night emergencies. The kind of moment where you either stepped up or stepped aside, where you either fought the wave headfirst or let it wash over you, carry you with it.

“How’s day shift treating you?” Abbott asked, and Robby’s eyebrow went up, already seeing where Jack’s head was going.

Vega realized—these two men knew each other better than everyone else.

“The coffee could be better,” she replied, finishing what she was typing on the computer.

Jack’s lips quirked, a flicker of dry amusement in his otherwise unreadable expression. “Night shift coffee’s better,” he replied smoothly, taking a sip from his cup, the steam rising from it like he was making a point of something, just for her.

Robby’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched the interaction with newfound interest, like a new TV show that was starting to catch his attention. He shook his head. “Don’t you even think about stealing her from me, Abbott.”

Jack’s eyes found hers again, and neither looked away. “Yeah, yeah. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

But the way he said it—quiet, edged—suggested otherwise.

Robby drifted off to take care of another matter, and she half-expected him to do the same, say something smug or look away. He didn’t. Neither did she. She raised her eyebrows and smirked at him, almost as if she was daring him to do something about it.

“You’re welcome to try, Dr. Abbott,” Vega said, her voice smooth, low, carrying a spark of challenge that showed itself in the way his jaw tightened slightly.

It was brief, but it was there. The smallest tell that he was just a little thrown by her, caught off guard. She liked that. She liked that a lot. Probably more than she should’ve.

He wasn’t used to being challenged quite like that. There was something about her—something too familiar in the way she carried herself that made him pause, that made him stop in his tracks.

“Noted,” he replied, five simple letters carrying more weight than normal. It felt like a promise. Or a threat—she couldn’t tell.

Both excited her, both made her heart skip a beat and made her skin prickle with something she couldn’t decipher yet. The air between them tightened, thickened. That kind of electric stillness you only get before a bad decision—the kind you’d make twice just to feel something. The kind she was built for.

He held her gaze, and she held his, never once faltering, up until she turned her back to see another patient. Jack was rattled—it’d been a while since someone managed to do that. She pulled a chart off the rack and moved on to the next patient with effortless grace. As he stared at her back, he felt an inexplicable pull, one he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel. For the first time in a long time, something in Jack’s chest pulled tight. Not enough to show, but enough for him to feel it.

Even as she walked away, she still felt it—a tug in her chest, his gaze burning between her shoulder blades, the awareness of his eyes on her as she crossed the room.

Jack didn’t move. Not yet. As she was about to disappear behind a curtain, his voice called after her.

“Vega,” he said.

Not Wildcard. Not yet. He said her name like a question. Or a challenge—she couldn’t decide. She paused. A beat. Half a heartbeat. Let the silence hang there, heavy and thick and hungry. Then she turned her head, one eyebrow raised in silent question.

“Like the star?” he asked, voice low, rough, unreadable, his eyes full of things she couldn’t decipher.

For the first time since clocking in that morning, a real smile spread across her face.

“Brighter,” she said softly and went back on her way.

She didn’t need to look back to know he was still watching her.

Good.

gigi's note: PLEASE tell me your opinions on this and what you think of the series!!!! the future pieces are gonna dive deep into vega's mental issues (which are my own). not gonna be exactly a slow burn because i hate slow burns, i just prefer the burning head-on lol comments and reblogs are most welcome!!!

my inbox is always open and i would loooooooove to yap about this man. xoxo <3

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[at-this-point-i-dont-even-know]

Don't Go where I Can't Follow Part 1/2

pairing: Dr. Jack Abbott x F!Nurse!Ex-militaryReader

summary: You join Jack at the hospital after waking up alone, and the activities of the day bring up bad memories as the shooter closes in on the hospital

(Warning for normal Pitt mayhem, and gun violence. I know nothing about medical procedures, nor do I know anything about the military. Reader is Australian because I am a self indulgent bitch)

The Pitt was overrun by the time you walked through the door.

Everyone was rushing as the urgent cases were dealt with and those marked non-urgent were shuffled off to the side, interns being left to manage what they could.

You took it all in and smiled, it was like you were back in a MASH unit, a place you were more comfortable in then the sterile and normally ‘almost orderly’ Pitt that you had moved countries to work in. 

Your shift wasn’t due to start for hours but once you had awoken to an empty bed and a blaring radio there was nowhere else you could be but here.

Out of the staff room, with a phone to her ear rushed Dana, her hair long since fallen out of the messy bun you had seen her in at the beginning of the day. 

And she was sporting a shiny new bruise under her eye.

“What the fuck happened to you?” you said as you both fell into step, your fingers dancing gently over the growing bloom of blue and purple.

“Idiot patient, it's fine, not even the worst thing that happened today.”

You blew out a breath in sympathy, “Usually the crazies come out at night, is an eclipse due?”

“Only in the Pitt.”

Dana’s always watchful eyes shifted over you, and rested on your exposed neck where you knew a godawful hickey was blooming.

“Looks like you also had an exciting day.”

“And yet I woke up alone.”

Dana sighed as you laughed, it was a never ending conversation about your failed love life.

You and Dana were both charge nurses who spent more time in the hospital than at home with family and friends. When you had arrived here, fresh from an honorary discharge with a rough Australian accent and more PTSD than anyone should rightly have, she had given you a couch to crash on and all the hard truths you needed.

As you reached the desk you both shared, you were grabbing files and barking orders before your jacket was off. 

Knowing what you would be walking into you had run to work in your scrubs, not even bringing a handbag or your keys. At least four people in this hospital had a set of keys to your flat and they would either lend them to you or walk you home at the end of the day. 

“Incoming!” was yelled from the loading dock and you ran towards the sound, Dana was the best charge nurse in the country, she didn’t need you hovering.

You had been a MASH nurse for the Australian Armed Forces for over ten years, this was what you could do in your sleep.

You grabbed the first gurney that came through the doors and started working. 

Within fifteen minutes you are soaked in blood and sweat but the wave of bodies that reduced and you could catch your breath.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

You turn slowly, plastering a fake smile on your lips, as you pull off your apron before grabbing another.

Jack Abbott was a stone faced bastard, with greying hair and eyes that looked straight into your soul. In the time you had known him he had made more people cry then you had made laugh. 

“There was a shooting- where else would I be?”

He pulled your arm and led you from the main room of the Pitt into an exam room that now held all the emergency equipment they would need, very shortly, if the news was to be believed.

“Your shift starts in two hours-”

“So does yours.” you cut him off, ripping your arm from his grasp.

His eyes softened and his voice dropped, “You don’t have to be here. You can come back when it's done.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Of course you knew why Jack was telling you to go home, but you wanted him to say it himself. 

“No I don’t, why shouldn't I be here?”

Jack let out a sigh and looked down at my shoulder, his glare felt like it could see through the scrubs and singlet I wore and see straight to the raised scar tissue that ruined my ability to wear a strapless top forever. 

“I got shot once. I’m good, this isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with a bullet wound since. God Jack, it's not even my first mass shooting! You can’t hide me away everytime we get gunshot victims in the ER, we live in America!” Your own accent dragged out the last sentence and you laughed without humour. 

He swallowed what he was going to say, and instead stepped closer, his own breathing becoming jagged and he leant his forehead to yours, your breath mirroring his as you both took a moment to ground each other.

“I’m not going anywhere.” you whispered to him as you kissed him gently.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

-----------------------------------

Once upon a time somewhere in the middle of a warzone, you and Jack had met. He was already an angry senior doctor, with more medals than he could physically wear and an attitude problem they could see from space.

You were new, a baby nurse, who had signed up on a whim. 

Hands deep in the cavity of a lieutenant that had made the mistake of wandering too far afield, a weird friendship had bloomed. 

He snarled at you, and you followed him around like a puppy desperate for love.

And while it may have been an unconventional place to find it, after a year, love had come. Or at least you had thought so. 

The years passed and you both relisted again and again to serve your respective countries. And fate had put you both back in the same towns, sharing hospitals made of canvas or blown apart buildings.

But as many relationships that had happened in the desert, with war raging around you, you were torn apart by circumstances beyond your control.

You were sent to a different MASH unit, with an inexperienced doctor who needed your steady hands. By this point you had almost as many medals as Jack, and experience that none of your colleagues could hold a candle to.

It was at this MASH unit where your military career had ended, with a stray bullet in your shoulder and a bomb destroying the medevac team that came to save you. 

You laid in the sand, holding your own wound together, under the wreck of the jeep for two days before someone came to save you.

From there it took you six months to recover physically, first in a hospital in Cairo then home to Sydney where you spent months staring at a ceiling, waiting for Jack to walk through the door.

He never did and when you finally got your phone working again, you had expected calls, messages or even an email from him, you didn’t expect complete radio silence.

He had never rung, never messaged and even your spam emails held no words of wonder from him.

Before your accident you both had communicated daily, in some way or another just to let the other know you had made it through another day. 

But you had received nothing.

With blind fear you had thought he too had been attacked, that he had lost his life somewhere in the sand. 

With shaking hands you had contacted a mutual colleague, a civilian, who had explained Jack had left the army and was now working in Pittsburgh of all places.

So that's where you went.

After three planes and way too many painkillers you found yourself at the front door of the ER.

Dana had been the first person you saw.

“Excuse me- I am so sorry to disturb you but does a Doctor Jack Abbott work here?” You had been friendly, professional and to the point. 

She smiled slightly, with a tilt of her head, “Who's asking?”

You had returned her slight smile, knowing that she would give you nothing if your next answer was not honest.

“An old friend, we used to work together.” Your posture and style didn’t require you to elaborate, between your almost crew cut hair (Most of it had burnt away in the bombing) and your no nonsense clothing, you knew she knew you were ex-military.

“He’s around here somewhere, but we’re busy so you may have to wait in chairs.” She gestured to the overcrowded waiting room, and you almost cried at the thought of sitting down. Your body was exhausted, you had left the Sydney hospital against medical orders, and the travel had exhausted you beyond anything you had ever felt.

But that faded away as he walked into the room.

He had his head down with a frown etched across his forehead as he angrily pocked at the ipad in his hands.

You would have laughed if it had been any other time, you had both been terrible at technology and preferred handwritten charts and orders over pressing buttons on a tablet.

“Hello Dr Abbott.” You called out.

He turned slowly, his body stilling like a rabbit in headlights as he looked across the crowded room. You didn’t know if the hospital staff had all shut up to watch the interaction or if you just didn’t notice anything other than the man ten feet from you.

“You-” he started- the ipad tumbling from his hands as the ten feet distance disappeared and suddenly you were in his arms. 

He smelt like sweat and lemongrass, just like he had before, and your head swam with the smell. The anger and the pain melted away as he clung to you. 

You wanted to be strong, pull him off and give you a piece of your mind, after all you had rehearsed it the entire trip.

But as his fingers dug heavily into your skin, bruising as he held you tight against him, the words melted away.

“You didn’t call me.” you whispered into his ear and he pulled away just slightly, your foreheads now resting against each other. You see tears glistening in his weary eyes.

“You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive-” he kept muttering, his hands not leaving your body as he touched your back, your shoulders, your arms, he kept touching you, fear all over his face.

Then it hits you, Jack thought you were dead, he had heard about the shooting, or the bombing and he must have heard there were no survivors in the days before your rescue. 

“Baby- I’m okay.” you muttered to him, over and over as you two clung together in the middle of the ER, people walking around you. But no one interfered as you held each other tight, reassuring the other you were there.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“The shooter is coming this way.” Jack whispered, even though there was no one to overhear. 

“I guessed as much.” you said as you both pulled yourselves back together, there would be a time to wallow in your own memories, but the ER in the middle of an active shooter situation is not the place for you.

There were SWAT all over the hospital, in uniform and out, you had clocked them the moment you stepped into the ER driveway.

Both you and Jack had dealt with awful situations, providing medical assistance while bullets flew past your ears. But no one else had. The senior ER staff had dealt with more bullet wounds then many but the shooters never dared enter the building.

“I need you -” Jack started but you cut him off.

“I’m not going home Jack!”

And the grumpy doctor only sighed and then let out a breath that was almost a laugh, “I know that, I need you to go to the yellow zone and keep an eye on the interns. It's day one for most of them and this is not exactly something that's covered by the idiots in their classrooms.”

You nodded and with a brush of your lips you separated.

The interns didn’t need you as much as you had thought, in moments like these it would make or break new doctors in your experience and one of them stood out more than the others. Melissa or Mel as she quickly asked to be called, had taken on the role of teacher as she worked between five different beds, yelling over patients to give her fellow interns any assistance they may need.

Time falls away as between the two of you, the yellow zone falls into a steady flow.

It was in an almost peaceful moment where you stopped to show Santos how to tie off a field tourniquet, after catching her trying to do something only found in inaccurate medical dramas. 

She had started to explain her actions, talking as if she was more senior doctors and you an idiot but you snapped at her, and her eyes filled with tears as they grew larger.

“You don’t get to make calls like this without an attending, do you understand Ms Santos.” She was not looking at you now and before you could snap at her you heard a small shriek from Mel who came up behind Santos. Her own eyes turned to saucers and her body shaking as she gestured for you to turn around.

The world swirls as you turn slowly, raising your hands on instinct. 

The shooter is before you, his face half hidden under a cap and his clothes, once they would have been nice, but after all the violence they were steeped in the blood of his victims. His piercing blue eyes look straight at you and his lips curl into a cruel smile.

Your training kicked in and stepped a little closer to him, your hands now way above your head, your body covering Santos’s who you could just see on your peripheral.

Mel was not in your eyeline but you prayed she stayed behind the other intern.

The shooter was talking but you heard nothing as blood rushed to your head, the gun was raised higher and higher and he stepped closer to you.

“This is a hospital, we will not hurt you but I need you to put the gun down.” It has been years since you had used your military voice but it fell from your lips without pause.

The shooter just looked at you, and his smile got broader.

“I’ll shoot you first.” he promised, raising the gun up to your chest.

You didn’t close your eyes, you didn’t rush out of the way, because if you did that the interns would be in the firing line. You would hold your position.

Movement behind the shooter caught your eye just as the bullet was released from the chamber.

Time stopped as you looked at Jack, his face now deathly white as he realises what he's walked into.

“I’m sorry-” you mouth to him, and then time resumes and you fall to your knees, pain erupting in your chest. You hear a scream and another gunshot but you can’t tear your eyes from him.

He’s running to your side but bodies stop him and then hands are touching you and grabbing at you and darkness keeps threatening to take you under.

“I’m sorry.” you try to say, but your throat fills with blood and you cough against the pressure.

I’m sorry Jack.

I’m so sorry.

[rynwrites4fun]

Eyes On Me | Jack Abbot x Popstar ! Reader

Jack Abbot x f!Popstar !  Reader

Summary: You’re a breakout popstar on your first headlining tour. Fame hit fast—sold-out shows, screaming fans, and nonstop momentum. But behind the scenes, it’s overwhelming. You’re struggling to keep up with the pressure and pace. After collapsing backstage after a show in Pittsburg, you’re rushed to the ER—where you meet Dr. Jack Abbott.

Word Count: 6491

Warning: Age Gap (mid 20’s/late 40’s or early 50’s,) Mentions of mental health struggles discussions of suicidal thoughts/behavior

Author's Notes: Hi I’m ryn. Honestly this fanfic was is for myself LOL. Jack Abbot x Popstar ! Reader has been circling in my brain for the last 3 days and I just had to brain dump a story. Sorry for any grammatical errors and/or inaccuracies and unrealistic aspects. Like I said brain dump I just needed to get this out of my head before I went crazy. This is just for fun. Okay, enjoy.

Pittsburgh—night 22 of 36 shows on your tour across North America, all crammed into two relentless months. 

Your career had skyrocketed overnight. One day, you dropped your first single, Hands and the next, your song was all over the radio. Suddenly, you were doing live performances on late-night shows, Hollywood events, and festivals, posing for magazine covers, releasing your debut album Sultry, and now headlining your first tour. 

Performing and creating music was everything you ever wanted, but it came at a cost. You’ve been silently struggling for a while now. The pace, the preassure, expectations, the sheer magnitude of it all were starting to wear down—physically, mentally, and emotionally. You just wished you could hit pause. Slow it all down. Everything was happening so fast. You were trying to figure out how to process it all. And beneath all that, you felt incredibly lonely. 

You were exhausted, but you kept going anyway. You had to. People depended on you, your fans, your team, the crew, your label. You didn’t want to let anyone down, so you pushed through, running on fumes, but after tonight's show, it finally caught up to you. Once the curtains closed and your adrenaline wore off, you collapsed. 

—-

11:25 pm Dr. Jack Abbot reads on the computer at the ER’s Central station. His shift had started three hours ago, and so far, it had been uneventful. A few drunkards in a bar fight, some run-of-the-mill illnesses, the occasional kitchen mishap—nothing out of the ordinary. The night was still young. 

“We got the bus coming from PGG Paints Arena. ETA 5 minutes” a nurse calls out. 

“Heard!” Jack shouts as he types. 

“Oh skin to skin, your touch feels like a sin- I want you can’t you see, I need your hands all over me…” Doctor John Shen sang under his breath a high pitch voice as he picked up a clipboard off the central counter and scans through it. 

John continued to mumble words. Jack raised an eyebrow, glancing up from the report he was typing up to look at his fellow attending.

John could feel Jack's eyes and looked up at him. John shrugs “Hey, Hands is a catchy song…gulity pleasure” he said, unbothered by being caught singing something vaguely suggestive. Jack didn’t ask—he just assumed it was some pop song.

“Never heard of it…” 

John was shocked. “You’re kidding! You never heard of Hands?” It’s all over the radio- pretty sure it's ranked at number 3 on Billboard Hot 100.” 

Jack sighs, “I don’t listen to the radio, or pop music for that matter, Shen” 

“Right, you listen to a police scanner in your free time like you’re-” John drops his voice into a gravelly imitation and makes a grump face “Batman”

Jack rolls his eyes, continuing to type.

“Honestly, if nightshift were a superheros you’d definitely be Batman- you know, you finding comfort in the dark and all-” John was a talker, already veering into one of his usual tangents. 

“Anyway, the singer of Hands, biggest Popstar in the world right now- she had a concert tonight at the area- she’s sold out 36 shows across North America– impressive honestly–”

Jack was only half-listening—actually, not even that. He hummed and nodded anyway, pretending he was following along. Jack usually zoned out when John was on his tangents when it was something not related to work. 

 “You should listen to her stuff, it’s actually really good! Her album Sultry—I’ve been playing it on my way to work some nights. For a debut album, it’s pretty solid. Bop after bop, banger after banger—”

“Don’t you have patients to attend to, Shen?” Jack cut in, needing him to stop yapping.

Jack looks over his shoulder, his attention drawn to sudden commotion in the ambulance bay behind him. Muffled noise, shouting, screaming, and strobe of camera flashes lit up the glass of the automatic doors. The chaos was visible—but just barely contained.

“What the hell is going on?” He furrowed his eyebrows as he fully turned around, and straightened himself from hunching over one of the computer monitors.

“The bus just pulled up,” John says

“Yeah, but-”

Before Jack could take a step or say anything more, the automatic bay doors slid open. The muffled noise from outside crashed into the ER like a wave.

The paramedics burst through, wheeling in the gurney. The head of the gurney was propped at an angle. 

“Well I be damned, it's her” John said casually, like Jack was supposed to know exactly who she was.

Jack furrowed his eyebrows as he looked over John “Who?” 

John shot Jack an annoyed You weren’t listening look and said your name. “Only the biggest popstars in the world right now—ring any bells? The whole conversation we just had- came on, old man, weren’t you listening?” 

From where Jack stood, he could see a young woman—you—trembling, your breaths shallow and rapid.

Your hair was disheveled, makeup smudged and streaked. A bomber jacket draped loosely over your shoulders. But beneath it, he caught a flash of purple sparkles—stagewear, most likely.

Beside the two paramedics wheeling you in, three people buzzed around you like bees, talking over one another, yet you looked numb. Not registering or taking anything they were saying. 

The paramedic shouted over all the noise and commotion  "Twenty-five-year-old female, syncopal episode post-performance. Now conscious and alert—”

Somehow, through the rush and chaos, your eyes managed to find Jack’s. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul—and in that moment, yours didn’t lie.

Jack didn’t see a popstar. He saw a human. A woman who looked disassociated, exhausted. Sad. Worn thin.

He’d seen that same look before—in the military, and even here, on the job. That quiet, aching kind of broken. The kind that creeps in when you’ve been running on empty for too long.

Time seemed to slow as you were wheeled past him. He was an older man, a doctor you assumed. You couldn’t look away from his dark eyes. The look in his eyes. No one had ever looked at you like that—not the way he was in that moment. Different from every glance, every stare you’d ever known. And for a moment, you thought he could see you. Really see you. The weight of it made you sit up slightly, still staring back at him.

“I got this one- South Wing, Exam Room 4 —move her!” John barked, falling in step beside the gurney as it sped past, your eye contact with Jack breaking. 

Snapping out what felt like a trance, Jack gets back to work. 

“Call for more security-” Jack snaps one of the nurses as he bolts from central, heading to the ambulance bay. The two security guards on duty were overwhelmed, struggling to control the crowd.

 “Hey! HEY! you can’t be here unless you are sick, injured, dying or are here for someone that is!” He shouts over the chaos “If not get the hell out of my ER and ambulance bay!!!” 

The commotion only grows—cameras flashing, people yelling, shoving for a better view, the frenzy thick with screams and blinding light.

More security comes to help push everyone back out, managing the crowd. Jack exhales, knowing they’ve got it under control. Without another word, he turns on his heel and makes his way back inside, the chaos fading behind him like background noise.

He was going to head to your exam room—something about you lingered. That look in your eyes. He’d seen people in pain before, but this was something different. Quieter. Deeper. And he couldn’t shake it.

He was gonna head over to your exam room, but he was cut off by another nurse.

“Doctor Abbot! Trauma Room 1—stabbing victim”

Jack glanced down the South Wing, hesitating for half a second.

“Copy that,” he said, before turning and rushing toward Trauma Room 1.

___

The exam room was loud and overcrowded. Your manager, publicist, and assistant hovered around you as a nurse tried to take your vitals and ask you basic intake questions. Doctor Shen was trying–unsuccessfully– to get your team to leave so their staff could do their job, but my manager refused. 

“It’s best if you wait outside-” The doctor states. 

Your manager protested “No!” 

“Look, we can’t do our job effectively and efficiently if-” the doctor is cut off by your manager. 

“Well your medical professionals! I’m pretty sure you can handle extra people in a room! Hello, you do surgeries and what not with more than five people in a room!”

Your chest heaved as you sat there, still listening, your breathing shallow and uneven.

“For the sake of the patient—”

“Well, the sake of my client—”

I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Stop!” You said sharply. “Mac, give them space-”

“What?” Your  manager blinked, stunned. 

“Let them do their job. I—I feel fine, like I told the paramedics,” You said quickly, forcing a shaky smile. “They just need to check me out. Once they see everything’s okay, I’ll be out of here in no time. And we’ll hit the road”

That was a lie. You didn’t feel fine. 

All these eyes on you—the world—and yet none of them truly saw you.

They couldn’t tell you were faking it. Couldn’t see how much you were silently struggling. How you really felt. Not even the people you saw every day. Part of you felt guilty for even being here—for slowing everything down, for putting yourself and your team behind schedule. Everyone was counting on you. And you were falling apart.

Your manager sighed “Alright.” nodded in agreement, and the rest of your team quietly made their way out of your exam room and directed to the family room. 

You let out a sigh.

“Sorry about them, I didn't mean to cause any trouble.” You apologized to Doctor Shen and the Nurse as they began to check my vitals. 

“Don’t sweat it. It’s fine—comes with the territory in the ER. Your team’s not the first to argue with us, and they’re definitely not the worst.” 

You let out a breath, nodding faintly.

“Still… I hate that it got like that.”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it. What we should be focusing on is you. Is it okay if we go over a few questions?”

Doctor Shen and the nurse continued their routine—asking questions, checking my vitals. I answered them all, but inside, I felt numb. Like I was moving through it on autopilot.

When they finally left, the silence swallowed everything.

You later there for god knows how long. Curled up on your side, motionless.

Your boots were scattered nearby, forgotten. The tights clung to me like a second skin, and the purple sparkle bodysuit caught the fluorescent lights—still shimmering like it belonged on a stage, not under a hospital ceiling.

But you kept it all in. You didn't let yourself break. Even though you wanted to. Desperately. Ypu wanted to scream. To beg someone to just see me. To understand. To notice what youwere holding together by threads.

You needed somewhere to go. Anywhere but these walls.

You slid off the exam bed, my boots still on the floor, untouched. You didn’t bother putting them back on. You didn’t need to. Out in the ER, the chaos buzzed around me—everyone seemed preoccupied, moving in their own world. But none of that mattered. You didn’t stop.

As you quickly searched for an escape, anything to get away, I finally found the stairs. Floor after floor, my body moved on autopilot, pulled by some quiet instinct—a need for silence. For up.

The rooftop door wasn’t even locked.

And suddenly, there you were —standing beneath the open night sky, the wind pulling at my hair, the city lights stretching out below me like a pulse, faint but steady.

___

Jack peeled off his gloves and paper gown, tossing them into the overstuffed disposal bin without a second glance. His safety glasses came off next, dropped into a tray with a soft clatter.

The stabbing victim had finally been stabilized—barely. They’d coded multiple times on the table, the blood loss severe, the damage extensive. It had been a fight, but for now, they had a pulse.

Jack made his way to the center of the ER, eyes lifting to the patient triage board glowing on the monitors above the central station. He stood there for a moment, just staring—taking it all in, processing the chaos the way only someone used to it could.

John approached quietly, coming to stand beside him. For a moment, neither of them spoke—just two physicians staring up at the ever-shifting list of names, numbers, and needs blinking across the screen.

“Rough night,” John finally said, his voice low, more of a statement than a question.

Jack didn’t look away. “When isn’t it?”

Jack’s eyes stayed on the board, but his mind drifted.

The popstar.

He didn’t even need to say her name—she was already burned into the back of his mind. The look in her eyes when they brought her in.

“How’s she doing?” he asked finally, still staring ahead.

John followed his gaze for a beat, then glanced at the chart in her hand.

“Vitals stabilized. Labs were all over the place when she came in—dehydration, low electrolytes, stress markers through the roof. But mostly?” She paused. “She’s just exhausted. Like, bone-deep. Extreme fatigue. Burnout, plain and simple.”

Jack finally turned to face him.

“Does she say anything?”

John shook her head. “Not much. I didn't need to. You could see it all over her.”

Jack nodded slowly, jaw tightening just slightly.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “You could see it the second she walked in… or was wheeled in.”

He leaned on the edge of the counter, eyes distant now, somewhere far above the triage board. “It wasn’t just physical. It was in her eyes. Like she’d been running on fumes for a long time, and this was the moment her body finally said ‘no more.’”

John studied him for a moment. “You connected with her.”

Jack didn’t answer right away. He just let out a quiet breath through his nose, staring at the board, but not really seeing it anymore.

“Maybe it’s because I’ve seen it before,” he said quietly. “That look. The kind of exhaustion that doesn’t show up in lab results. The kind that runs deeper than what anyone can measure. You can tell when someone’s been running on empty for too long... and their body just finally gives out.”

John says “She still has 14 more shows left. With the pace she’s been going, I honestly don’t know how she’s made it this far.”

A flash of purple caught their attention.

Jack’s eyes snapped to the hallway just in time to see you slip from your room—glittering tights and a purple sparkle jumpsuit, unmistakable even in the dim hospital light. You moved quickly, your bare feet barely making a sound against the cold tile, as though you were trying to be unnoticed, trying to outrun something—or maybe trying to find something.

John caught the movement too, his gaze following you down the hall. “I bet she’s headed to the roof,” he muttered, voice low, tinged with understanding.

Jack’s eyes stayed fixed on you, his jaw tightening.

Jack didn’t respond immediately. His jaw tightened as he watched you slip through the door at the end of the hall, already heading for the stairs.

John frowned, glancing at Jack. “You think she’s gonna be alright up there?”

Jack didn’t answer immediately. He just stared after you, his mind racing. There was something about the way you moved—like you were running, but didn’t know where you were running to. It made something shift in him.

“People like her… people like us, sometimes,” Jack began, his voice quieter, “they forget they don’t always have to do it alone. That there are moments where it’s okay to stop pretending.”

John didn’t push, but there was a silent understanding between them.

Jack was already moving toward the stairwell, his steps purposeful now. "I’ll check on her."

Jack follows your path, climbing up several flights of stairs to get to the roof

When he finally reached the rooftop, the door creaked open softly, the cool night air greeting him as he stepped out onto the open space. His eyes immediately found you on the other side of the railing, standing still, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself like you were trying to hold together everything that felt like it might break.

You were staring out into the distance, as if the city lights could somehow offer you the answers you were looking for. 

___

“Hey,” he says, his voice low but steady.

You let out yelp, startled by the sudden voice. You hadn’t expected anyone else up here. Your hands instinctively grab the railing behind you, gripping it tightly for support. There was still a sliver of space between you and the edge, but your heart was already racing.

 “Whoa, whoa—careful now,” says quickly, a hoodie draped over his arm. His hands rise in a calming gesture, fanning out as if to steady you.

You glance over your shoulder, blinking in disbelief. It’s him—the man you locked eyes with earlier across the chaos. Tall, calm, dressed in black scrubs that cling to his frame like a shadow. His salt-and-pepper curls are tousled just enough to soften the sharpness of the stubble along his jaw.

“I’m Doctor Abbot,” he continues, stepping closer but keeping his distance. 

“I didn’t come up here to jump—” you say defensively. 

“I’ve heard that one before.”

“No, really—I’m serious. I just—” You hesitated, your eyes drifting away.

It wasn’t a total lie. The thought had crossed your mind once or twice before—on different nights, in different places—This wasn’t that.

You just needed space. A moment to think, to breathe. 

“Hey…” he says softly. “I get it. I head up here to get away from everything down there.”

He nods toward where you’re standing. “That spot? It’s usually mine.”

You glance at him, surprised.

“I’ve seen enough chaos for ten lifetimes,” he adds with a faint smile. “Up here’s the only place where no one’s life is on the line or yelling at me.” His voice carries a dry edge—half joke, half truth.

He steps closer to the railing.

“Do you mind?” he asks, gesturing to the space beside you, silently asking for permission.

You give him a quick glance, and he understands—it’s okay. He ducks under the railing and steps up beside you, settling in quietly.

He lowers himself to the ground, knees drawn to his chest, arms resting loosely on top. His back leans against the railing with a quiet familiarity. After a moment, you follow suit, settling beside him, sitting cross-legged in the hush of the night.

A silence falls between us as we look at the city skyline. 

“I come up here when I need to feel like a person again. Not a doctor. Not the guy who’s supposed to keep it all together. Just… me.”

He lets out a slow breath. “There are nights—some harder than others—where the thought crosses my mind. Of just… stepping off. Letting go.” 

He pauses “But something always stops me. Reminds me why I stay.”

He glances at you, voice quieter now.

“It’s the need to help people. To connect. Even when it’s messy… even when it hurts. It’s what keeps me tethered. It’s what drives me. It’s in my DNA”

Jack hadn’t shared that part of himself because he was looking for comfort. He shared it because he saw something in you—something he couldn’t ignore.

He couldn’t shake the look in your eyes from earlier, when they wheeled you in. That numb, exhausted sadness. The silent plea buried deep in your gaze. A quiet scream for someone—anyone—to really see you.

You were young—early twenties, maybe. A pop star. To the world, you probably seemed untouchable. Perfect. Living the kind of life most people only dream of.

But up close, all Jack saw was someone unraveling. Someone barely holding on. And he’d seen enough to know that pain doesn’t care who you are, how famous you are, or how bright the spotlight is.

And he couldn’t imagine what it must be like.

To be seen by the eyes of everyone… but never really seen.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… this is where I come to stop pretending. So… no pretending. You don’t need to be anything up here, okay? I see you.”

My head snaps up at his words. “W-what?” your eyes widened, caught off guard.

“I said… I see you,” he repeats, voice steady, eyes locked on mine with quiet intensity.

Something in you breaks. Your lips start to tremble, and then the tears come—uncontrollable, unstoppable. You start to sob, the weight of everything finally cracking open.

This man—this stranger—was the first person to really look past the surface. To notice the pain you’d been drowning in. To see you, not the version of you the world demands.

And in that moment, you realize how long you’ve been waiting for someone to do exactly that.

Without a word, he takes the hoodie he’s been holding and gently drapes it over your bare shoulders, shielding you from the cool night air. The fabric is warm, worn, and smells faintly of him—clean soap and something grounding.

You lean into his side, drawn by a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

He hesitates for a moment, unsure, then instinct takes over. His arm wraps around you, slow and careful, like he doesn’t want to startle you. His hand begins to rub your arm—slow, steady circles. Not to fix anything. Just to let me know you're not alone.

The sobs come in waves—raw, jagged, leaving your chest aching and my throat tight. I try to stifle them, to keep it quiet, but he doesn’t flinch. He just stays beside me, steady and still, his hand never leaving my arm.

Eventually, it passes. Not completely, but enough for you to breathe again. Your chest still hiccups with the occasional shuttered breath, 

“I—I don’t even know where to start,” You whisper, voice hoarse from crying. “I just… I’m so exhausted.”

He says nothing, but his presence says I’m here. Take your time.

“Everything happened so fast—my career, all of it. It’s like I’m on this train, expecting stops along the way… but it just keeps speeding past every one of them. No breaks. No time to breathe.”

You pause, trying to find the right words through the tightness in my chest.

“And then there’s the pressure. The expectations. People depend on me—my fans, my team, the crew, the label... all of them. I’m supposed to be the one who holds it all together.”

Your voice wavers. “But inside, I’ve been unraveling. It’s like I’m screaming, and no one hears it. Or worse—they hear it and just… don’t care.”

You glance up at him, tears clinging to my lashes, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I have everything I thought I wanted. Everything I dreamed of since I was a little girl. And I still feel empty. So lonely. Like I’m surrounded by people… but completely alone in all of it. My voice cracks on the last words. I look away, ashamed.

Jack doesn’t speak right away.

He just watches you, eyes full of something that feels a lot like understanding. His arm is still around you, steady and warm. And when he finally speaks, his voice is low. Gentle.

“I know that feeling,” he says. “Being surrounded… and still feeling like you’re the only one in the room who’s not okay.”

He exhales slowly, like the weight of my words hit something deep in him too.

“You’re not broken. You’re human. And humans aren’t built to carry everything alone—no matter how strong the world expects us to be.”

He shifts slightly so he can face me more fully, his hand still resting on my arm, grounding me.

“You’re allowed to feel lost. You’re allowed to not have it all together. And just because people look up to you doesn’t mean you owe them everything. You still deserve to be a person. To rest. To be seen.”

He pauses, taking a breath, then adds softly, “Your job is demanding, I get that. But sometimes, you have to do what’s best for you. Put yourself first, even if it means letting others down in the process. You have to take care of yourself. You have to. Don’t be afraid to ask for help when you need it, either. Because if you don’t, you’ll find yourself on a path that’s hard to get off of.”

Thank you, Doctor Abbot.”

“Jack,” he corrects gently. “My name’s Jack.”

“Jack,” you repeat with a small smile, then introduce yourself.

He chuckles. “You know… I’m really aging myself here, but I only found out who you were a couple hours ago.” Trying to lighten the mood. 

You laugh. “Honestly? That’s kind of refreshing.”

“I don’t really keep up with pop culture,” he admits. “Dr. Shen was the one singing your earlier in our shift—what was it? Hands?”

“Oh god…” you groan, burying your face in your hands. That song was definitely suggestive. Of all the songs…

Jack grins. “What was it—‘Oh skin to skin, your touch feels like a sin… I want you, can’t you see, I need your hands all over me’?” He stumbles through the lyrics, trying to recall them.

“No, no, please don’t sing it!” you laugh, half mortified, half amused.

Jack arches a brow, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Why not? It’s catchy?”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “Don’t encourage it.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, nudging your shoulder lightly. “It’s stuck in my head now.” 

“Why don’t you sing it?” 

You lift your head, eyes narrowing in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

Jack leans back against the railing, feigning innocence. “What? Fair’s fair. I butchered it—might as well hear it from the professional.”

You stare at him, mouth open. “You want me to sing that song? Right now?”

He shrugs with a teasing glint in his eye. “You’re the one who wrote it. Own it.”

You groan again, dramatically flopping your head back. “Absolutely not.” 

He arches a brow, clearly amused. “Why because it’s…?”

You shoot him a glare, cheeks burning. “You know why.”

Jack smirks. “Nope. Enlighten me.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands for a second before peeking at him through your fingers. “Because that song is suggestive, okay? And I’m not gonna put on a whole performance for the guy I just met while sitting on the edge of a hospital rooftop.”

He grins, utterly unbothered by your embarrassment. “I mean, you might as well—you’ve got the outfit, so you’re halfway there.”

Jack shrugs, his expression playful. “It’s not every day I get to share a rooftop with a pop star. Kind of a once-in-a-lifetime moment, don’t you think?”

You come back quickly. You cross your arms, giving him a teasing look. “But hey, if you’re lucky, I might just give you a private concert… somewhere a little less public.”

You freeze for a heartbeat, flustered, but the moment passes just as quickly as it came. Jack looks out over the city again, that easy smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth.

His brows rise, amused, but he doesn’t say anything right away—just lets the silence stretch for a beat too long before offering a slow, teasing smile.

“Oh really?” he says lightly, head tilting. “Didn’t realize I’d stumbled into the VIP experience.”

Your eyes widen. “Wait—I didn’t mean it like that, I—” You groan, running a hand through your hair. “That came out so wrong. I swear I’m not flirting.”

Oh, but you were.

And so was he.

Somehow, without meaning to, the two of you had tangled yourselves into this strange, electric mess. One minute you were unpacking the weight of everything you’d buried inside, the next, you were tossing playful banter back and forth like it was the most natural thing in the world. Somewhere between the quiet confessions and the shared silence, something shifted. Neither of you planned for it, neither of you were sure what to call it—but whatever this was, it felt real. Unexpected, but real.

Jack knew this was unprofessional—wildly unprofessional. He knew better. He should have known better. She was a patient—vulnerable, barely holding herself together just hours ago and years younger. The kind of line he’d never imagined crossing. Every rule in the book told him to step back, to keep the boundary clear and intact.

He told himself it was harmless. Just words, just a moment. He told himself it was just a moment. Just a conversation. But even he knew that was a lie. Jack knew it was more. This wasn’t about flirting. It was about connection—messy, imperfect, unexpected connection—and despite everything telling him to walk away, he couldn’t bring himself to.

Not yet. 

Jack chuckles, clearly enjoying every second of your flustered state.

“Oh great—now you’ve seen me at my absolute worst and my most embarrassing.”

You groan, pressing your palms to your face. “I swear, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh, I know what you meant,” he says with mock seriousness, nodding slowly. “A pop star tries to seduce a jaded ER doctor with a rooftop concert. Very scandalous. Very tabloid-friendly.”

You peek at him through your fingers, trying not to laugh. “Stop.”

You shake your head, laughing despite yourself. “This is humiliating.”

“Come on,” he says, nudging your arm with a lopsided grin. “If anything, I should be flattered. First time I’ve ever flirted with a pop star on a rooftop.”

“I wasn’t flirting,” you insist, a little defensive.

“Keep telling yourself that,”

Silence falls between you two again. 

Jack looks at his watch. 1:13 am

“We should probably head back down,” Jack says, standing up and using the railing to steady himself. 

“Right…”He ducks under the bars, making his way back to the safe side.

You follow suit, and he extends his hand toward you, offering support as you step back over to the safer side. You take his hand, steadying yourself as you make the move.

___

None of you speak as you head back down to the main floor of the ER. The silence hangs between you as Jack walks you back to your exam room, his footsteps steady and measured.

Once inside, Jack’s gaze softens, his expression shifting to something more serious. “The tests came back, and it’s clear you’re dealing with extreme fatigue and exhaustion,” he says, his voice calm but insistent. “Your body’s been running on empty for too long, and it’s starting to take its toll.”

He pauses for a moment, letting his words settle before continuing. “I’m recommending that you take some time off, but I also think it’s crucial that you talk to someone—a therapist. You’ve been through a lot, and it’s important to get the support you need to process everything properly.”

Jack looks at you with genuine concern. “We’ll discharge you soon, but I want to make sure your team knows what’s going on. I’ll have a word with them so they understand the need for you to take a step back for a while. You need the time to focus on yourself and heal.”

He pauses again, reaching into his pocket. “I’m also going to write down some resources for you—therapists and support groups, people who can help you through this. I want you to have everything you need to get better, okay?”

“Thank you,” you say quietly, feeling the weight of everything finally starting to settle.

Jack gives you a small nod, his expression softening. “The nurse will come back soon to hook you up to an IV to rehydrate. Rest as much as you can.” He pauses for a moment before adding, 

“I’ll come in a check up you soon”

With a final glance, he turns and leaves, the door clicking softly behind him. The room feels quieter now, but in a way, the silence feels less heavy—like a small sense of relief has finally started to creep in.

___

6:30am Day shift would be coming soon to relieve the night shift. 

You’d stayed in the ER throughout the night. Your team stayed with you too—quiet, worried, but present. When you woke up, you finally opened up to your manager. You told him everything—how you’d been feeling, how long it had been building, how it all finally broke.

He listened. Really listened.

And when you were done, he looked at you—genuinely shaken. “I had no idea you were carrying all that,” he said, his voice low with guilt. “I’m so sorry. You should’ve never felt like you had to keep this to yourself.”

He reassured you that things would change. That they’d meet with the label, reevaluate everything. “If we have to cancel the rest of the tour, so be it,” he said firmly. “You—your well-being—that’s what matters now. Nothing else is more important.”

___

“Alright you’re all set” Doctor Shen says, officially releasing you from the hospital. 

I was still in my stage outfit, my boots in hand, and wearing Jack’s hoodie.

“Thanks, Doctor Shen,” you say, grateful as you start to turn.

“Wait!” he calls after you, stopping you in your tracks. “Before you go, do you think I could get your autograph?”

You pause, surprised, then smile. “Yeah, of course,” you say, walking back over with a light laugh. It’s a small, sweet moment, something you didn’t expect, but somehow felt right—maybe even grounding in its own way. You take a moment to sign, your pen moving across the paper as you look up at him with a warm smile.

“Thanks for everything,” you add, handing it back to him.

You see Jack, approaching. 

“Would you like an autograph too?” I joke 

“Wow I really downgraded there. What happened to my VIP Experience? My private show?”

“You’re still on about that?” 

Jack laughs, shaking his head. “I’m just saying, I had big expectations for this VIP experience. Autographs? Really?” He sighs dramatically, pretending to be disappointed.

“Raincheck on the VIP experience?”

He nods, chuckling softly. “Alright, I’ll hold you to it” 

“So…what are your plans now?” He asks. 

You glance behind your shoulder, catching sight of Mac pacing on the phone, waiting for you by the automatic doors of the ambulance bay. “Uh, headed back home actually. Mac, my manager, is talking to the rest of the team and my label about me canceling the rest of the tour, taking care of my wellbeing,” you explain.

“That’s great to hear,” Jack says, his tone soft, genuine.

Silence falls between you two, an awkward pause that neither of you knows how to fill. You both understand, without saying it, that this is probably the first and last time you’d be seeing each other.

You shift your weight, unsure of what to say next, and Jack clears his throat, glancing down at the ground for a moment before meeting your eyes one last time. “Take care of yourself, alright?” he says, his voice sincere.

You give a small nod, managing a quiet, “You too.”

Jack steps back, his hands in his pockets, his expression still thoughtful. “I meant what I said earlier… about getting the help you need. It’s important.” His words hang in the air between you, as if he’s trying to convey something deeper, something he might not have the chance to say again.

You nod, the weight of the moment settling in. “I will,” you reply softly, feeling the weight of everything you’ve been through start to press against you again. 

You start to walk towards the automatic doors, the hallway stretching ahead, but you stop. You can still feel Jack’s eyes on me, pulling me back. You turn around, your feet moving almost without thinking, and walk back to him.

He looks up at you, confused by your sudden change, but before he can say anything, you drop your boots on the floor and fling your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. You hold him for a moment, feeling the warmth of his embrace, his hands finding your waist and wrapping his arms under his hoodie that you’re wearing.

“I didn’t think anyone could see me,” you murmur, your voice soft and vulnerable. “But somehow, you did. All these eyes on me, yet you’re the one who truly sees.” You hold him tighter. “Thank you… for seeing me. For truly seeing me.”

Before you pull away, you press a soft kiss to his cheek, a gentle gesture that lingers for just a second longer than expected. You let go, picking up your boots, and walk toward the automatic doors.

You take one last glance back, giving him a small wave, and for a fleeting moment, you catch his gaze. But then, you turn away, making your way out, leaving the hospital and the weight of everything behind you. I won't look back again.

___

Doctor Michael Robinavitch, 30 minutes early for his day’s shift, strolled beside Jack with a coffee cup in hand. He noticed the young woman in a shiny outfit, wearing Jack's hoodie. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to Jack's cheek before pulling away. Leaving the ER with her boots in hand. She shot Jack a final look, a wave and then disappeared out of the automatic doors.

Jack stood there, still in a bit of a daze. He hadn’t noticed Michael approaching. He could still feel the warmth of her kiss on his cheek, the feeling lingering far longer than it should have.

Michael finally broke the silence, glancing at Jack. “She took your hoodie.”

Jack blinked, coming back to himself, and then offered a small smile. “I know,” he said, his voice a little distant.

Michael raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well, guess that’s one way to make a lasting impression.”

Jack chuckled, a soft, almost wistful sound. He rubbed his cheek absently, still feeling the imprint of her kiss. “Yeah… guess so.”

Michael leaned against the counter, watching his friend with a knowing look. “You’re still thinking about it, huh?”

Jack met his gaze, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Maybe.”

A quiet moment passed between them. Jack knew, deep down, he’d probably never see her again. She was a pop star, and he was just another ER doctor. Their worlds were too different. But still, there was something about that moment—that made him hope he’d be wrong.

“I hope I do,” Jack muttered, almost to himself.

Michael looked at him, the playful edge gone from his voice. “Yeah. I can see that.”

Jack didn’t say anything else, his mind still caught up in the strange, fleeting connection. He wasn’t sure if it would ever turn into anything more, but for now, the memory of her was enough.

(another part??? let me know)

[maevawrites]

'forbidden love' . . . jack abbott

✦ disclaimer/warnings?: medical inaccuracies, age-gape but not clearly specified (yay age-gap april), oneshot, jack abbott x f!resident reader, fluff, possible grammar/spelling mistakes, probably more but i can't think of any atm

✦ word count: 865

he's the mentor.

you're the mentee.

he's had years of experience.

while you're a fourth year resident, still getting used to the way your name sounds when someone calls you "doctor."

he's severallll years older than you.

and it feels like you're just now getting a hang of adulthood, learning how to push through all the chaos.

dr. jack abbott—the war-hardened night shift attending. with sturdy hands, and broad shoulders, he runs the pitt with precision and calm, like nothing phases him. like he's already survived the worst of it, and everything else is just noise.

after working under him for two years, watching how he works through traumas with a sort of silent confidence and unwavering ease, you couldn't help but start feeling something towards him.

trouble, is what you told yourself.

liking jack abbott would only bring trouble.

logically, you knew better. it felt forbidden to even think about him in that way, considering the ethics. the power imbalance. the un-professionalism it'd bring. but your heart? it had a mind of its own. beating entirely too fast whenever he's helping you through a procedure you've never done before, or when he murmurs good work after you've poured everything into a trauma.

now, you're sitting at the nurses' station trying to finish up some notes from the case you had just wrapped up, when all you could hear was the thumping of your heart in your ears.

you'd just worked on a case with jack and to say you were flustered was an understatement. he had let you take the lead—something you had noticed he usually didn't do with other residents. as you spoke with the patient, jack stood alongside you, agreeing to everything you had to say, only speaking to back you up or add a final thought. on your way out, as you both were throwing your gloves away, he gave you a firm nod. "did great doc." your ears immediately felt hot at the compliment and all you could do was muster a "thank you" before practically bolting off to the nurses station.

and now here you were, at the nurses station, pretending to focus on charting, still buzzing from the three simple words he had said to you.

still in your head, you hadn't noticed dr. ellis slid next to you.

"what's got your head in the clouds, doc?" ellis teased.

"nothing. nothing at all." you tried to play off.

she smirked, clearly not buying it. "right.." and then after she paused, then leaned in just a little. "so you're gonna tell me that dr. abbott staring at you right now doesn't have you day-dreaming just a bit?"

following her graze, you look up, and see a pair of eyes set on yours.

dr. jack abbott stood in front of the trauma board, hands in his cargo pockets, with his chin slightly tilted back. the glow of the screen illuminating his features.

but he wasn't looking at it.

he was looking at you.

your eyes widen and without thinking you give him a small smile—shy, unnerved, before immediately looking back down. ellis, watching the whole thing play out in front of her, lets out a chuckle.

"girl, i know damn well." she snorted. "you don't know a damn thing," you snapped back "a damn thing." giving her a pointed look and she raises her hands in surrender. "if you say so." she says laughing under her breath, walking away to find another case to work on.

you shook your head, attempting to regain focus but before you could do anything, a warm presence was standing behind you.

"how's charting going?"

you knew the voice. low, gravelly voice that makes your brain short circuit. it belonged to jack.

you spin you chair a tad to get a better look at him. "uhm, charting is going well. pretty riveting stuff you if you ask me." you say in a dry, humorous tone, trying to mask the tremble in your voice. lord did this man have an effect on you.

"riveting, huh?" he says with a crooked smile. arms crossed over his chest, causing his biceps to flex and fill up the sleeves of his scrubs.

you try not to ogle at him, maintaining eye contact the best you can. "i just wanted to come over and say again how you did really well in that case." his voice was lower, somehow warmer. "you stayed focused, worked efficiently, and took the lead." woah, does this man ever stop with the compliments? "oh—thank dr. abbott. couldn't have done it without a great teacher like you." you say sweetly. you really meant it. jack abbott was a damn good teacher and was someone you constantly looked up to in the emergency room. someone you wholeheartedly trusted.

he gave you a final, reassuring nod and then patted your forearm, giving you a quick wink before walking away.

you turned your chair back to your notes and slid down in your chair immediately. if it was even possible right then, you'd melt away.

your heart was beating faster than even and all you could think to yourself was:

yeah, we're in big trouble.

✦ maeva's thoughts: heyoooo!! i know i've been MIA but i hope this post makes it up to y'all. school has been whooping my ahh but i'm just trying to remind myself i have 5 weeks left and then i'm free from the shackles. i'm utterly obsessed with the pitt and dr. abbott. been on that since the couple scenes we saw of him in ep 1. also thought this song was prettyyy fitting for this piece.

i've been playing around with the theme of my blog and i honestly think it's pretty dope but y'all lmk what you think.

the gif is not mine!!

[millers-girl]

fallout

interconnected standalone/sequel-ish to bitter/sweet - a Dr. Jack Abbot (The Pitt) fanfic

pairing: Jack Abbot x f!reader

summary: you and your sister plan to spend the day at Pitt Fest but instead spend the night in the hospital, and Jack is left to pick up the pieces.

warnings/tags: mentions of an active shooter, gun violence, ptsd/trauma response, grief and loss, implied survivor's guilt, slow burn, hurt/comfort, grumpy x sunshine, food as a love language, age gap, mild language

word count: 5.1k

a/n: oops accidentally made this love story my entire personality

Jack rushed through the sliding doors of the ED, the familiar, sharp scent of antiseptic welcoming him back. His eyes were locked onto his phone screen, thumb twitching over the messages he’d already sent.

As soon as he’d heard it on the police scanner––“Active shooter at Pitt Fest. At least two confirmed dead. Unclear how many injured”––a sick, crawling fear had taken hold of him. It was an unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling, and one he couldn’t wait to get rid of. 

He’d been trying to get a hold of you. Calling. Texting. Over and over.

Where are you?

Are you okay? 

Please answer.

I’m in the ED. Come straight here if you can.

He forced himself to pocket his phone when Robby started rattling off the hospital’s mass casualty protocol to the group, but he made sure to leave the ringer on – just in case.

When the first wave of patients came in, it was like muscle memory took over. Like he’d slipped back in time, to when he was stationed in Afghanistan, boots hitting blood-streaked dirt.

Assess injury. Slap a colored band on. Treat until stable. Repeat.

A girl, maybe sixteen, sobbed as he wrapped gauze around her bloodied thigh. Her hands were shaking.

A man in his forties was wheeled in, gray from blood loss, gasping.

He sutured a gaping wound left by a gunshot on another boy’s arm. 

He couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t let himself stop.

Somewhere, beneath the routine and urgency, he was antsy, just waiting for you to walk through those doors. 

And then – you did. 

When you were gurneyed through the entrance, the fluorescent lights that usually hummed quietly in the background now felt blinding. Each flicker seemed to stab into your corneas. Your ears rang, your hands trembled, and for a second, it was all white noise. You barely registered Dr. King’s voice asking you questions, her hands checking your vitals.

You weren’t looking at her. You were scanning the frenzied room. 

And then your gaze caught his.

Even amidst the chaos––screams, alarms, blood––his eyes found yours. Jack stopped mid-step near the nurse’s station, the world narrowing for him in an instant. The clinical buzz of the ED faded. He beelined toward you like gravity itself had shifted.

“Jesus Christ, you fucking scared me.” 

His voice was sharp, but familiar – comfort laced with adrenaline. He shouldered Dr. King aside and immediately began assessing you himself. You tried to push his hands away, your injury the last thing on your mind. His hands swatted yours back, frustration flaring into the way his brow furrowed. 

“Jack,” you whispered past trembling lips. He froze, and when his eyes met yours again, they softened. You reached for him without thinking, shaking arms curling around his neck, clinging.

And he didn’t hesitate. Didn’t care who was watching. He wrapped you up, hand cradling the back of your neck, and let out a deep sigh.

You weren’t sure what kind of fight-or-flight response you had that knew being held—feeling safe—would be exactly what you needed then, but you were glad for it. 

“Are you okay?” he murmured into your matted hair, voice tight with restrained panic.

You nodded against his skin, though the movement was hesitant, slow. 

“I’ve been trying to reach you. Why didn’t you answer?” 

“My phone got knocked out of my hand in all the chaos. I didn’t even realize…”

You leaned back, and found worry still clouding his features. You released him enough to let him do his job, finally letting him examine you.

His touch was careful, but you felt how tightly he was wound – how his hands lingered too long on your skin; how he exhaled when he saw the swelling in your ankle. 

Dr. King stepped back in, clearing her throat. “How are you feeling?” 

“Kinda nauseous… dizzy. I don’t know, the lights are making it hard to concentrate,” you mumbled.

The two doctors shared a look. 

“Mild concussion,” Jack said, gently wrapping his fingers around your ankle and rotating it. You winced. “Sprained. Scrapes and bruises on knees, elbows, forearms.”

He slapped a yellow band on your wrist. 

“Ow, Jack,” you muttered, tugging your hand back. 

Any other time, he would’ve rolled his eyes and teased you – made a quip about how dramatic you were.

But not today. 

Today, his fingers immediately rubbed over the spot soothingly, and his voice was soft as he apologized.

When he reached to slip a patient tag onto your wrist, he glanced up again. “Where’s your sister?”

“She’s fine,” you said. “Just had a scraped arm, bruised ribs maybe. She went to help Emery in the OR.”

He exhaled quietly, then moved efficiently – pillows under your ankle, ice pack secured, orders rattled off to Dr. King. “Acetaminophen and Zofran in an IV bag. Don’t get it mixed up with ibuprofen – she’s allergic.” 

Dr. King brought the requested bags and kindly offered to hook you up to them, wanting to help in some way. Jack ignored her, still locked in his quiet rhythm as he began treating your wounds. Stopping the bleeding. Cleaning the cuts. Dressing them carefully. 

You stayed silent during the whole thing.

And it unnerved him.

Normally, you’d be rambling about something––telling a story, cracking a joke, flirting with him––to distract yourself. But now, you just watched him, eyes distant.

He didn’t push.

As he was finishing up, someone called out for him. “Abbot! Need you in the red zone!” 

“Coming!” he shouted back, eyes never leaving you until the very last second. “Hey,” he said softly, “I know it’s crazy in here right now, but try to get some rest, okay? I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “Wasn’t even near the shooter. Just got trampled in the crowd… Others had it worse.” Your gaze flicked to the burgundy splatters on his surgical gown.

Jack cut you a look. “Don’t do that,” he said firmly. “You still got hurt. That matters. And I’m gonna fix it. Okay?” 

You nodded, just to keep him from worrying more.

“And keep that ankle elevated,” he ordered. As he turned to leave, you caught his hand in yours.

“Can I borrow your phone? I need to call Eleni.”

He hesitated, then pulled the phone from his pocket. When you reached for it, he tugged it back. “One call, then you rest,” he bargained.

You nodded again, the device cool in your hand as he disappeared down the hall.

Dr. King smiled kindly before saying, “Okay, you should be good for now. I’ll come check up on you in a bit, too. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”

“Thanks.”

When she left, you dialed Eleni’s number. It only rang for half a second before she was picking up and frantically asking, “Hello?” 

“Hey, it’s me.”

Relief hit the other end of the line like a wave. You could practically hear her collapsing into relief before relaying the good news to the rest of the team. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, fine. Just a little knocked up.” 

She paused for a second, then said, “Knocked up? Wow, that Dr. Tall, Dark, and Broody sure works fast.” 

You huffed out a weak laugh. It felt forced. Hollow.

Eleni meant well. That was her way of checking if you were really okay. So, for her sake, you tried.

“Can you do me a favor?” you asked, looking around the chaotic room.

“Anything.” 

“Get the team to make some food for the ED. For the survivors, their families. Staff. Anyone who needs it.” 

“Yeah, that’s a really good idea. How much do you need?” 

“Everything we’ve got.” 

A beat of silence. “Everything…? Is it that bad?” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. 

She didn’t hesitate. “We’ll get started right now.” 

You thanked her, hung up, and slowly slid further down the gurney, resting Jack’s phone against your cheek like a comfort blanket. It was nice to have a piece of him with you. 

You didn’t mean to fall asleep. But somehow, your body finally gave out. And, when you woke again, it was to Dr. Mohan’s voice ringing out from a few feet away. “Need help with an airway!” 

Your bleary gaze tried to focus, mind swimming through fog as Jack and Robby rushed to help her. 

“GSW to the neck with expanding hematoma and distorted anatomy. Can’t intubate him – probably hit the carotid,” she explained.

You blinked heavily, watching Jack attend to the bleeding and shout out orders in that commanding voice of his.

But it was the needle taped to his arm, feeding a blood bag wrapped around his ankle, that really caught your attention. Without lifting your head, your sleepy eyes shifted to it. 

“Are you donating?” Dr. Mohan asked. 

“O-neg, yeah.” As if he could feel your eyes on him, he glanced your way, one of his eyes dropping in a wink. “Thought I’d be more useful as a two-for-one today.”

“Show off,” you muttered weakly, rolling your eyes. 

He grinned, eyes focused on the patient before him as he put a Foley in. As he was working, he called to Perlah, asking her to get you a juice box when she got a chance. 

“Can you make sure it’s not apple?” he asked after her. “She hates apple.”  

Despite everything, you felt a warmth blooming in your chest at that.

When Perlah brought you a juice box––fruit punch––you sipped it quietly, eyes on the trauma around you. The blood. The screams. The ones who were being saved – and the ones who weren’t.

Jack returned after stabilizing his GSW patient. He didn’t say anything at first, just placed a warm hand on your forehead, thumb brushing lightly at your hairline. 

“You want some more juice?” You shook your head. “But you’re good?” 

You force a nod. “Yeah. Just tired.” 

He didn’t believe you, but he didn’t force the truth out of you either. Just made sure to watch you more closely as he continued working around you.

Sometime later, Eleni arrived – along with half the staff from Francesca. They came bearing trays of food: warm bread, hearty pastas, fruit, rice dishes, sandwiches, coffee, cookies.

The smell alone grounded people. Nurses grabbed bites between patients. Survivors’ families cried when offered plates. Even doctors paused to say thank you.

You watched it all from your bed, barely speaking – your throat tightened. 

Santos, who stood beside Jack, asked, “Is that the black cod from Francesca?” she asked, oblivious. 

Jack’s eyes flicked to the food in the familiar light pink bags, then to you.

It wasn’t the fact that you’d gotten food for the entire floor that caught his attention – it was why you’d even thought to do it. Even banged up, bruised, barely functioning – you’d wanted to look after everyone else.

He looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time, with new eyes. Like maybe, despite your young age and optimism when it came to seeing the best in people, Jack could still learn a thing or two from you. And maybe that was what he admired most. 

When he managed to find a minute to be back at your bedside, he didn’t say anything. Just offered you the food on his plate, making sure he saved you that sandwich you raved about so much. 

He sat beside you, in quiet solidarity. And, for a moment, in the middle of one of the worst days either of you had lived through, something in the chaos finally felt still.

When Jack left again to attend to more patients, the chaos didn’t remain still. Instead, it slowed – in the worst way.

You finally stopped moving. Stopped reacting. And, just, took it all in.

The crying, the gurgled pain, the rushed footsteps, the overheard codes being called. You can see every little thing – the crimson on someone’s shirt, the way a nurse’s gloved hands shook, the metallic scent in the air. 

Someone shouting for gauze. Another for a crash cart. A kid screaming down the corridor, clutching his broken arm, blood smeared along his cheek. 

And it was all muffled, happening in slow motion. Dull in your senses, leaving only an ache. In your bones. In your ribs. Behind your eyes. 

And then you saw them.

Robby was towering over a gurney, hands pressed tightly to a teenage girl’s chest – desperate, shaking. Her bra was soaked through. A pool of maroon darkened the sheets she was lying on.

She was already still. Limp.

And a teenage boy was sobbing her name. Leah. 

You vaguely remembered his face – Jake, Robby’s sort-of adopted son.

He’s just a teenager… meaning Leah is too.

Was too.

You silently watched Jack touch Robby’s shoulder once, gently, but Robby shrugged it off. Muttered something over and over. Continued with chest compressions everyone knew wouldn’t help.

You could see it in the eyes of the practitioners around him. In the way they hesitated before trying to help. In how nobody called to see if an OR was open. Still, they didn’t want to pull him off her. Not yet.

And something about the quiet truth of that moment sliced deep through your gut.

Before you could process it, you were pulling the IVs from your arm and sliding off the gurney. Your knees buckled for half a second, and your sprained ankle throbbed, but you forced yourself upright. Moved down the hall. Didn’t realize where you were going until your hand was on the bathroom door, pushing it open and locking it behind you.

The silence inside felt oddly louder than the overwhelming med bay.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, not recognizing the reflection. Skin smudged with soot and scarlet blood, small cuts along your hairline, a big bruise where you’d fallen and hit your jaw.

You turned the tap on, splashing ice cold water on your face. It did nothing.

The tears came suddenly and in volume, blurring your vision, and causing you to sink. Down to the floor, knees against your chest, arms hugging.

You dropped your head, trying to focus on the sterile scent of disinfectant as it stung your nose. But all you could see was blood. The stillness. The way Robby cradled Leah’s lifeless body like she might wake up at any moment.

You didn’t know how long you sat there like that. Ten minutes, two hours – time had gone strangely elastic.

A knock sounded once. Then, a key card swipe.

You flinched as the door eased open and Jack stepped inside, gait soft-footed. His brows pulled together when he saw you there, folded into yourself. 

He didn’t say anything at first. Just closed the door gently behind him and sat down beside you, back resting against the wall. His outstretched knee brushed your good ankle. 

You could tell he was itching to say something, to get you out of this funk. But you didn’t speak until you were ready, and he respected that. 

A long time passed before you looked up at him, and your chest cracked wide open.

“How come nothing happened to me?” you asked quietly.

“What are you talking about?” 

“That kid – Robbie’s kid – his girlfriend, she…” you trailed off. Shook your head. “And I… I’m here, right? I’m breathing, and I’m good, and I’m gonna have some really badass scars and a hell of a story – ”

The corners of Jack’s mouth lifted comfortingly. “Did I leave any scars when I sutured up your thumb?” You shook your head. “Then, what makes you think I’m gonna leave any behind for you to remember this by?” he tried, lightheartedly, almost teasing – but your face didn’t soften.

You were somewhere else entirely. A million miles away, eyes glassy and unfocused.

“I don’t want you to remember this forever,” he admitted, correcting himself. 

“I think I will,” you whispered. “Even if I don’t have any physical scars to remind me.” 

Jack looked at you for a long time. Then, slowly, he pulled you into his lap, pressing you gently into his chest. You didn’t resist. Just leaned in. Let yourself fold into him like you had no bones left. 

He felt safe, even if the world didn’t anymore.

His chin rested lightly on top of your head, and his voice came low, almost gravelly. 

“Sometimes surviving feels heavier than dying,” he said. “But you’re here, and that counts for something. Even if you don’t know what yet.” 

You closed your eyes, let the silence swell between you, thick and full and terrible. His heart beat steadily against your cheek, and yours slowly synched to his. 

For the first time all day, you let yourself breathe without holding back the sob. 

When your breathing eventually evens out again, your sobs subside into hiccups, but Jack still doesn’t move. Not until your fingers unclenched from the fabric of his scrubs and you shifted slightly in his arms, blinking up at him through lashes sticky with salt.

“Let’s get you back, huh?” he murmured, thumb brushing gently against your cheek, wiping away a tear. “Before King starts paging me panicking because she lost you.” 

At that, a genuine single laugh escapes past your lips. 

You nodded, letting him help you stand, steadying you with one hand at your elbow while the other rested at your waist. 

You weren’t shaking anymore, but your body felt like it had been wrung out, nothing left but raw emotion and a dull, aching tiredness. 

Back in the med bay, the gurney felt too open, but you climbed back into it anyway. Jack hooked your IV back in, checked the monitor, adjusted the pillows under your ankle and tucked you in, grabbing extra blankets because he knew how cold you got here.

Every time he passed when moving from patient to patient, he paused. Asked you if you wanted something more to eat, another dose of pain meds, or the chance to change into a fresh set of clothes.

He led you to a new bathroom, helping you change out of your bloody top and jean shorts. As he pulled the hole of an extra t-shirt he kept in his locker over your head, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to your forehead, without ever saying a word.

Back in the gurney bed, now in his t-shirt and sweatpants, you felt a little calmer. By now, all the food from Francesca was gone, but he offered you a half-eaten granola bar from his scrub jacket pocket when your stomach growled loudly.

And each time he left the absence of him left behind a cold draft against your skin.

The night dragged on. The chaos outside finally slowed, like a storm passing. Wounds were closed, departments and rooms assigned. The steady beeping of monitors became the background noise of recovery, not disaster.

It was sometime past midnight when Taylor led you into an assigned room not far from the nurse’s station. When you were settled into the room––overhead lights dimmed just how you liked it and a cup of cold water at your bedside––you caught sight of Jack outside your door. 

He talked quietly to another nurse for a few minutes, then handed over a clipboard he held before making his way into your room, checking your progress.

“Are you busy right now?” you quietly asked.

He glanced down the hallway, then decided, “I got a minute to spare.” 

Yout throat felt dry, the words nearly catching a little as you spoke – even after everything you two had been through in the past few day. “Can you come lie down with me?”

Your voice sounded so small, how could he ever say no?

He blinked once, then shut the door behind him.

The bed was barely wide enough for one person, but he made it work. Shrugged off his stethoscope and climbed up carefully. His body curled beside yours, both of you on your sides, facing each other in the dim glow. He tucked one arm under your head, the other hooking around your waist to pull you closer. 

You let out a deep exhale, murmuring against his skin, “Pretty sure there’s a HIPAA violation about doctor-patient contact somewhere here.” 

Your voice wasn’t light. You didn’t smile.

But the joke still landed.

“Oh, my God,” he groaned, eyes rolling before they settled back on you. The hand on your waist rose to cup your cheek. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” he whispered, before his lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss that reassured you you were going to be okay.

The silence that followed when you pulled away was full of the words neither of you had to say out loud. His hand found yours under the blanket, your fingers tangling naturally.

And, for a little while, the horrors of the day faded into something softer.

The first days back home after the shooting felt different. 

Your bedroom felt smaller, like the walls were closing in. But, it also felt comfortable, familiar. Nothing bad had ever happened here, and nothing bad ever would. 

Jack drove you home that first day. He didn’t say much, didn’t need to. He just kept a steady hand on the steering wheel and his gaze flicked over to you every few minutes. He ended up staying until his next shift, never leaving your side unless he had to.

You trailed him around the house like a shadow – when he brewed tea for you, made you breakfast, shifted through his backpack by the door. You weren’t even sure what you were so afraid of, only that when he was near, it all felt quieter. Bearable.

An hour into being back home, the two of you had settled into the couch with some show playing low in the background. You didn’t remember what it was, only the way Jack’s eyes started to flutter closed. He fought sleep longer than he should’ve.

You tugged gently at his hand, coaxing him into your room. He didn’t protest, just let you lead him, half-asleep. His body sunk into the bed, melting into sheets that smelled like you.

You couldn’t sleep – couldn’t really calm your mind when your ears were suddenly so sensitive to the noises around. Dogs barking. The garbage truck coming to pick up the recycling. A car backfiring.

Each one pulled your body taut with unease.

Instead, you watched Jack sleep. He looked so peaceful, long eyelashes brushing against soft skin. His forehead wasn’t crinkled in worry for once, even though you could tell he was running on empty this last shift. 

You reached out to gently run your fingers through his hair and it made him sleepily shift toward you on the bed, his head nuzzling into the crook of your neck. The warmth made your chest ache.

When his alarm went off, he began to stir but you tightened your hold on him. Not ready to let him leave or face a cold, desolate existence without him for the next 12 hours.

Eyes still shut, he gently teased, “Clingy much?” But the softness in his tone showed you he didn’t mind it one bit.

Not when your bare feet padded lightly right behind his as he walked into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, nor when he got in the shower and you followed in after. 

Afterward, wrapped in a towel, you avoided looking in the mirror. You didn’t need to. You could already feel the bruises blooming, their soreness serving as quiet reminders. You stared down at your arms, your collarbone, at the places where the pain still lingered, where the memories came to life – gunshots, screaming, smoke in the air. 

You flinched when Jack shut the bathroom door, the sound too loud, too sudden. He didn’t notice… or maybe he did and just didn’t say anything.

When he was packing his camo backpack for work, his movements froze for a second, hesitating. Then, wordlessly, he pulled out your bloodied clothes from Pitt Fest, folded in a ziploc bag. Before you could even process what he was doing, he’d quickly stuffed them into the laundry machine and ran a cycle.

After he had pulled his jacket on, he approached you while you were slowly picking at the sandwich he’d made you for supper. His hands gently cupped your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. 

“You gonna be okay tonight?” he asked softly. 

You nodded, though it felt like a lie. Still, he pulled you into a hug, pressing your head against his chest, and leaned down to kiss the top of your head. “Call me if you need anything. Or if you get bored and wanna get your ass kicked in chess.”

That coaxed a real laugh out of you, unexpected and bright. Before the shooting, you two had been engaged in a seriously competitive match over GamePigeon. Jack had accused you of cheating more than once. You missed that.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, patting his chest when you leaned back. “Might let you win this time. Keep that fragile ego intact.”

He smirked, leaning down to meet your eyes. “Be good today, okay?” 

“Yes, Dad,” you groaned with exaggerated disdain. The wording made his brows raise and sent a shiver down his body. 

“That and the age gap… you’re gonna give me a complex,” he groaned, watching the corners of your lips tug upwards before you reached up on the tips of your toes and wrapped your arms around him. 

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll forget all about it when you’re elbows deep, rearranging someone’s guts,” you easily teased, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Rather rearrange your guts,” he mumbled against your lips, cupping a hand behind your neck to deepen the kiss.

When you pulled back, you tilted your head. 

“What?” he asked. 

“I’m rubbing off on you.” 

He opened his mouth again, likely to make another suggestive remark about rubbing something else off on you, but you cupped a hand over it before he could. 

“Don’t you have lives to save?” you asked, gently shoving him out the door.

You knew the house wouldn’t be empty for long—Jack and your sister had alternated shifts so someone could always be with you—but you still missed him.

Only thirty minutes passed between Jack leaving and your sister coming home. But in those thirty minutes, the washer went off and you thought you could manage the simple task of transferring your clothes to the dryer. 

After all, they were just clothes. Just pieces of cotton and thread, no longer cakes in soot and blood. They were fresh as new. 

So why couldn’t you touch them? Why did you leave the washer door open and just stare into the tub where they sat, soaked? 

By the time your sister walked in, the clothes were long gone – dumped in the trash bin outside. It was the only thing you could bring yourself to do. 

You were curled up on the sofa when she found you, TV flickering across your face like nothing had happened. She didn’t ask. She just sat beside you, and that was enough.

That’s how the days passed. Evenings with your sister – watching TV, talking about what happened, processing. Mornings and afternoons with Jack, who brought over puzzles, crossword books, a physical chess set… even a spare toothbrush which now sat happily beside yours in the bathroom. It made your heart ache every time you saw it.

You slept a lot, but even when you were awake, you were tired. Even inside the comfort of your home, you were still hyper-aware of all the noises outside, and any large crowds that passed by, voices raised. 

Yet, somehow, those hazel eyes you’d grown to find comfort in had convinced you to step outside, start going on walks. Take in fresh air again.

It wasn’t easy – you barely made it around the block, nails digging into the back of Jack’s hand from how tightly you held it – but it was progress. 

In a week’s time, you even returned to the restaurant. You were ready to face the hustle and bustle of Francesca, ready to put your mind to work and focus on something positive for a change.

What you weren’t ready for was running into Jake by the entrance. 

“Hey,” he said softly, remembering you from Robby’s stories and also vaguely recalling seeing your face on that unspeakable day. 

“Hey,” you echoed, voice just as strained. “What are you doing here?” 

“Mom asked me to pick up dinner.” 

You nodded silently, sunsure what to say next. “How are you?” 

He shrugged. “You know…” 

You did know.

“My mom’s got me talking to a trauma specialist,” he said, not sure why he was telling you. “At the hospital.” 

“Yeah… Jack – Dr. Abbot – he’s been trying to convince me to go, too.” You hesitated. “Is it… helping?” 

Another shrug. “A little, I guess. But.. I don’t know – she wasn’t there. She doesn’t really get it.” 

You reached for a napkin on an unoccupied table, finding yourself scribbling your number down before offering it to him.

“You can call me… if you want. I get it.” 

He held the napkin between his fingers, staring at the numbers. Then, he tucked it into his pocket with a slow nod. “Thanks.” 

You couldn’t let him leave without saying the next words at the tip of your tongue. “Hey… I’m sorry about your girlfriend. She seemed… pretty. I’m sure she was – I’m sure she was really great.” You found a lump forming in your throat.

He paused a minute, then said quietly, “She was.” After a beat, he added, “You know, I told her about you once.” 

You were shocked to hear that. “What?” 

“I was telling her one of Robby’s stories, about the first time he ever came to visit this place, and he got to brag to the people at the next table about how he knew the head chef. And when they asked you how you came to be there, you said by – ” 

“ – by being brave,” you finished for him, feeling tears lining your vision. 

Jake nodded. Then, as if he knew you needed to hear it, he said, “Leah would want you to be brave now… about all of it.”

That stayed with you until the restaurant closed, and you drove home, and laid in your bed for the night, getting the first restful sleep – no nightmares – for the first time in a long time.

And when you woke, it was to Jack crawling into bed beside you, rays of sun filtering through the blinds and lighting up his face. 

His hand found yours under the covers, like it always did, comforting and warm – and you sighed in contentment.

“I wanna stay like this forever,” you mumbled against his skin. “Can we?” 

“Yeah, baby… as long as you want.”

.

.

.

read part 3 here !!

[meganwritesfanfics]

My Hero (Dr. Michael "Robby Robinavitch x Reader)

Word Count: 2381

Trigger Warnings: Talk of Mugging, talk of injuries and blood.

“Alright, that’s it for me.” Robby said. As he stood up her eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to him. 

“Beer for the Road?” Abbott asked. 

“Yeah, why not.” Robby replied as Donnie threw him another beer. “Goodnight,” He said to Dr. Mohan, “Get some rest,” He looked at Javadi. And then his eyes locked with Y/N’s. She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks. Her body always had an involuntary reaction when it came to Robby. “Tomorrow is another day.” 

Y/N waved as Robby walked off, her eyes trailing after him as he disappeared into the darkness of the park. 

“You should go after him. Lord knows he could use some stress relief tonight.” Abbott whispered. 

“Jack!” Y/N gasped as she smacked him hard in the arm. 

“What! You have been pining over Robby for years now, when are you going to make a move.” 

Jack had been Y/N’s best friend for as long as she had lived in Pittsburgh. They worked the nightshift together and they bonded quickly. When they were on shift together, it felt as though they could communicate telepathically. He always knew when she needed a break, and she would beat him to the roof after a patient loss hit him hard. So when she started covering some day shifts, and began to develop feelings for a certain Chief Attending, who just happened to be one of Jack’s closest friends he knew instantly. He also knew that Robby felt something similar. 

Dana and Jack had been trying to set them up for years, but everytime they broached the subjects both Y/N and Robby would have an excuse of why they wouldn’t never work as a couple. 

“I do not pine over him!” Y/N whispered, grateful that the rest of the group was preoccupied in their own conversation. 

“You were making puppy dog eyes at him Y/N.” Jack teased. “You two are impossible, it’s like watching a soap opera I swear to God.” 

“Oh and you and Dana’s matchmaking isn’t pulled straight from a 90’s teen drama.” Y/N snapped back as she started to gather up her items. 

“Well don’t storm off like a toddler.” 

“Oh don’t give yourself that much credit Dr. Abbott, you are not the reason I’m leaving. I am craving a shower, I feel disgusting.” Y/N laughed. 

“Do you want me to walk you home?” He asked as he started to put his prosthetic back on. 

“No, I’m totally fine. Plus didn’t you say you are coming back around 2. If you walk me back you won’t be able to get any sleep.” She reached out and pulled him into a hug. “Are you going to be ok?” 

“Yeah I’ll be fine. What a hell of a way to spend our day off huh.” He teased but she could see how tired his eyes were. 

“Try to get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said as she stood up waving goodbye to everyone. 

“Y/N.” Jack called as she started to walk away. “Do you still have that pepper spray I gave you.” 

Y/N laughed. “You are impossible Jack I swear to God. Yes I still have it. I will be fine.” 

“Ok well text me when you get home.” 

“Yes Dad!” She teased flipping him off as she started to walk home. 

Y/N’s walk to and from work were probably her favorite part of the day it gave her time to think and either decompress from a shift, or mentally prepare herself for a new one. She had just popped in one of her headphones when she felt something sharp at her back and a hand wrapped around her chest. 

“Give me your purse and phone.” The voice said her in ear. 

Y/N screamed both from surprise, and in hopes that someone was around to hear her. 

“You bitch!” He screamed as he put his hand over her mouth. However the minute he did that she took the opportunity to bite his hand. With this shock she also added a stomp to the guys foot and an elbow to the face. “Fuck!” The guy screamed as she started to run away. He lunged at her and she felt a sharp pain across her forearm. 

“Hey!” A voice called and both Y/N and the man froze. She recognized that voice. She would recognize that voice anywhere. “Get the fuck away from her!” Robby bellowed and the man only had to take a moment to take in the full six foot one figure before he bolted. 

“Micheal,” She sighed tears forming. Y/N barely had time to blink before Robby was in front of her his strong hands grabbing her arms looking her up and down checking for any life threatening injuries. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked his eyes filled with concern. 

Y/N held up her forearm her jacket sleeve already soaked with blood. “I think he had a knife.” 

“Jesus. Ok let’s get you back to the hospital we can…” He started his hand falling on the small of her back. 

“No, please.” Her plead came out more like a sob as the adrenaline of the ordeal started to wear off and the terror and fear she felt set in. “I don’t… I don’t want to go back to the hospital, not after everything that happened today. I just want to go home. I have a suture kit, I can patch myself back up.” 

“Isn’t that your dominate hand?” Robby said. 

“Fuck,” Y/N sighed and then she began to cry. 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” Robby soothed pulling her into his arms. “Listen I have a suture kit at my place to. We can head back there.” 

“No, it’s fine, really I don’t want to put you out.” 

“Y/N, I’m not going to leave you standing in a park bleeding. Now it’s either my place or we go back to the Pitt.” 

“Ok,” Y/N squeaked and as she pulled away from Robby’s embrace, she used her good hand to apply pressure to the injury. 

The whole walk to Robby’s apartment they walked in silence. His hand still hovered over the small of her back. All he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and never let her go. The sound of her scream still echoed in his head. He couldn’t help but think about what could have happened, if he hadn’t stopped. If he had just walked straight home. Robby shuttered at the thoguht as he led Y/N up the stairs and into his apartment. 

“This is me.” He said awkwardly opening the door. “Have a seat on the couch.” 

Y/N just nodded as she took in the scene before her. Robby’s apartment was exactly how she thought it would be. Sparse but what furniture and trinkets he did have clearly meant something to him. She could see the photos of Robby and Jake on the mantel. Another picture of a woman who Y/N thought was probably Robby’s grandmother. She couldn’t help but feel like she was seeing a private part of Robby that only a select group of people got to see. At this should couldn’t help but smile. 

“Let me see what we are working with here.” Robby said, as he pulled the coffee table up closer so he could sit in front of her. He watched as she winced in pain as she gingerly took her jacket off. Along the outside of her forearm was a nasty gash, nothing some quick stitches wouldn’t fix. But just seeing the pain she was in, made him think he should head back to that park and track the fucker down. “This is going to hurt.” He said and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Why Doctor Robby, I think we need to work on your bedside manner.” 

Robby couldn’t help but smile, her laugh was infectious. Whenever they worked on the same shift, which was rare, he went out of his way to try to hear that laugh. He could be having the worst day imaginable, and that laugh could brighten his whole attitude. 

“I think they honesty is the best medicine.” 

“The people who came up with that, have never been honest a day in their life.” Y/N winced as Robby started to sew her up. 

They stayed silent again for a while, before Y/N spoke again her eyes never leaving Robby. 

“How did you hear me in the park? I thought you were well enough ahead of me?” 

“I uh… I had stopped, found another bench and was just sitting, thinking. Trying to forget about everything that happened today.” He said finishing up the last stitch. 

With her good hand she brought it up to land on his bicep. “I’m so sorry Micheal. I know you tried so hard to save Leah. There was nothing you could have done.” 

Robby could feel the tears start to build up again as he looked at her. Her eyes were soft, even after everything she had seen that day, Robby could see it didn’t harden her. There was still hope and light behind her eyes, and that thought shattered him. 

“I should have…” He started his voice cracking. 

“Hey,” She snapped her hand now moving up to his cheek. “Don’t you dare do that. You have always told me that we can never play the woulda, shoulda, coulda game. It will drive you insane if you do. “You were everyones rock down there. We only lost 6 patients Micheal. Six out of over one hundred. Do you know how amazing that is? And I can promise you everyone down there will attribute that to you.” 

“But I wasn’t there for everyone, I broke, I had a breakdown Y/N.” 

“For what 40 seconds?” Y/N asked and Robby couldn’t help but smile as she mirrored the words Jack had said to him earlier. “After we had finally gotten everything calmed down, I vomited and then hid in the bathroom for 10 minutes. You are allowed to feel things Micheal, you are allowed to break. What maters isn’t that you broke, it’s that you got back up.” 

Robby stared at her, really taking her in, even after a full day of work, handling a mass shooting, and almost getting mugged, he still thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. 

“Can I kiss you.” Robby said and he watched as Y/N’s face turned a light shade of pink.

“I… uh…” She stumbled over her words.”Y…Yes.” She said and Robby slowly leaned in placing his lips on hers. 

It started off as a soft and sweet kiss, the two of them cautious seeing how it would go. But as they became more comfortable, it became more passionate, more desperate, needing to find connection with one another. After everything that happened they needed to forget about everything else around them, and get lost in one another. 

Robby’s hands found her waist as he pulled her slightly closer to her. 

“Y/N” He sighed as her fingers twisted into his hair. 

“Micheal, I need you.” Y/N whimpered. “Make me forget.” 

In an instant he pulled her fully into his lap, her legs wrapping around his waist, as he lifted her before laying her back down on the couch. 

They made out for a while their hands exploring one another, holding each other tightly. 

Suddenly Y/N felt something vibrate underneath her. 

“Oh shit,” She said as she pushed Robby back just slightly but the minute she did Robby instantly sat up, his eyes wide. 

“Are you ok? Was that too much?” He asked panicked.

Y/N smiled as she grabbed his hand. “No, not too much.” Quickly she pulled her phone out seeing that she had multiple texts and calls from Jack. “I forgot to text Jack, he probably thinks I’m dead. Do you care if I call him?” 

Robby laughed. “If you don’t he is probably going to end up showing up here.” 

She had barely pushed the call button before Jack picked up. 

“Are you ok, you didn’t answer any of my texts or calls.” He said in a full panic. 

“I’m so sorry I…” She contemplated not telling about the attack, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to hide it from him at work. “I almost got mugged.” 

“What!” Y/N had to hold the phone away from her ear with how loud Jack yelled. “Are you ok, I’m coming over.” 

“No, wait I’m not home, Robby was still in the park, he uh… he saved me.” 

There was silence for a moment, before Jack spoke again. “So you are at Robby’s place.” 

“Yes, and he is looking at me laughing because he can hear this whole conversation.” 

“Well I guess I will let you get back to it.” He laughed and Y/N could almost see his smug face. 

“You are the worst human.” Y/N sighed her face flushing pink again. 

“Be safe Y/N.” He teased as he hung up. 

“You know he is going to call Dana now.” Robby laughed. 

“We are never going to live this down. We will be the talk of the Pitt.” Y/N sighed but her face was still beaming with a smile. 

“Who says I care.” Robby said in almost a growl as he leaned forward kissing her again. As they broke apart, Robby held Y/N’s face in his hands. “Y/N I really like you, I have for a while.” 

“I like you too.” Y/N smiled. 

“Will you stay the night. I don’t want to be alone tonight.” He pleaded. 

Y/N pulled him in for another long kiss as she intertwined her fingers with his. “You took care of all of us today. Let me take care of you tonight.” She whispered in his ear. 

Instantly Robby was on his feet holding Y/N who was still wrapped around his waist as he started to make his way back to the bedroom.

“Micheal your back.” Y/N laughed kissing his neck. 

“Worth it.” He growled back as they disappeared into the bedroom, and they disappeared into each others embrace.

[storiesaplenty]

The Pitt Masterlist

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: swearing. Smut below the cut. Oral (m receiving) cum swallowing. Anal. Use of butt plug.

WC: 1011

Divider by @strangergraphics

©️ storiesaplenty 2025: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work. All readers are female, unless stated otherwise.

This part is Dr Robby, Dr Abbott, & Dr Langdon.

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch

My ponytail was wrapped tight in Dr Robby's fist as he held my head in place as he raised his hips back and forth. His other hand was closed in a fist, that was stuffed in his mouth to keep his moans down.

My hands were gripping his thighs as I let him use my mouth and throat for his pleasure, knowing how stressed he is.

The tip of his cock hit the back of my throat a bit too rough, and I gagged, making him throw his head back as he pulled himself completely out of my mouth.

I was gasping for air, knowing I wouldn't have much of a break before he thrust back into my mouth.

He placed both of his hands on the side of my head, forcing it back a bit further, as he looked down at me, and I must have been a sight. The little bit of eye makeup I wear, streaking down my face, the corners of my mouth coated in spit and precrum.

"Being so good for me, aren't you? Always know exactly what I need, don't you?" He thrust back into my mouth, with a loud groan.

His pace was brutal and not forgiving at all as he was so close to finishing.

With a grunt of my name, he stilled as the first rope of cum hit the back of my throat. His hips stuttered as he coated my throat.

I made sure to swallow it all, not wanting to miss a single drop of it.

I continued to suck, even after he was long done. Him trying to catch his breath.

Dr Robby helped me to my feet, kissing me, the two of us moaning at the taste of him on my lips.

"I promise to make it up to you at home." He mumbled against my lips.

"It's okay. I know how stressed you are but I will remind you later that you owe me."

Dr. Jack Abbott

I know Jack asked me a question, but I was too far gone to have heard him properly. Not with the way how his cock is just stretching me so perfectly.

I felt his hand on my throat, squeezing it just right as he pulled my body back, so my back is flushed against his chest.

He placed his mouth against my ear, nipping it before repeating himself.

"I said, what gives you the right to question me like that?" My whole body shivered at his tone. My pussy tightening around his cock.

Making him groan as he sped up his pace, if that was even possible.

"I'm sorry Jack. I didn't mean," I couldn't finish what I was saying, as he angled his hips just so, now prodding that spot inside of me that always makes me scream.

I had to cover my mouth, but Jack didn't like that. He moved my hand from my mouth.

"Gonna act like a brat on the floor. Let everyone here how I take care of your brattiness." I shook my head no, trying to stifle my moans as people were walking right outside this closet.

"Go on. Let them hear you. Let them hear you getting fucked by Dr Abbott."

The hand on my throat got a bit tighter and before I knew it, my whole body was shaking as came, my pussy clenching around his cock, forcing Jack to groan against my head.

He held himself back, fucking me through my orgasm until he couldn't hold back anymore.

He grunted my name as he stilled, his cock twitching in my pussy as he filled me.

My mouth hanging open as he came, triggering another small orgasm from me.

Jack pulled out of me, the two of us moaning at the loss of him inside of me.

"You good now Jack?" I asked him as I fixed myself up.

"Yeah, for now."

I rolled my eyes at my husband.

Dr. Frank Langdon

"Come on Frank, we don't have much time. Where?" I mumbled against his lips, as his hands squeezed my ass through my scrubs.

"You got the plug in?" He asked me as he pulled away, to look into my eyes. I nodded my head yes, as he text me this morning to put it in.

"Turn around." I knew what he wanted.

I pulled down my scrubs and my panties. I felt his hand rub against the heart shaped plug that I have in my hole.

I whined as he pulled the plug out, and placed it on the box next to him.

"Good thing you used plenty of lube." Frank said as he placed his cock at the entrance and slowly slid in.

I groaned as he slid inch by inch inside of me, this not being the first time we have done this.

"Gonna make it up tonight. Just let me fuck you." His hands tightened on my hips, so tight I will feel them for the rest of my shift.

"Use me Frank." I barely got out before he pulled back, leaving just the tip inside and slamming back into my ass.

He fucked me as hard and fast as he could. His pace never wavering as he fucked me like his life depends on it.

"Gonna be a good girl and let me cum in your ass huh? Work the rest of this horrible shift, knowing my cum is in your ass."

"Yes Frank, yes." I always felt dirty when we did this, but I also fucking love.

"Oh shit." He said a few moments later, just as I felt his cock twitch as he came.

"Yessss." He groaned, as he finished coming.

Frank pulled out of my well used hole, and spread my ass cheeks to watch his cum slowly leak out of my hole, before putting the plug back in, and pulling up my bottoms.

"I'll except you naked when I get home Dr Langdon." I teased.

"Will be. Don't you worry about that."

Part 2 with Dennis Whitaker, Mateo Diaz & Donnie Donahue coming soon

[mayhem24-7forever]

Cowgirl Lessons

Rhett Abbott (Outer Range) x F!Reader Oneshot

Summary: When she decides to spend her spring break from grad school in Wabang Wyoming, Y/N finds herself getting a little extracurricular education from a dashing cowboy named Rhett Abbott... with important courses like two stepping, cowboy hat law, bull riding, and lassoing/rope work.

Author’s Notes: Firstly, I don’t want minors reading any of my fics, even if they are SFW so this one is especially off limits! I deserve a safe place to express myself so please respect my boundaries. this is super long (like over 15k lmao) but it’s my birthday so #treatyoself. this came out of a conversation with @hyperfixatingmenever and @a-reader-and-a-writer on the top gun discord… so this is dedicated to the server. Big thanks to everyone who helped me out with this including @marvelandotherfandomimagines and @topguncortez​. fic divider by the lovely @a-reader-and-a-writer 💕

Content Warnings: bull riding (poor bulls tbh at least this is fake), mentions of injuries from bull riding, people referring to rhett as the town slut/manwhore (because he is and I love him for it), reader is referred to as a “city girl” so i’m very sorry to anyone from the country, small children being embarrassing menaces, overprotective brothers, profanity, drunk guy cat-calling once, drinking, dancing (two-stepping), flirting (like SO much flirting), making out, distracted driving (DO NOT FUCK OR FINGER WHILE DRIVING IN REAL LIFE ITS UNSAFE), fingering, teasing, one (1 singular) spank, dry humping/riding, unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it before you tap it in real life guys even if clean/on the pill), rope bondage, consensual somnophilia (waking up to being eaten out after giving permission the previous night), oral sex (female receiving), shower sex, having trouble walking after getting railed

The tiny town of Wabang, Wyoming was not where Y/N had thought she’d ever willingly choose to take a vacation, especially if she had other more exciting options. Nevertheless, it was where she found herself on her spring break from grad school, having decided to accept her brother’s invitation to spend two weeks there. At first, she had been excited, she hadn’t seen her brother much since he got married to a farm girl and moved to Wyoming to start a family, only getting to see him once or twice a year when he came over for the holidays. She was also excited to finally see his ranch, never having been able to visit before. Of course, she was a little disappointed as she got texts and saw social media posts from the rest of her cohort, practically everyone she knew seemed to have escaped to Miami, L.A., Cabo, or somewhere else warm, tropical and gorgeous. It wasn’t that Wyoming wasn’t beautiful–it most certainly was. From the peaks of the picturesque mountains to the wide open plains straight out of a postcard, it was one of the most beautiful places she’d ever been. But for as amazing as Wyoming was, she couldn’t help but think that she may have made a mistake.

At that very moment, her roommates were likely on a beach, surrounded by shirtless ripped frat bros and gorgeous women in skimpy bikinis, pounding back shots of tequila while grinding on some jacked hotties to a Ke$ha song. All while she was sitting in the uncomfortable metal stands of the Amelia County rodeo ring playing babysitter for her brother’s kids as they watched a bunch of grown men in cowboy hats ride large cows and fall on their asses in the dirt a bunch. While her friends were getting drunk, having sex, and partying, she was swatting flies away from her eight year old niece’s corndog and trying to keep her five year old nephew from dripping his ice cream all over himself and everyone else within a ten foot radius.

“Auntie Y/N?” her niece, Sarah, asked and she turned to look at her.

“Yes, lovebug?” she replied.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” Sarah said.

“Okay, lovebug.” she told her before turning to her nephew. “Come on, Jesse.”

She had never herded cattle before, but if she had to guess, it was probably much like trying to keep two small children focused on the simple task of walking to a bathroom. As they walked down the stairs of the stand, Jesse decided he wanted to run to the top so he could ‘see the bulls in the pens from up high’. After getting him down to the bottom, she realized that Sarah was jumping up and down to try and see over the fence, not believing Y/N when she said that the ring was empty because they were between rides and pouting when her aunt pulled her away.

As they made their way through the crowd towards the porta potties, she tried to no avail to get either of them to hold her hand, meaning she was much more focused on keeping her eyes on them than to the crowd around her. The crowd was thinning a little and the kids were still surging ahead without her, although luckily she could see them heading for the porta potty doors.

“Sarah! Jesse! Come back here!” she called out, too busy watching them to watch her step as she smacked right into a broad shouldered frame.

She was falling backwards for a moment before a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist and caught her before she hit the dirt. She was pulled up to her feet and steadied by the hands as she looked up at the person who had caught her. He was tall and quite handsome with the most striking blue eyes she had ever seen, his ear-length brown hair pushed back below his cowboy hat.

“Are you alright, Miss?” he asked, his voice low with just the hint of a country accent.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going!” she exclaimed, suddenly realizing how close she was to him with her hands on his chest as he still held her waist and she stepped back, embarrassed. “Thank you for catching me.”

“It’s quite alright, Miss. I hope I didn’t get any dirt on your pretty dress.” he replied, dusting off his gloves as she looked past him, relieved to see both kids opening the porta potty doors and stepping inside and he turned to follow her gaze. “Sarah and Jesse giving you trouble?”

“Yes, I-” she began and paused, confused. “How did you know?”

“Sarah is good friends with my niece, Amy, and they live near our ranch so I drive them all home from school on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” he explained before pulling off his glove and holding out his hand. “I’m Rhett Abbott.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” she replied as she shook it, trying to ignore the shiver of attraction that ran through her body when she felt his strong grip.

He smiled at her name and she knew that the grin of that handsome devil could be the death of her. The crowd had thinned out but she still walked closer to the bathrooms so she wouldn’t miss when the kids came out, Rhett trailing behind her. She finally noticed that he was wearing chaps over his jeans and one of the protective vests the riders had to wear over his blue plaid button up, the sleeves rolled up to showcase his well-defined arms.

“Are you a bull rider? I haven’t been able to pay much attention to the rodeo while trying to watch those two.” she asked.

“Yeah, I imagine those two are keeping you busy.” he said with a smirk. “And yes, I’m riding tonight.”

“I have to admit, I’m not entirely sure how bull riding works. I tried asking the kids but Jesse just said ‘you have to ride the bull the best’ and I have no idea what that means.” she said with a laugh and he chuckled.

“Well, there’s all kinds of rules about only using one hand and not touching the bull and tryin’ to earn the most points and the like but the most important thing is to try and last the full eight seconds without falling off.” he explained and she nodded.

“And do you often last the full eight seconds?” she asked, not entirely talking about bull riding any more.

“Oh, I always last far longer than eight seconds…” he replied with a smirk and she knew they definitely weren’t talking about bull riding anymore. “I was wondering if-”

“AUNTIE Y/N!” Jesse yelled as he ran out of the bathrooms and towards her, interrupting Rhett, who looked a little disappointed.

“WASH YOUR HANDS!” she ordered, pointing at the portable sink and shaking her head as he turned around to do as she asked, running back to her when he was done.

“Auntie Y/N, can I have another ice cream?” he asked, tugging on her dress before turning to the man talking to her. “Oh, hiya Mr. Rhett.”

“Jesse, I’ve told you about a hundred times that you can just call me Rhett.” he said, clearly amused by the young boy’s formality.

“Ma told me I have to say Mister and Miss for any adults who ain’t family.” Jesse said firmly before turning back to his aunt and tugging on her dress again, looking up at her with wide, puppy dog eyes. “Can I have another ice cream pleeeease?”

“One is enough for tonight little munchkin, but it was a good try.” she told him and he giggled.

“Listen, I wanted to ask you-” Rhett started but was interrupted once more.

“ABBOTT! YOU GOT FIVE MINUTES BEFORE YOUR RIDE! GET ON IT!” a man called out from near the fence at the back of the bull pens.

“ONE MINUTE!” Rhett called back, obviously annoyed at another interruption, before turning back to her. “I wanted to ask if you’d like to get a drink with me tonight? There’s a bar called the Handsome Gambler over on main street that I usually go to after a ride.”

He was smiling confidently but she could see a hint of nervousness in his eyes that made her feel special. Here was a man who regularly rode thousand pound cows angrily trying to buck him off but he was anxious that she might say no to a drink with him. She smiled.

“I have to get the kids home but if I’m not too tired after that, I think a drink might be nice.” she said coyly and he grinned. “But fair warning, I’m not a beer and whiskey type girl, more of a fruity cocktail kinda girl.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from a pretty city girl.” he replied and she smiled.

“RHETT!” the man called again and Rhett sighed.

“Go on cowboy, you’ve got a bull to ride.” she said, patting his chest before giving him a playful push towards the arena with a wink. “We can talk more at the bar.”

“Looking forward to it.” he said with a smirk before tipping his hat and walking towards the ring.

“Good luck!” she called after him.

“Good luck Mr. Rhett!” Jesse added, waving.

She watched him disappear into the back area of the ring, off limits to the audience and once he was gone, she turned to see Sarah washing her hands.

“Come on, lovebug! We’ve got some bull riding to watch!” Y/N called to her niece who smiled as she ran over to her. “Now, this time, you’re both gonna hold my hands until we get to the stands or you’re gonna be in big trouble.”

Miraculously, they made it back to their seats without either of the kids running off. She was smoothing out her dress skirt when Jesse suddenly started crawling onto her lap.

“What are you doing, you little munchkin?” she asked, amused.

“The seats are so uncomfortable, Auntie Y/N!” he explained with a pout. “Ma and pa always let me sit on their laps.”

“Alright, come here.” she told him and he smiled widely as she took him into her arms and sat him on her lap.

“Time for our last ride of the night, folks!” the announcer said through the crackly old speakers. “And it should be a good one! We have our hometown hero Rhett Abbott, winner of the Wyoming Rodeo competition last year, placed fifth in the semi-nationals, and tonight he’ll be riding the ever ornery bull ‘Napalm’. Napalm has quite the reputation for ending winning streaks and knocking riders out of the competition, and often, into the hospital. If Rhett can last eight seconds on Napalm, he’ll be practically guaranteed to move forwards to the state competition once again this year.”

At the mention of a hospital, Y/N sat up nervously, eyes glued to the back gate where she could see Rhett climbing in a pen, the bull he was mounting bucked wildly even in such a small space. Aside from plenty of nasty looking bruises, the worst injury they had seen that night was a man who broke his leg when he was thrown from the bull but he had been smiling and had his thumbs up as the on-site paramedics had carried him out of the ring.

This bull seemed more determined than any before to throw his rider, looking so angry that he probably wouldn’t want to stop until Rhett was below his hooves. From afar she could see the handlers struggling to keep Rhett upright as Napalm threw itself around the small pen wildly. She put her hand over her mouth and began chewing on her fingernails, a habit she only did before large exams and important presentations at school. Suddenly, she felt a little hand on her arm, pulling her hand down and she turned to see Sarah beside her, looking up at her with a caring expression.

“Don’t bite your fingernails Auntie Y/N, ma says it’s real bad.” she cautioned and Y/N managed a smile as she put her hand in Sarah’s and gave it a light squeeze.

“Thank you, lovebug.” Y/N said before leaning over to press a kiss to her niece’s forehead. “Just a little worried about Rhett, I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“Don’t worry, Mr Rhett is real good at riding bulls, pa always bets on him.” Sarah replied with a big smile at trying to be helpful.

Before Y/N could respond, a loud and low air horn sounded and the gate was thrown open. The crowd rose to their feet, blocking her view as they cheered wildly. Quickly, she shot up, holding Jesse close to her as she looked over the cowboy hats of the men in front of her, Sarah climbing to stand on her seat so she could see too. When she had seen the first bull ride of the night, she thought it was the most terrifying thing she’d ever seen, questioning why anyone in their right mind would do it as rider after rider was thrown from the bucking bulls and into the dirt. But this one made all the rest look like child’s play, the bull bucking higher and faster and harder as it spun, desperate to knock Rhett off.

Everything was happening so fast that it was almost a blur, even though it felt like a lifetime as she watched him struggle to stay on. At some point his hat had flown off and into the dirt and the bull had almost trampled on it. A cloud of dust was kicked up by Napalm’s hooves, making it a little harder to see but still the crowd cheered as Rhett stayed on. Suddenly, a buzzer rang out, signaling the end of the eight seconds. She wasn’t sure if he had jumped or been thrown but in a flash Rhett was on the ground, some handlers helping him up and away from the angry animal as others roped the bull and returned it to its pen.

When Rhett stood up fully, looking relatively unharmed as a handler handed him his hat, she breathed out a sigh of relief, one she hadn’t even realized she had been holding. As he put his hat on his head, he spun around to look at the scoreboard which changed to show him in first place, miles above the other riders in points. The crowd went wild, so loud and passionate that Y/N was certain there were Super Bowls and arena concerts with less excited crowds.

Sarah jumped up and down on her seat, her arms raised as she screamed happily, Jesse pulling himself off of his aunt’s shoulder to holler as well. She shifted her nephew so that she could clap and cheer, smiling down at Rhett’s figure in the ring. He was reveling in his victory but she could see that he seemed to be searching the crowd for something–or someone, she realized when his eyes met hers. His smile spread into a grin and she smiled back as she clapped and cheered. A handler walked up to Rhett and drew him–rather reluctantly–away from the crowd, sparing one last glance over his shoulder as he was led through the back gates out of the ring.

“Another fantastic ride for Rhett that has secured his place in the state competition!” the announcer said as the crowd continued to cheer. “Thank y'all for coming out to tonight’s rodeo, have a safe night!”

With that, the crowd began to file out of the stands and out into the gravel and dirt parking lot as she took a moment to catch her breath and calm her heart rate, so relieved that not only was Rhett okay but that he had seemingly won too. Jesse was beginning to nod off as he came down from his sugar high so she shifted him onto her hip as she led Sarah by the hand, who was rambling about how great of a ride that was and how she knew Mr. Rhett could do it. Y/N had a sneaking suspicion that her niece was harboring a bit of a school girl crush on him, which she found rather amusing.

They stood by the parking lot and played I Spy until her brother’s dirty red pick-up truck pulled up in front of them. Jenna, her sister-in-law, hopped out of the passenger seat to hug her babies, who were definitely very glad to see her. Y/N sat in the passenger seat as Jenna sat in the back between her children’s car seats. As her brother Sam pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, he looked in the rearview mirror at his family.

“Did you have a good time with Auntie Y/N?” he asked and the kids nodded before he turned to his sister. “Did they behave themselves?”

“Yes, they did.” she answered. “How was your date night?”

“Absolutely perfect.” Jenna said happily. “Thank you so much for watching them, we haven’t had a real proper date night in a few years.”

“Of course, it was fun.” Y/N replied, smiling at her sister-in-law.

“How was your first rodeo, sis?” Sam asked.

“Definitely… interesting.” she answered and he chuckled.

“Yeah, it took some getting used to when I first moved out here, Jenna used to say that I looked more scared than the actual riders.” he said and the kids laughed. “Who had the best score of the night?”

“Mr. Rhett!” Sarah piped up. “Mr. Ricky in the speakers said he gets to go to the state competition. He rode the whole eight seconds and he got way more points than everybody else!”

“Well I’ll be damned, looks like I just made twenty bucks off Carl at the seed store.” her brother said with a smile.

“Mr. Rhett and Auntie Y/N are going on a date!” Jesse exclaimed suddenly and Sam struggled not to swerve the car on the road before looking to his sister in disbelief as his son continued. “I heard him ask her to go to the place on main street where mommy says kids aren’t allowed.”

“Rhett Abbott?” Sam asked and she looked down in embarrassment at being ratted out by her nephew.

“I was going to ask if you could drop me off at the Handsome Gambler instead of my hotel.” she said quietly, referring to the little motel room her brother had put her up in because he was still working on building the new addition to the house for a spare room.

“Rhett Abbott?” Sam asked again incredulously and Jenna leaned forward to slap Sam’s shoulder and look at her sister-in-law.

“Rhett’s a nice man, you’ll have fun.” Jenna said before lowering her voice and giving a wink. “And he’s real good-looking too, you chose well.”

“No, no, no!” Sam exclaimed, hitting the steering wheel for emphasis. “My little sister is not going out with Rhett Abbott the…” he trailed off as he glanced into the rearview mirror to see the kids listening in and quietly added “...the M-A-N-W-H-O-R-E of Wabang!”

“Daddy, what does that spell?” Sarah asked.

“I’ll tell you later, sweetie.” he replied before looking at his wife. “I can’t believe you’re encouraging this.”

“Oh, stop it Sam!” Jenna said as she rolled her eyes. “She’s an adult who can make her own choices! Besides, she deserves to have a little fun on her spring break without her big brother ruining it.”

“Fine. But if he hurts you Y/N, I swear I’ll beat his…” he trailed off again as he noticed the kids were watching. “...butt.”

The kids started giggling, thinking that their father saying ‘butt’ was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

“So, will you drop me off at the bar?” she asked her brother and he sighed before nodding reluctantly.

“Auntie Y/N and Mr. Rhett! Sittin’ in a tree!” Jesse began to sing and Jenna tried not to laugh. “K-I-S-S… I don’t know the rest.”

“It’s ‘K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in the baby carriage!’” Sarah exclaimed helpfully.

“If Mr. Rhett marries Auntie Y/N, do we call him just Rhett ‘cuz he’s family or do we still call him Mr. Rhett?” Jesse asked his mother.

“He’d be Uncle Rhett then.” Sarah corrected, a proud smile on her face.

Y/N felt like she was going to die from embarrassment and stared out the window to avoid looking at anyone as her sister-in-law hushed the children. She couldn’t stop thinking about her brother’s words. Was Rhett really the town slut? He flirted with her so easily that it was obvious he wasn’t new to picking up girls and he was certainly handsome enough to leave a long trail of broken hearts behind him. Rhett was probably just a player looking to get his dick wet but wasn’t that what she was hoping to do too? She supposed that she could keep her heart out of it for her pussy���s sake and have a fun little spring break fling.

Soon enough, they pulled up in front of the bar on main street and she hopped out, turning back to lean through the open window to speak to her brother.

“Thank you for the ride, Sammy, I’ll see you tomorrow morning!” she said but before she could turn around to head into the bar, he reached out and placed a hand on her arm.

“Hey.” he said lowly, not wanting the kids to hear him. “I’m serious, call me if you need a ride or help or anything, alright? I don’t care if it’s at three a.m. or something, just call me.”

“I will, Sammy, thank you.” she assured her big brother, placing her hand over his to squeeze reassuringly before turning to walk towards the door.

“Have fun girlie! But not too much fun, it might be a bit too soon for you to become a momma!” Jenna called out and Y/N laughed as she grabbed the door handle.

The Handsome Gambler was just how she would expect a bar in a small midwestern town to be. It was dim and smokey, with neon signs on the walls casting colored light onto the packed tables of men in cowboy hats and women in cowgirl boots. When she entered, a man in a trucker hat wolf-whistled at her and she had the sudden urge to turn around and leave.

“Shut up Hendricks or I’ll make you eat your teeth!” Rhett’s voice warned and she looked to where the voice had come from.

She locked eyes with Rhett, who was sitting at the bar, hat on the counter and he smiled at her, giving her the courage to continue walking. If she had thought he was handsome in his bull rider get-up, she was blown away with how he made the most casual outfit sexy. Blue jeans (with an unfortunately large belt buckle), a gray henley and a blue flannel button-up should not have been making her squirm but the way he had the sleeves rolled up to display his muscular forearms somehow made her want to climb him right there in the bar.

This feeling was only intensified when she realized that he was wearing a different blue flannel than he had earlier, meaning he had changed specifically for her. A small voice in the back of her head tried to reason that it was likely just because his clothes had been dirty and sweaty from the ring but she chose to ignore it and allow herself to be flattered he was making an effort for her. He stood as she approached, his eyes briefly skimming over her body to admire her dress before returning to her face.

“Apologies for Mr. Hendricks, he’s an annoying asshole who can’t remember his manners when he drinks but he really is harmless. In about ten minutes he’ll be passed out in his usual corner.” Rhett assured her and she laughed.

“I can handle some cat-calls, it’s when they try to get handsy that I bring out my pepper spray.” she said, partially as a joke but Rhett just pursed his lips.

“Well I can assure you no one around here is going to be bothering you. If your brother isn’t enough to deter them, I’ll make sure they get the memo.” he said earnestly and she smiled.

He pulled back her stool and helped her up, surprising her with his chivalry, so unlike the usual skirt-chasers she ran into at the university. Usually men could barely be bothered to text back and yet here was Rhett, treating her like she was royalty. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t like it.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d come but I sure am glad you did.” He said as he sat back down beside her. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Only if you remember what I told you earlier.” she said coyly, testing how much he had actually paid attention to her at the rodeo.

“Kenny, I’ll have a beer.” Rhett said to the man behind the bar with a slight smirk as he added “...and can you make something like a fruit cocktail? I don’t believe the lady likes her alcohol to taste like alcohol.”

“You remembered.” she said with a laugh as Kenny went to get the drinks.

“You sound surprised. Do city boys not listen well?” he asked.

“Not too many of them.” she replied.

“Damn shame, I could listen to your cute little accent all day long.” he said and she blushed at the compliment.

“Some might argue that you have the accent.” she shot back.

“Not when you’re in my territory, sweetheart.” he said with that dazzling smile that she thought could charm the pants off a nun.

“I suppose you’re right.” she said before Kenny returned with a beer bottle and what she believed was an attempt at a cocktail, setting down in front of her a glass of pinkish red liquid and ice with a cherry on a toothpick hanging off the side. “Thank you.”

“That may be the fanciest thing I’ve ever seen Kenny make.” Rhett said when he left them to talk to a customer further down the bar. “How’s it taste?”

She took a sip and laughed, causing Rhett to ask her what was so funny.

“I’m fairly certain that this is just tequila mixed with fruit punch.” she answered.

“Really?” Rhett asked, amused and she slid the drink closer to him so he could have a sip. “Oh, that is definitely just tequila mixed with fruit punch.”

“I will say, I actually quite like it.” she said, pulling it closer to her again before popping the cherry into her mouth and taking another drink.

“So, how was your first rodeo?” Rhett asked before taking a swig of his beer. “Everything you thought it would be?”

“It was…” she trailed off, unsure how to summarize it all. “Well, I don’t think I’ve been as stressed as I was watching you ride since I presented my thesis idea last year.”

“You were worried about me?” Rhett asked and although his smirk was cocky, she could hear the undercurrent of vulnerability, like he was genuinely surprised that she actually cared about if he had gotten hurt.

“Yes, I was. That bull was like nothing I’d seen all night and the way the announcer talked about it had me squeezing Sarah’s hand probably a bit too hard.” she replied. “But I guess I had no reason to be worried because you made it look almost easy.”

“Well, I am real good at what I do.” he assured her earnestly before smirking and suggestively adding “I’m real good at everything I do.”

“Easy there, cowboy!” she said with a laugh, feeling more comfortable with him after five minutes than she felt with most people she had known for years. He was just so easy to talk to, being effortlessly vulnerable yet continually making her laugh like he was starved for the sound a way a man is starved for water in a desert.

“Just trying to keep you on your toes, girl.” he said with a wink.

“So what do you do when you’re not riding bulls or winking at girls in bars?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I work on my family’s ranch and sometimes if I have time, I hire myself out as a farmhand to other local ranchers when they need it.” he answered. “But the rodeo circuits are my main job.”

“You enjoy being thrown off thousand pound cows into the dirt?” she asked. “Do you just really like pain, is that it?”

“You and your damn wit, girl…” he said, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Nobody would ever even know you’re related to quiet old Sam with a wicked tongue like that. But yes, I do enjoy it. Maybe not the pain so much but there’s just something about how exhilarating it feels during those eight seconds. So freeing.”

“Sounds terrifying, I think I’ll stick to bike riding. Or maybe horse riding if I can stop almost falling off the damn thing.” she joked.

“Not having much luck with horses then?” Rhett asked, amused.

“I swear, if Sam wasn’t holding the saddle and walking beside me, I would have fallen off the horse more this week than every rider from tonight put together.” she answered. “I’m trying my best but I don’t think I’m very good at all this cowgirl stuff.”

“Maybe you just need a good teacher.” Rhett said.

“I’m supposed to be on spring break from school.” she replied with a laugh. “I’m supposed to be relaxing and having fun, not learning.”

“Who says you can’t do both?” Rhett purred, his low voice and southern drawl sending a wave of heat straight down to her core. “I mean, you just might need some practice straddling and riding something else.”

“I suppose you have something in particular in mind for your course curriculum?” she asked, leaning in to match his low whisper.

“Maybe one or two things.” he answered with that cocky smirk she couldn’t help but love.

“Then maybe we can start class later tonight…” she said so quietly he could only hear it because she was inches from his face before she pulled backwards into her original sitting position as he groaned and added at normal volume “but I don’t go home with just any old cowboy so let’s hope this date goes well.”

“How am I doing so far?” he asked and she smiled as she sipped her cocktail, ignoring the bulge in his pants that had grown as she had gotten closer.

“Ask me again after another drink or two.” she replied and he nodded.

“Yes ma’am.” he said, eyeing her half drunk drink.

They talked for a long while about their lives, their families, their childhoods. They talked about their favorite music and their hobbies and everything in between they could think of. They were getting to know one another, really hitting it off as the rest of the bar seemed to disappear. As they talked, she had to remind herself not to get lost in his beautiful blue eyes or get distracted by his rugged beauty, so handsome he was like a movie star straight out of one of the old western films her grandfather used to watch. When they had talked so long that her cocktail and his beer bottle were empty, Rhett flagged down the bartender to order another round.

“There’s still one thing I don’t understand.” he said as Kenny placed their second drinks in front of them, nodding a thanks. “Why come out to Wabang, Wyoming for spring break? Don’t college kids usually go to the beach or somethin’ like that?”

“They do. In fact, that’s where most of my friends are right now.” she replied. “But ever since Sam met Jenna and they moved out here, we really only see them when they come over for Christmas and Thanksgiving and stuff. I’d never seen the town that my brother fell in love with almost as much as he fell for Jenna or the little ranch that he’s always talking about on the phone. I wanted to see them all for a little longer than just a few days out of the year. So, two weeks in Wabang sounded pretty nice for a break.”

“And now?” Rhett asked. “Are you disappointed that you’re not on a beach with your friends?”

“Not really… I mean of course I’m a little jealous of all the pictures they’re sending me but Wyoming is really growing on me.” she said earnestly. “And besides, it has some things I couldn’t get on a beach.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” he asked.

“Well there’s one cowboy in particular who’s really caught my eye.” Rhett quirked an eyebrow in amused interest as she continued. “He told me he’d teach me how to be a cowgirl—an offer I’m still considering by the way… oh, and there’s this fantastic cocktail that you just can’t get anywhere but the Handsome Gambler.”

“And how is that tequila and fruit punch treating you?” Rhett asked and she laughed.

“I’ll be honest, it’s better than most of the ‘fancy’ overpriced drinks I’ve ever had at nightclubs with my friends.” she answered.

“I hope you were getting others to buy those for you. Pretty girls should never have to pay for their own drinks.” Rhett said.

“Aww, you think I’m pretty?” she asked teasingly with a smile.

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” he said earnestly, without a single hint of irony and she was taken aback by his candor.

She was so used to men giving cheesy pick up lines and half-baked compliments just so they could get into her pants, that she was thrown off kilter by the realization that Rhett was serious. Evidently, he saw the surprise in her face because he leaned forwards, his blue eyes staring deep into her own.

“I mean every single word. I don’t want you to think that I’m just running my mouth to get you in bed.” he said and she froze under his gaze, struck by just how wrong she had been when she had assumed Rhett was just another player who would say anything to try and get his dick wet. “I mean of course I’d still love to have you in my bed but I really do like you.” She laughed a little at his cheeky addition but was still stunned speechless by his words.

“Rhett, I-” was all she managed to stutter out before blushing and looking down at the bartop in embarrassment. “I really like you too.”

He put his hand under her chin and pushed it upwards to bring her to look at him, his blue eyes holding her gaze intensely.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked with a smile.

“Dance?” she asked, surprised.

“Yeah, dancing. They have that in the big cities right?” he joked and she laughed, looking over at the couples on the dance floor doing some kind of slow dance.

“We do have dancing in the city, just maybe not that kind of dancing.” she said, turning back to him. “It’s more like grinding… you have to be pretty drunk to do it.”

“Well, how about I teach you how to two step and you teach me how to grind?” he replied, flashing that mischievous grin again. “It can be your first cowgirl lesson.”

“I will dance with you but I will not be grinding, I’m far too sober for that.” she answered. “So are you gonna teach me how to square dance? Err, line dance? What is it called?”

“I’ll teach you to two step, I think line dancing may be a bit advanced for a first timer.” Rhett said, standing up, putting his hat on, and holding out his hand.

She took it, memorizing every line and callus of his strong hand against her soft skin, and he helped her down from the stool before leading her over to the area that was serving as a dance floor. They got into a typical slow dancing position, her hand on his shoulder and his hand resting on her waist while their remaining hands joined together. He taught her a simple move called a “two step” and then they were off, waltzing around the dance floor as she tried to remain on beat.

He would occasionally give her a pointer or correction but for the most part he praised her for getting a hang of it fairly quickly. They kept up that simple routine for an entire song and by the time the final notes of “Head Over Boots” played, she no longer had to focus on counting and her steps, instead able to simply enjoy the feeling of his hand on her lower back keeping her pressed up against him.

“Alright darlin’, this next one is a little bit faster.” he warned her with a smile as the next song began to play. “You up for the challenge?”

“Bring it on, cowboy!” she replied and he smirked.

“Alright, I warned you.” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye that made her weak at the knees, distracting her so that when he spun her out and around before reeling her back in, she was caught completely off guard.

She laughed, trying (and failing) to avoid stepping on his boots as she adjusted to the new pace and the added spins but after another song or two, she had acclimated to the dancing quite well. As “Why Don’t We Just Dance” ended, they were both breathing hard through wide grins, her heaving chest pressed against his, grateful to discover the next song was a slow song. They switched from two stepping to simply swaying, catching their breath as some melodic crooning about “Tennessee Whiskey” relaxed them against one another.

“Has anyone ever told you that your hat is sexy?” she asked once their heart rates had returned to normal and their breathing evened out, looking up at him.

“Once or twice.” Rhett replied with a smirk.

“Well, in that case…” she said before reaching up to grab his hat, pulling it off his head and placing it on her own. “How do I look? Sexy?”

“I- err… yes, you do look sexy.” he said, a look on his face somewhere between surprise and nervousness.

“You look like I just took a baseball bat to your truck headlights or something. What is it? Do you not like people touching your hat?” she asked, starting to get a little nervous that she had somehow fucked up in her lame attempt at flirting.

“No… it’s just, uh, around here a girl putting on a guy’s hat means… something special.” Rhett answered.

“Something special?” she asked.

“It’s like a… well, an unofficial rule that if a lady takes a fella’s hat and puts it on herself, then she… she’s supposed to go home with him at the end of the night.” replied, his usual cocky demeanor missing as he seemed nervous to tell her.

“Oh…” she said, understanding the full meaning of what she’d just done.

“But you didn’t know and I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, so I’ll just take it back.” He said, taking his hat off of her head and placing it firmly on his own, reaching his hand back out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “It’s a stupid tradition anyways. Just backcountry nonsense, really.”

She could tell that he seemed nervous, like she’d suddenly just slap him and storm off for daring to suggest that she had to sleep with him. She stared deep into his eyes, touched by the adoration and concern in them, genuinely caring if he had upset her. She took a breath to prepare herself for what she was about to do before launching up onto her toes, throwing her arms around his neck, and pressing her lips to his.

He seemed caught off guard for a moment before smiling against her lips as he deepened the kiss, his hands tightening around her waist to hold her closer. The kiss was so good that she almost forgot why she had initiated it in the first place, reaching up to snatch his hat off of his head, pulling back in his arms to place it firmly on her head with a wink.

“Oh no… It looks like I just have to go home with you tonight.” she purred coyly, giving him a smirk before leaning in and adding lowly “Or I guess you could come home with me since my hotel room is probably closer than your house and I just can’t wait to get my mouth on your cock.”

Rhett looked absolutely stunned, completely in awe of the gorgeous minx in his arms.

“God damn, woman…” was all he could manage to say, tipping the brim of his hat on her head up with a finger so he could hungrily kiss her again, one hand on her waist and the other on the side of her neck.

He kissed her like a man possessed until her chest was heaving against his, breathless from his affection when he pulled back and smirked at the dazed look on her face as she gazed up at him.

“I gotta get you outta here.” he growled before pulling her off the dance floor and towards the door, hand tight on her waist as he called out for Kenny to put the drinks on his tab.

It seemed like half the bar was staring at them as they exited, focused on Rhett’s hat on her head, but she couldn’t find the energy to care as Rhett looked back at her with a devilish grin that made tantalizing promises for when he got her alone. He held the door open for her as they left the bar and his warm palm was flat against her back as he steered her towards the passenger door of a blue pick-up truck. He opened the door for her and leaned in for another kiss, desperately missing the feeling of her lips against his. He had meant for it to be quick, he really had, but they simply couldn’t stop once they’d started. Her hands looped around his neck and into his hair as his hands wandered the silhouette of her body before settling on her ass with a small squeeze. She pulled back to catch her breath and put a hand on his chest as a signal to stop.

“You’d better get me to a bed, Rhett. I’m too classy to let you fuck me against your truck… well, at least not for our first time.” she said with a wink before turning to hop up into the passenger seat.

“Yes ma’am!” Rhett replied smugly as he closed the door and hurried around to get in the driver’s seat.

As he started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot, his hard cock ached, straining almost painfully against the confines of his jeans. The air was thick with sexual tension, the only noises being an old country song playing quietly on the crackly radio and the rumble of the engine. Rhett stared straight ahead at the road because he thought if he glanced at her, he’d likely have to pull over the truck and take her right there on the roadside in the bed of his truck. But he kept himself in check, thinking that she was the kind of girl who deserved to be fucked on the softest bed he could find.

He only lasted about a minute of driving before one of his hands moved from the steering wheel to rest on her thigh, toying with the hem of her dress just above her knee. His fingers wandered her thigh as he slowly pulled her dress up to reveal more and more of her bare skin. She shifted in her seat, squeezing her legs together as she tried to ignore the ever-growing wildfire of desire within her core that hadn’t given her a moment’s reprieve since it had sparked during their first kiss.

“What have we here?” Rhett asked as he caught a peek of her lacy panties as the fabric of her skirt bunched up at her waist.

The hungry rasp in his voice sent a shiver of attraction through her body and she dug her nails into the seat of his truck, gripping so hard that her knuckles were surely turning white.

“How’d you know that’s my favorite color?” he asked with a smirk and she sucked in a breath as his fingers skimmed over the waistband of her panties, and she felt as if they were miles away from the place she wanted him to touch.

“Oh god Rhett, please don’t tease.” she groaned as his wandering fingers advanced towards her clit but retreated just shy of reaching it.

“I’ll take care of you darlin’, just be patient.” he assured her, fingers trailing teasing patterns into the lacy fabric above her pussy. “Fuck, you look so sexy just sitting here all hot ‘n bothered in my truck in your pretty little dress with my hat on.”

She whined, desperately wishing for his fingers to move just inches down to relieve her burning need. Rhett’s teasing had frustrated her enough that she decided to take matters into her own hands, or more accurately, his. She grabbed his hand and pushed it down in between her legs, giving a sigh when she felt the slight pressure against her clit. Rhett chuckled but before she could ask what was so funny, his deft fingers pushed her panties aside and plunged two fingers deep into her wet core. She gasped in surprise and her hands flew to clutch his wrist as he began to slowly drag his fingers in and out.

“So impatient…” he tsked, plunging even deeper. “Do I need to tie your hands up so you’ll be a good girl?”

His words sent a thrill through her body and her pussy clenched at the thought, her walls squeezing his fingers as she let out a slight moan. Her reaction surprised Rhett and he decided to test a theory, still pumping in and out.

“Oh, you like that? You like the thought of being tied up?” he asked, voice low and rough. “You’d look so fucking hot all trussed up in my lasso.”

Once again, her pussy clenched and he chuckled. She was getting wetter by the second and he knew she was just as into the idea as he was.

“Is that what you want, girl? You want me to bring my lasso to bed? Tie you up and take you over and over until you can’t even think?” Rhett asked, stopping his movements completely when she didn’t answer, too lost in the feeling of the delicious drag of his fingers. “I said, is that what you want, girl? I won’t do shit until I know exactly what you want me to do to you tonight.”

“Yes! Oh god yes, Rhett!” she cried out, hands squeezing his wrist as if it would make him continue his movements. “I want you tie me up and fuck me so good, please Rhett!”

“There you go, darlin’. Good girls who use their words get rewarded.” he said, adding a third finger and resuming his movements as she gave a breathy moan. “Fuck, you feel so damn good around my fingers. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock. So god damn wet too, all this for me?”

She couldn’t even answer with anything more than a moan as he finger fucked her but Rhett knew the answer already. His thumb swirled her clit as his fingers thrust in and out of her cunt at a relentless pace and she could hardly breathe as her climax quickly approached.

“Rhett!” she exclaimed, her hands gripping onto his arm as the waves of pleasure finally began to crest.

“Shh, I’ve got you girl.” Rhett tsked like he was trying to calm a spooked animal and it only made her pussy clench down on his fingers harder as she orgasmed. “I don’t know what kind of small city boys you’ve been fucking in the past so I gotta make sure you’re ready to take a big country boy like me.” He rode her through her orgasm, giving one last hard thrust just before it ended and curling his fingers to reach that perfect spot inside before pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his mouth. She watched breathlessly as he sucked his fingers clean of her juices, humming in content as he pulled the truck into the hotel parking lot.

“If you can make me cum like that with just your fingers, I don’t think I’ll survive tonight.” she said and he smirked.

“Let’s see how long you can last riding on my cock. Maybe you’ll make it more than eight seconds like a true cowgirl.” he joked with a wink before hopping out of the truck and heading around to her side.

Still catching her breath, she was vaguely aware of him grabbing something from the truck bed and when he opened her door, she found him hanging his lasso on his belt. She turned to hop out only for Rhett to grab her by the waist and pull her out, setting her down between him and the truck. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss that slowly built in intensity until she was so caught up in the feeling of his tongue that she just barely noticed Rhett spinning her away from the truck and closing the door, walking her backwards towards the motel. They paused briefly so she could gasp out her room number and take the keys out of her pocket, which Rhett quickly took before he resumed steering her in the right direction.

Luckily, her room was on the first floor so they didn’t have to use the stairs, which would have been impossible with the way they were stumbling around blindly, connected at both the lips and the hips. They fumbled their way down the hallway, bumping into walls and doors as they made out with a ferocious hunger for one another. Evidently, Rhett became impatient with how slow their progress to her room was and he begrudgingly pulled his lips off of hers. Before she could whine or ask what he was doing, she suddenly found herself hoisted over his shoulder, looking down at his delicious backside as his strong arms anchored her thighs to his chest.

“Rhett!” she squealed in surprise and he silenced her with a light slap on her ass.

“Hush now girl, wouldn’t want to wake the other motel guests, would we?” he said smugly as he carefully leaned down to grab his hat from off the ground where it had fallen from her head when he had thrown her over his shoulder.

He put the hat back on his head as he hurried down the hallway to her room, briefly swearing as he fumbled with the keys to unlock the door. He swept inside, kicking the door closed behind him and flicking the light switch to turn on the lamps as he headed straight for the bed. She expected him to toss her onto the bed like a sack of potatoes with his hurry and ferocity but was surprised when he carefully laid her on the bed like she was the most fragile and precious thing he had ever touched. Her heart fluttered at how special it made her feel. She gazed up at him through her eyelashes as he chucked off his flannel and his boots, dropping them on the floor before setting his hat and lasso on the bed.

“Didn’t think you knew how to be gentle, cowboy.” she said cheekily, her breasts rising and falling as she caught her breath from the excitement and Rhett smirked as he pulled off her shoes and discarded them.

“I can be gentle if that’s what you want, sweetheart.” he said as he slowly and carefully climbed on top of her, gently brushing a strand of hair out of her face even as he caged her beneath him. “I can be whatever you want, darlin’. Gentle…” he purred, pressing feather-light kisses to her neck, a smile on his lips just barely ghosting over her skin before he moved to her ear. “Rough…” he growled before surging downwards to give her a bruisingly hard kiss that took her breath away before pulling back and leaving her gasping for air, blinking up at his smug smirk. “Somewhere in between…” he said as he returned to her neck, applying a light pressure as he tongued a spot that would surely be a hickey the next morning. It was just perfect and a long moan escaped her mouth involuntarily, her arms wrapping around his neck and threading her fingers into his hair with light tugs and Rhett chuckled against her skin. “Ah, there it is.” he said smugly.

“Don’t stop!” she cried out and he complied, returning to tonguing her skin. “Fuck, Rhett, don’t stop!”

Rhett’s mouth explored every inch of her skin from the top of her neck to the cleavage above the neckline of her dress, taking stock of what spots made her mewl and squirm the most. He pushed her dress straps aside so he could press tender kisses onto her shoulder, finding a particularly sensitive spot near her collarbone that he spent extra time teasing. His hands slipped beneath her body and began to unzip her dress, only getting halfway down her back before the zipper got stuck. He pulled it again but annoyingly it held fast. He yanked it once more, grumbling in frustration against her neck when it refused to come loose.

“Slow down there cowboy.” she warned and he pulled away from her skin to look at her. “You rip my favorite dress and I’ll cut up your favorite hat.”

“Darlin’, I’d like to see you try.” he replied with a smirk but nevertheless his movements slowed to carefully finish removing her dress, the zipper finally giving way and letting him pull it all the way down.

He slipped the fabric off of her body, reveling as more and more of her body was revealed to him, inch by tantalizing inch. He admired every curve, astonished with how she only seemed to get more and more attractive the less clothes she had on. He divested her of her bra much easier than he had with her dress, able to do it one-handed and without looking from a lot of practice. As her breasts were freed, her hands went to cover them instinctually, looking shy and nervous although he simply couldn’t understand why.

“Don’t hide from me sweetheart.” he coaxed, gently pulling her hands from her chest and taking in the sight of her bare breasts and stiffening nipples. She was gorgeous and he felt like he was looking at a goddess, unable to comprehend why she would ever think she was anything other than perfect. “You’re so beautiful, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I mean it.”

She sucked in a breath at his lovely words and the almost irreverent look in his eyes as he gazed down at her body in admiration and she was caught off guard when he stooped down to return to kissing her, capturing her lips with his own before she could even have a moment to think of a response. Without the fabric of her dress as protection, the cold metal of his ridiculously large belt buckle teased her bare skin as it was pressed between their bodies and she wouldn’t be surprised if the next morning, she ended up with an indentation of it there on her stomach.

She realized that Rhett was still completely dressed while she had been stripped all the way down to only her panties. Wanting to even the playing field a bit, she grabbed at the hem of his shirt and began pulling it up, Rhett pulling back from the kiss to remove it completely, tossing it aside. She marveled at his well-toned abs, her fingers skating along the hard lines of muscle. She chuckled at the tattoo of a man riding a bull that he had on his right pec, the black ink a stark contrast to his sun kissed skin even in the low lamplight of the hotel room. He had a bruise on his ribcage that was forming and he knew it would hurt like a bitch in the morning but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he watched her eyes devour him.

“Doesn’t hurt much right now, sweetheart.” he assured her. “This was one of my luckier rides, not as beat up as I usually am even though Napalm was a real mean son of a bitch. Maybe you’re my lucky charm.”

“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?” she asked tentatively when he winced as her fingertips grazed the tender skin.

“A little.” he answered, dipping down to whisper in her ear. “But I don’t really notice it when I have you to distract me.”

“Guess I better get to distracting then.” she replied with a smirk before latching on to his neck, determined to leave a mark on him to counter all the ones he had given her.

“Tryin’ to mark me up, girl?” he asked, half a chuckle, half a moan. “Let everyone in town know you’ve staked your claim on me?”

She laughed but was cut off as it suddenly turned into a moan, his hands grasping at her breasts. She found herself unbelievably turned on by his wandering hands (and mouth) as they continued to make out, pausing occasionally only to suck a hickey into the other’s neck before returning to their mouths. With his shirt off, her hands were able to explore his body, memorizing the feel of every inch of his skin under her fingertips. Feeling his erection straining against the confines of his jeans as he ground himself against her, she let her hands trail down his body to his belt.

She mentally cursed him for having such a ridiculously large belt buckle, making it ten times harder than it needed to be for her to undo it. After trying and failing a few times, she groaned in impatient frustration, tugging at his belt in angry desperation. She felt him smirk against her lips and before she had time to react, Rhett grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. She gasped in surprise and wiggled fruitlessly in his grip as he pulled back to admire the sight of her below him.

“Your hands are getting in my way, darlin’.” he scolded playfully. “Do I need to get my lasso out or can you behave like a good girl?”

“Hmmm…” she said, pretending to think before replying with mock innocence. “I’m not sure if I can control myself, Rhett.”

“You sure sweetheart?” he asked seriously, giving her an out she didn’t need.

“I’m sure.” she replied.

“Gonna need a safeword, darlin’. Got one in mind?” Rhett asked, trailing a finger down her front teasingly and she thought carefully for a moment.

“How about ‘Napalm’…” she said, a sly smile spreading on her face. “You know, in the hopes you can last longer than eight seconds with me.”

He laughed and said “I think I know how to put that wicked tongue of yours to better use…” before pulling her in to roughly kiss her.

She got no warning before he ended the kiss as suddenly as it began and he moved to sit up on his knees, roughly flipping her over before returning to straddle her. She didn’t even have time to gasp or whine as he pulled her hands behind her back and leaned over to grab his lasso. He arranged her arms so that they were one on top of the other with her elbows against the opposite wrists before beginning to wind his lasso around them as if he was making a design of some kind.

As he worked, she groaned at the sensation of his clothed erection against her ass. Her head was pushed against the mattress, the cool sheets cushioning her cheek and teasing her hard nipples. He smugly hummed a tune that she eventually recognized at the song that had been playing in the truck on the ride from the bar. She moved her arms and shoulders around slightly to test how sturdy his work in progress was and he reached around to pull her head up slightly, a careful but firm hand on her throat.

“You really need to learn how to behave, sweetheart.” he growled into her ear and she felt a shiver run down her spine in anticipation. “If you can’t stay still until I’m done, I’m gonna leave you tied up to make you watch me jerk myself off and you won’t get to cum again tonight. Got it?”

“Yes.” she replied breathlessly, his hand around her throat gentle to not hurt her or cut off her air but still firm enough to remind her he was in charge.

“Yes, what?” he asked, squeezing just a miniscule amount so she had to take slightly deeper breaths to answer.

“Yes, sir.” she replied and he removed the pressure on her throat so she could breathe normally again, his hand only serving to keep her head up.

“Good girl.” he cooed, pressing a soft rewarding kiss onto her shoulder before lowering her back down and resuming his work.

She stayed still, just enjoying the feeling of the coarse rope on her skin until her arms were completely bound together and Rhett was seemingly pleased with his work.

“Is that too tight, darlin’?” he asked.

“It’s perfect.” she answered before smugly adding “Sir.”

In seconds, he had her flipped back over onto her back, her arms trapped beneath her but she obediently stayed still, gazing up at him faux-innocently as she waited for his next instruction.

“Alright darlin’, test it out.” he ordered smugly. “See if my ropework is adequate enough for your high city standards.”

Following his instructions, she tried to pull her wrists free but only succeeded in wiggling her upper half. With her shoulders back, her chest was pushed out and Rhett seemed very pleased at the sight of her wriggling form, her breasts jiggling lightly. He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb against her lips teasingly before moving to run his fingers over her nipples.

She was helpless, but in the best way possible. She liked–no, loved–being at his mercy, completely reliant on him to provide for her pleasure. It was strange, she had never given anyone that kind of power over her in bed, not even long-term lovers, she just didn’t trust them. But for some baffling reason, she was not only comfortable but eager to give Rhett, a man she had met only hours earlier, that power.

“Perfect.” Rhett said, so quietly it was almost as if it was to himself, as he gazed down at her and continued to drag his fingernails over her nipples until they were stiff with arousal. “God, you look so fucking perfect all trussed up in my lasso.” Embarrassed by his praise, she averted her eyes as she felt her cheeks heating up but he simply pulled her chin to look back at him. “Don’t hide from me, girl. You need to know just how perfect you are.”

She had no reply, stunned speechless, only able to respond by surging upwards as much as she could to kiss him passionately. He immediately reciprocated the urgency in her kiss, his tongue parting her lips before delving deeper into her mouth. He was laying above her, hands on either side of her head supporting his weight as he wedged his knee between her thighs, pressing directly against her core. Slowly, she began grinding against it, her only way to bring even a fraction of relief to her aching cunt with her hands tied behind her back. She rocked against his knee several times before Rhett realized just what she was doing, pulling back to watch but leaving his knee in place. She wiggled and whined at the loss of his mouth against hers, helpless to do anything but continue humping his knee like a bitch in heat.

“Darlin’, you look so hot trying to ride my thigh like it’s a bull.” he growled as his blue eyes fixed on her intently.

“I’m not an expert like you, I think I might need some pointers…” she said, batting her eyelashes at him sweetly as she continued to desperately buck her hips, feeling the rough denim of his jeans even through the thin fabric of her panties.

“I think you're right, and I do believe I promised you some cowgirl lessons.” he replied smugly.

Carefully he pulled her up with him, sitting against the headboard with his legs spread obscenely as he pulled her to straddle his thigh. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his cowboy hat, placing it upon her head as she narrowed her eyes at him with an amused curiosity.

“Can’t ride without the hat, darlin’.” he said simply and she opened her mouth to reply but was cut off when his strong hands grabbed her hips and pulled her down onto his thigh so she would moan. “Go ahead and let me see what I’m working with.”

His hands fell from her hips to lie beside him, watching her with hungry eyes as she began to ride his thigh, chasing enough friction against her core to bring her relief. Strangely, she didn’t feel nervous or self-conscious anymore. She had thought that she’d feel silly dry humping Rhett’s jeans like a bitch in heat but when he looked at her the way he did, she just felt sexy. She bit her lip to contain her moans as she shifted her hips back and forth, up and down, and everything in between. Her head fell back slightly but she pulled back up just in time so as not to drop his hat.

“How am I doing? Passing for a cowgirl?” she asked after a minute of dragging herself against his thigh over and over again.

“You’re a natural, sweetheart.” he said, gazing up at her reverently. “Only thing I can teach you is to use your thighs too, not just your hips.”

“Like this?” she asked, continuing her movements but clenching her thighs down against his to keep herself steady.

“Perfect…” Rhett replied, leaning forwards to press sloppy kisses on her breasts as she rode, his large hands warming her skin as they returned to her hips and then traveled up her sides to assist in his assault on her breasts.

“Fuck, Rhett…” she moaned, struggling to keep her rhythm as she got ever closer to her climax, control of her body slipping away as her stamina ran out but her need increased.

Evidently, Rhett noticed her beginning to struggle, dragging his hands back down from her breasts to grab her hips and guide her movements, taking over when she was getting too close to the edge to keep it up. With his grip bruisingly hard on her hips, he helped to keep her riding through the intensely pleasurable waves of her orgasm when it hit suddenly.

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you.” he assured her as she got lost in the feeling, throwing her head back with a loud cry, his hat flying off her head and onto the floor. She panted, her chest heaving as her orgasm ran its course.

“Good girl.” Rhett purred and despite having just cum, she felt a stirring in her core once again at those words, her body seemingly not satisfied with just the one soul-shattering orgasm.

She slumped forwards in exhaustion against his chest, unable to push herself back up with her hands still tied behind her back. He let her sit there for a moment to catch her breath, her head still spinning as he kept an arm around her waist to pull her against him and keep her grounded, his other hands stroking her hair comfortingly. When she had had enough time to reorient herself, he carefully laid her back down onto the bed, her bound arms trapped uselessly between her body and the bed once more.

She whined, wiggling in disappointment as he got up out of the bed and he paused to lean over and inspect her panties, now drenched with her cum. He traced just the tip of his finger against the fabric, chuckling when she lifted her hips to chase his hand as it retreated.

“Look at that, darlin’... fucking soaked. Even got a little on my pants.” He said before he shucked off his jeans, discarding them to the floor and returning to his place in between her legs. “Sweetheart, are you particularly attached to this pair of panties?”

“No…” she answered, her brows furrowing in confusion.

“Good. I’ll buy you a new pair.” he said, with only that serving as a warning before he literally ripped them off her and she gasped, half in surprise and half in desire. “Well if that ain’t just the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen.”

“Rhett, I need you…” she moaned, feeling particularly empty as admired her cunt.

“Think you’re ready for me?” he asked and she nodded vigorously, pulling his dick out of his boxers to let her see it for the first time.

Rhett smirked as her eyes widened at the sight, well aware of how above average his dick was and reveled in people’s stunned reactions when they saw it. ‘Of course’, she thought looking at his large member, ‘Rhett not only had movie star looks but he had been blessed with a porn star cock as well’. From his position kneeling between her legs, he let his cock rest on her abdomen, showing her just how deep he would go when fully seated inside of her. It was intimidating but she felt as if she’d explode if she didn’t get it inside her soon.

“You sure you’re ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked again, tapping his cock on her stomach, a bead of precum leaking from it’s head onto her overheated skin.

“Yes Rhett, please!” she whined, wiggling in her bonds desperately.

“Want me to wear a condom? I swear on my mama’s life I’m clean.” he assured her.

“I’m on the pill and I’m clean, Rhett, please just fuck me.” she begged impatiently.

“Shh darlin’...” he said quietly, amused at her desperation but still reaching down to stroke her hair out of her face. “I’m gonna take care of you, I promise. Good things come to girls who are patient, sweetheart.”

“Rhett, please let me touch you, please, please, please.” she babbled and he shushed her again.

“Alright, alright, sweetheart. Take a breath.” he said, reaching under her to untie the ropes expertly with one hand and without a minute, she was free.

Immediately, her hands went to his body, touching every inch of his bare skin that she could, surging upwards to kiss him as if his lips were the air she needed to breathe. She pulled back for air and he cupped her cheek with one hand, the other by her head holding his weight off of her.

“Ready for me, darlin’? He asked, the head of his cock resting against her entrance and she nodded vigorously. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

He entered her slowly and she gasped, feeling suddenly as if all the air had been knocked from her lungs. Rhett moved at a glacial pace, giving her time to adjust to the feeling of his large cock stretching her open. He groaned as he felt her walls squeeze him, grunting when he finally bottomed out in her hot, wet cunt. He stayed still, giving her a minute to get used to the feeling of being stretched so deeply, resting his forehead against hers and murmuring encouragement and praise. He wiped a tear when it fell from the corner of her watering eyes and pressed a sweet kiss onto her lips, reminding her to breathe.

“You alright sweetheart?” he asked lowly and she took a breath, beginning to feel the discomfort fade and the pleasure return.

“Yes.” she said, gazing up into his blue eyes as he smiled down at her.

He began slow, pulling out almost all the way only to push back in at an agonizingly slow pace, increasing the speed just a miniscule amount with each thrust. When he bottomed out in her again after a few thrusts, she moaned and her legs went instinctively around his hips, heels digging into his ass like she was trying to keep him from pulling out.

“Faster, Rhett, please.” she moaned and he obliged, setting a steady pace as he thrust in and out.

As he sped up, she clung to him like a lifeline in the sea, tugging on his hair and raking her nails lightly (for the most part) across his back. The wet slapping noises of their bodies meeting rose in intensity, his grunts and her moans growing louder and louder until it was all she could hear. As he pounded into her, she threw her head back and closed her eyes in ecstasy. Never before had she been fucked so good and so hard and she was surprised at just how much she was loving missionary position, reveling in the intimacy of it instead of the impersonal and quick doggie style fucks most guys went for.

She could feel herself getting closer to the edge and evidently Rhett noticed too as he slipped a hand down between their bodies and rubbed circles on her clit, sending her crashing over into her third soul-crushing toe-curling orgasm of the night. Rhett wasn’t far behind, the feeling of her clamping down on his cock as she screamed in pleasure being enough to push him over the cliff, the pace of his hips stuttering as he came hard buried deep in her cunt. He groaned as he emptied himself into her, taking a moment to breathe and memorize the feeling of her around him before he pulled out and sat back on his heels. He watched in stunned awe as his cum mixed with hers, dripping out of her hole and onto the sheets.

Satisfied with himself, he smirked when he saw her staring up at the ceiling in a dazed bliss, glassy eyes and wide smile on her face. He put on his boxers and went to the bathroom for a washcloth and a glass of water. She vaguely registered him cleaning her up, coaxing her to drink from the cup and felt chaste kisses on her wrists as he confirmed she didn’t have rope burns. She had never felt so satisfied, her mind a pleasurable fog as he put his flannel shirt on her, buttoning it up before he clicked off the lamp and settled into bed beside her.

“You still with me, darlin’?” Rhett asked, pulling the sheets up to cover them both.

“Yeah… I just…” she replied, trying to force her brain to form coherent sentences instead of reveling in the post-orgasmic haze.

“Never been fucked like that by a city boy?” he asked with a grin that revealed he already knew the answer and she laughed as she turned her head to look at him, thoughts finally clearing up.

“Three orgasms in one night? No, no one’s ever done that.” she replied as he reached across her to grab her waist and hold her closer, her hand going to trail mindless patterns on his arm as she spoke. “Usually I’m lucky if I can get one that I don’t have to do myself.”

“That’s a damn crime.” Rhett said. “You deserve to be getting them morning, noon, and night… and a few in-between for good measure.”

“I gotta say you’re pretty good at pillow talk.” she replied.

“It ain’t just talk, sweetheart. You should be waking up with a mouth on your cunt every morning.” he said and she laughed, unsure if he was joking or not.

“I’ve always wanted to wake up like that.” she mused.

“Then that’s how I’ll get you up tomorrow morning.” Rhett replied and when she gazed into his blue eyes and that devilish grin, she knew he wasn’t kidding, a shiver of anticipation running down her spine.

“Careful cowboy, don’t make promises you can’t keep.” she said with a smile as she curled closer into his arms with her head on his chest, slowly letting sleep overtake her as she listened to his steady heartbeat. She was so exhausted that she wasn’t sure if she imagined him pressing a soft kiss to the top of her forehead just before she fell asleep.

She thought it was a dream at first, the feeling of a tongue lapping at her folds, a nose bumping against her clit. It felt heavenly, like she was an angel floating among the clouds, with only two strong arms anchored around her thighs to ground her and keep her tethered to reality. She sighed out a breathy little half-moan and heard a deep chuckle from the mouth at her core, the vibrations against her wet cunt only intensifying the sensations before the mouth retreated from her entirely.

“Ah, there’s my pretty little city girl wakin’ up for me.” A deep voice rasped and she opened her eyelids, still heavy with sleep, to find Rhett grinning up at her like a devil between her legs, the lower half of his face glinting with her slick.

“Rhett?” she asked sleepily. “What are you doing?”

“I promised you I’d wake you with my mouth on your cunt…” he replied. “And I always keep my promises.” He winked before licking a strip on her clit that made her throw her head back and moan.

Surprised that he was not only willing, but eager, to eat her out she moaned for him to continue. He obliged obediently, sucking at her clit as she begged for him not to stop, his strong arms anchored around her thighs to keep her wide open for him. With one hand tugging on his hair and the other gripping the sheets hard, she orgasmed, chanting his name like a prayer as she came on his face. Rhett dutifully rode her through the waves of her orgasm, smiling against her cunt as he was pleased with her pleasure. He licked one last stroke over her folds as she panted in the wake of her orgasm.

He climbed up her body to give her a hungry kiss, the taste of her still on his lips making her head spin before he pulled back.

“I think I just proved I was telling the truth when I said I’m real good at everything I do.” he said

“Are you always this humble?” she laughed.

“Modesty is overrated, sweetheart.” he replied, smiling before he kissed her once more, his fingers swiftly unbuttoning her flannel to give himself better access to her breasts. “My shirt looks better on you than it does on me… but I think it’d look even better on the floor.”

She giggled against his lips as he pulled it off of her, tossing it onto the floor as he continued to play with her breasts. His phone buzzed on the nightstand and he groaned as he rolled off her to check it.

“Fucking Perry…” he muttered and she laughed, remembering he had told her Perry was his older brother. “One sec darlin’.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, taking the time to ogle at his naked torso in the daylight. His bruise was getting worse and she was noticing more in other spots that she hadn’t seen before in the low lamp light. His bull rider tattoo on his right pec looked even better now that she could make out all the little details. She had marked him up with some hickies, no doubt in her mind that she looked much the same. Realizing she had to use the bathroom, she sat up and swung her legs over the edge, pausing to look back at Rhett when he asked where she was going.

“To the bathroom and then maybe a shower, that alright with you cowboy?” she asked sarcastically and he shook his head and smiled.

She went to stand up but her legs were too wobbly and she began to fall, Rhett lunging forwards to catch her, wrapping an arm around her waist and hauling her back up onto the bed, now sitting right behind her. He laughed and she could feel his chest rumbling against her back, clearly proud of himself for contributing to her current state.

“Not funny, Rhett.” she scolded, shaking her head as she was unable to stop herself from smiling.

“You seem to very clumsy sweetheart, that’s twice now I’ve caught you while you’re falling.” he joked. “Maybe I make you a little weak at the knees, huh?”

“Asshole.” she laughed, shoving him away before he swept her off her feet and began walking her to the bathroom, her arms quickly flying around his neck.

He carried her to the bathroom, depositing her on the toilet before stepping to the sink to get a drink. After she finished her business, she stuck her head out the door and batted her eyelashes at him.

“Wanna join me in the shower, cowboy?” she asked coyly and he smirked as she crooked a finger towards him.

“I believe I’m obliged to, someone needs to keep you from slipping and falling again on your shaky little legs.” he joked as he walked to the shower and turned it on.

She should have known that having just an innocent shower was impossible with Rhett Abbott. What started as him washing her back quickly turned sexual when his hands wandered down to her ass and she found herself yet again being railed within an inch of her life by him. Afterwards, she shooed him off so she could wash her hair without him trying to seduce her again and once he ensured that she could stand on her own with a cheeky little smile, he hopped out to get dressed while she finished her shower. When she walked out of the bathroom covered only by a towel, Rhett tried to steal her it to make her laugh before they began making out once more.

“I wish I could just spend all day between your legs.” he groaned, trying to pull himself away from her so he didn’t do just that. “I could show you all the different uses for my lasso that are way better than roping cattle.”

“Tempting offer but I think my brother would break down the door thinking I was in trouble if I didn't come out.” she said with a laugh as she patted his chest and playfully pushed him away. “Speaking of which, you’d better get out of here before he comes to pick me up.”

She quickly got dressed, spying him slipping her ripped panties from the previous night into his back pocket with a cheeky smile out of the corner of her eye.

“Excuse me sir, are you stealing my panties?” she asked with a laugh.

“Well ma’am, I have to know what size and brand to get you for a replacement.” he replied smugly. “That’s all it is.”

“Oh, that’s all is it?” she asked, raising her eyebrows in amusement as she pulled him against her by his belt. “It wouldn’t be because you want a souvenir of your conquest? Because I don’t think it’s very fair that you get one and I don’t.”

“Well, I could give you my boxers but going commando for a day of ranch work might be a little painful.” he said and she shook her head. “So, how about this as a souvenir?” Rhett asked as he placed his hat on her head.

“So if cowboy law says that a girl taking a cowboy’s hat and putting it on her head means she’s going home with him, what does a cowboy taking off his hat and putting it on her head mean?” she asked and he smirked.

“You’ll have to find out by going out with me again tonight.” he replied.

“Hmm.” she said, pretending to think about his offer. “I guess I might be free tonight for some more lessons. Besides, I told you last night that I wanted to get my mouth on your cock and I still haven't so I have some promises to keep too…”

“Damn it woman, you’re really gonna make it real hard for me to leave aren't you?” he asked and she laughed.

“I’m certainly making something hard.” she said with a smirk as she trailed a hand down to palm his hardening bulge before stepping away to open the door in feigned innocence. “See you tonight, cowboy.”

“Can I get your number before I go, darlin’?” he asked as he stepped out the door and a sly smile grew on her face.

“Check your shirt pocket.” she said with a smirk and a wink before closing the door, leaving him dumbfounded on her doorstep when he reached into the pocket of his flannel and pulled out a slip of paper with her number on it, knowing that he’d truly met his match.

Looking through the peephole, she watched him walk towards his truck, a slight spring in his step. She could hear him whistling even through the door and down the hall and she laughed when she realized that it was the same song that had been playing when he fingered her in the cab of his truck, the same one he had been humming when he had been tying her up.

Peering out the curtains of the window, she watched him drive away, her brother’s truck passing Rhett’s exiting one as he entered the parking lot and she could swear that she saw her brother staring Rhett down through the windshield. Quickly, she got dressed and ready to go before heading down to the parking lot, deciding to leave Rhett’s hat on her head to mess with her brother. Sam was checking his phone when she hopped in the front seat, Jenna and the kids in the back seat.

“Good morning!” she said cheerfully and he nodded as he glanced over at her, returning his eyes to the wheel before they shot open in surprise and he had to do a double take.

“Whose hat is that?” he asked sternly. “That had better not be Rhett Abbott’s.”

“In an attempt to stop you from having a heart attack, I’m choosing not to answer that question.” she replied, barely able to hide her smug smirk at her brother’s panic.

“Good for you, girl!” Jenna cried, leaning forwards from the backseat between her children’s car seats to pat her sister-in-law on the shoulder. “Domesticate that wild cowboy.”

“No!” Sam said quickly, turning to look at his wife in stunned disbelief. “There will be no ‘domesticating’ any cowboys, especially not Rhett Abbott.”

“We’ll talk later…” Jenna mouthed to Y/N with a wink as she sat back in her seat.

Sam sighed grumpily, his face contorting into a frown as he shifted gears and pulled the truck out of the parking lot and down the road towards their ranch.

“Auntie Y/N, can I be the flower girl at the wedding?” Sarah asked suddenly from the back seat and Sam just about jumped out of his skin.

“WHAT?” he panickedly sputtered, Jesse laughing at his dad’s reaction. “Sarah Ann Y/L/N, what are you talking about?”

“Wearing someone else’s hat means that you like like them.” Sarah replied, cheerfully. “Chrissy and the older girls told me that her big sister was wearing a guy’s hat and the next week they got married!”

“If there’s a wedding, do I have to wear my sunday clothes?” Jesse whined. “I hate them, they’re so itchy!”

“No one is wearing sunday clothes because no one is getting married!” Sam insisted, his wife and sister struggling not to laugh at how virulently against even the suggestion of his little sister marrying the so-called “manwhore of Wabang”.

Y/N was so amused that she didn’t even try to reassure her brother that she was not going to be getting married after one date, but she also didn’t mention her second date with Rhett later that evening, deciding to give his heart a rest for a while as she thought about what cowgirl lessons Rhett might teach her that night.

[nobody7102]

I posted 2,882 times in 2022

That's 2,385 more posts than 2021!

392 posts created (14%)

2,490 posts reblogged (86%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@fanboygarcia

@hangmanapologist

@sebsxphia

@babyrooster

@topguncortez

I tagged 807 of my posts in 2022

#lewis pullman - 148 posts

#top gun maverick - 138 posts

#top gun - 125 posts

#lewis pullman imagine - 82 posts

#lewis pullman x reader - 81 posts

#top gun imagine - 73 posts

#danny ramirez - 71 posts

#nobody shouts - 67 posts

#top gun x reader - 66 posts

#rhett abbott - 58 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#take your fucken kids home i understand you have an ear infection bc jesus christ mom livy and i have been watching them and we had plans

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Robert 'Bob' Floyd NSFW Alphabet

A/N: BOB! My mans, my handsome lovely man. I will take any and all requests for Top Gun characters but ESPECIALLY for Bob <3

Main Master-List

__________________________________

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you think that Bob is the sweetest man ever post-sex then you would be absolutly correct. He will draw the two of you a bath, help you clean up. He’s got a towel warmer in the bathroom and he puts your favorite blanket on it to warm up for you once you’re dry.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

This man knows he has pretty eyes. He knows that you could get lost in them, and they’re the things that keeps him and Phoenix safe.

On you, he’s an ass man. His hands are always on or around your ass, holding onto the belt loops of your pants, hand on your lower back or thigh. Again: always on or around your ass.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside of you, Bob likes to try and keep everything as clean as possible. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Bob is into light bondage, have him tie you up and the thought of him not letting you touch him gives him a sense of control and dominance that he doesn’t normally get

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He doesn't have a lot of experience but he absolutely knows what he’s doing. Bob doesn't do hook-ups or one-night stands. He’s a relationship man and you better believe he’s educated himself

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Other than the light bondage, Bob is a pretty vanilla dude. He’s a missionary man, and when you add the light bondage to that, that’s all the spice that Bob needs.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

No matter what kind of day Bob has had, he always leaves his issues at the door. Work stays at work and at home when you have sex he is the smiliest, goofiest, cheesiest man ever.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Bob tries his best to keep it nice and trimmed but sometimes he forgets to do upkeep.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Like with his aftercare: thee most tender, soft, and caring lover EVER. Once again, he’s a relationship man, he makes sure to have that connection with you

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Bob doesn't really jack it, it’s not that he doesn't like to he just doesn't really do and prefers not to do it unless he’s away from you

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Light bondage as mentioned.

Breeding kink, this man wants to settle down someday and have a family, and with you he’s ready whenever you are.

(I’m about to tell you how to get him to come on the spot) Suck, lick and bite his neck and arms during sex. Bob gets so much shit from everyone(namely Hangman) about how Bob doesn't seem like he could get it alot, so showing up to the base in his short sleeved uniform dawning the marks you gave him, fills him with a sense of pride

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

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662 notes - Posted June 14, 2022

#4

The Killjoy: Chapter 1

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: The start of the Bobby Boy series!! I said I was gonna do something else for TG didn’t I

Chapter 2

Main Master-list

Series Master-List

____________________

Walking with his bag slung over his shoulder, Bob adjusted his glasses as he made his way back into the Top Gun building. Pushing open the door he made his way down the halls pausing right outside of the locker rooms, hearing chatter coming from it before he entered.

“Here, let’s see what Bob thinks” Hangman's voice rang through the locker room “Bob” He made his way over to Bob, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“What do you think this mission is for, all of us, back here just two months after the uranium plant mission. What do you think we’re doing now?” Jake moved his hand from Bob’s shoulder and motioned over to Rooster, Payback, Fanboy, Fritz, and Coyote “Because Bradshaw thinks we’re speaking to the new Top Gun graduates, and the rest guess that Cyclone is holding an Alumni Competition” 

Bob shrugged making his way over to his locker “I couldn’t say” he set his bag down on the bench as he started to unpack it “But if I had to guess, then it’s another seek and destroy mission” he grabbed his flight suit, starting to put it on “What do you think it is?” 

Jake smirked, turning back to his locker. “We’re here to teach our individual special skills, ” he hummed. “And I know that's a possibility because I saw Maverick walking in to go talk with Cyclone and I’m hoping that-” Before Jake could finish his sentence Pete popped his head into the locker room to yell.

“Everyone will be dressed and ready in the hager in five minutes! We’ve got a guest today” 

Everyone nodded to him and quickly finished getting ready before making their way out to the hanger, seeing Maverick, Warlock, and Cyclone standing in front of the flag that hung from the ceiling.

As soon as everyone had taken their seats Warlock walked up to the podium to address the pilots. “Thank you all for agreeing to this” he started “The reason why I am giving the introduction to this mission today and not Admiral Simpson is beauce I asked” he gave a small smile “In three weeks, six Jets will be escorting and if necessary defending a cargo convoy that is transporting weaponry. Everyone who is here will be participating in the mission” 

Phoenix looked around at the group before raising her hand “Sir you said there would be six Jets. That’s three solo pilots and three Wingmen with their RIO’s…. Out of all of us here, there’s only two solo pilots… Is Captain Mitchell flying with us?”

Warlock shook his head “Captain Mitchell will be co-instructing this mission…and as he might have told you already we have a guest, this pilot is someone I have personally flown with so I expect all of you to treat her with the utmost respect” he eyed everyone in the crowd (but mostly just Hangman) “because not only is she on loan to us from the Marines for this mission to co-instruct… she will also be your mission leader”

Footsteps filled the hanger as Warlock motioned to the back of the room “So without further ado I would like to introduce Captain Y/N Y/L/N” everyone’s heads turned watching as the new Captain made her way up to the front of the crowd “Call Sign ‘Killjoy’.” He moved around the podium to shake Y/N’s hand before she took his place.

As Y/N’s eyes scanned the room looking at her fellow pilots before she paused on Bob, seeing how his mouth was parted in surprise. She gave a small smile before clearing her throat “Thank you for the introduction Admiral Bates, as mentioned previously I am Captain Y/L/N but you all can call me Killjoy” she hummed “I’m not here to teach you anything new, I am here to make sure that the nine of us can function together as a unit” she glanced to Bob before looking down to the podium “I’m sure that it should be fairly simple to get along, especially after hearing that all of you flew together two months ago” looking back up she nodded to Pete “Captain Mitchell already knows where you all stand in your flight abilities but I don’t. Captain Mitchell and I will be up in the air, and you all will go up in groups of two and complete a short course so I can see where everyone’s at” Y/N moved away from the podium

“First group in the air is Hangman with Fanboy and Payback. You go up in five” Pete called out to dismiss everyone before he turned to Y/N to set up a plan between themselves.

Pushing out of her seat, Natasha started off for the lounge before she stopped realizing that Bob was still sat at the table watching Y/N. Walking back over to him she snapped in front of his face pulling him out of whatever trance he was in “Earth to Bob?” she hummed watching as he pulled his gaze away from Y/N, she raised her eyebrow with a smirk “Oh my god” she chuckled before turning to go to the lounge.

“What?” Bob called out, moving from his seat to follow her.

“You totally like the Captain” she hummed walking into the lounge where Bradley, Javy, and Billy eyed the two, curious of their conversation.

“Bob likes the Captain?” Javy smiled looking to the RIO “Don’t worry I like her, I’m sure Hangman and Rooster do to” he laughed

A small flush came over Bob’s face “You guys are horrible” he shook his head “I do no-” he paused hearing the door open before he could finish.

Poking her head into the room Y/N looked around before her eyes landed on Bob “Lieutenant Floyd… May I speak to you?” she motioned to the hallway. Bob only nodded before he made his way out of the room.

Everyone looked between each other before they glanced at the windows of the lounge, watching as Bob and Y/N exchanged a few words before shaking hands, a few more words were said before Y/N turned to walk back to the hanger and Bob made his way back into the lounge, with everyone’s eyes on him. 

Natasha was the first to speak “Please tell me she just asked you out?” 

“No, did you see that hand shake?” Bradley started “If anything she was introducing herself, but she definitely thinks he’s cute, because she didn’t introduce herself to the rest of us.” 

See the full post

820 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

#3

Play Along (Smut)

Warnings: unprotected smut, little it’s bit of exhibitionist kink if you squint (Wrap before you tap), i think that's it (let me know if there's more)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are assigned together on an under cover mission and things aren't what you thought they'd be

A/N: This was my first time writing smut so be gentle with me. Reader does use female pronouns

Main Master-List

Jogging down the corridor of the building, Y/N glanced down at her watch. Late, of course. One of the top four most skilled Shield Agents, in espionage and yet punctuality is not her forte, at least for debriefings that is.

Picking up her pace to a sprint she glanced at the numbers written along the meeting rooms before stopping at room 407, straightening herself out before opening the door. As the door opened she was met by the glaring eye of Nick Fury, who stood at the head of the long table before glancing around the room, noticing Natasha, Clint, and Bucky all seated at various points around the meeting table.

“Well look who decided to grace us with her presents” he started. “What happened, get caught up talking to the level 1 agents again?” He followed her as she took a seat next to Bucky. Giving him a light nudge and smile, to which she was met with the same smile and light nudge back.

“Ya know I was gonna lie and say that but honestly Nick, my alarm didn’t go off so my 20 minute desk nap became a 25 minute desk nap. To which I apologize” she hummed, grabbing a case file from the center of the table.

From quickly glancing at the file Y/N let out a whistle “Damn I pity the poor soul who’s doing the deep cov-” she stopped looking around the room, noticing everyone was staring at her with an amused smile on their face. “You’re fucking kidding me?!” she shrieked “You’re sending me in deep cover to Strasbourg?!” she moved to lean against the table.

“You and me both L/N” Bucky matched her enthusiasm.

“Why are you sending us?! No offense Barnes, but do you remember what happened the last time we did deep cover together.” Bucky smirked at her response, remembering. “Yeah Y/N we remember, Laura and I are still trying to buff out the dent in the gun you borrowed, besides are you afraid you’ll have to play real Wife to your Work Husband?” Clint smirked watching as Y/N pointed across the table at him, pointing her finger accusingly.

A blush spread across her and Bucky’s faces as she pointed back to Clint “We are no different than you and Natasha, besides that was not my fault” she moved to point to Bucky before poking him in his shoulder “I told Bucky not to grab the bathtub when he chu-”

He pointed back at her, “Me?! You told me to gra-”

“REGARDLESS of the damages done to any weaponry or safe houses, Barton and Romanoff are too well known in Strasbourg. Hence why you and Barnes are the only other two agents qualified for the job.” Fury tapped the table causing a projection to appear in the center of the table.

“L/N, meet Emilia Carver otherwise known as “The Eye”...she sees everything and is one of the most elusive ghosts in Europe.” The projection showed a lady of similarity to Y/N, of course there were a few things off about the two but for the most part they could have been related. Clicking the next slide it showed the same girl lying on the ground in some room.

“Last week Barnes and Barton found her dead in bunker just off the coast of Naples, you will go in her place with the Winter Soldier to secure a package.” he clicked the slide showing a man “This is Nathan Lark, we have reason to believe that he holds sensitive information about the inner working of our black-ops team and their current locations and targets, secure the package and then the missions over”

“That's all great Fury, but how long? Because I made plans to go to Disney with the family” Clint glanced up from the file.

“For you and Romanoff, a few weeks. You’ll just be on stand by working comms and technicalities. For L/N and Barnes, a month at the least.”

Dragging her eyes from the screen over to Bucky they locked eyes for a moment before Y/N spoke “Won’t it look odd, The Eye and the Winter Soldier together?”

“No” Bucky spoke before Fury could “I’ll fill you in on specifics on the way to Strasbourg, but for now…” he swallowed “the two had a shared history…” he looked back down to the file.

A laugh left Clint “Sure if that's what you wanna call it Bucky” looking over to Clint, Y/N furrowed her brows before looking over to Bucky who just shook his head.

“I’ll tell you later”

Y/N just nodded looking over the file once more before letting out a sigh before closing the file.

“When do we leave?”

______________________________________

Looking out the window, Y/N tapped her foot against the floor of the train as she readjusted the sunglasses that had slid down her nose. Her focus shifted from the window to Bucky who had taken up the seat beside her.

The two sat in silence before Y/N spoke first, “So what did you mean, by The Eye and The Winter Soldier have history?” she watched as Bucky avoided her gaze.

A laugh came from the intercom before a groan filled Y/N and Bucky’s ears “What fun conversations always start when you ask an assassin how they know another assassin”

See the full post

920 notes - Posted March 24, 2022

#2

Bad Day

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Reader

Warning: None

A/N: Hi so this was originally an ask/request someone made, and I had the post all ready and I went to post it with the ask but then tumblr ate it and now I can't find it. If you were to person who requested this ask: thank you I loved writing this and I’m sorry that I can’t find your actual ask

Request: (I can't remember who asked/requested) Hey love, can you write a blurb with Bob ( top gun ykyk😏) and him coming home really exhausted and just wants the reader to play with his hair and is really cuddly and clingy. Just pure fluff<33 Thank you<3

Edit: I FINALLY FOUND THE OG ASK! @finja-caipirinha I didn’t forget tumblr just ate your ask

Main Master-List

___________________________________

Resting his head against the steering wheel, Bob let out a sigh. He’d been sitting in the driveway for 5 minutes now heavily debating if he wanted to go in or spend the night in his truck. Eventually deciding that messing up his back wouldn’t be in his best interest he exited the vehicle and grabbed his duffle bag from the backseat. Fishing his keys out of his pocket as he approached the door, he unlocked it and made his way inside. 

Dropping the duffle on the floor he slipped off his boots, not bothering to untie them before he looked around the house and spotted Y/N lounging on the couch, reading. 

Shuffling over to the back of the couch, he paused for a moment to decide if he wanted to take the extra time to walk all the way around or if he wanted to make life easy. So going for the obvious choice he swung one leg over the back of the couch, then the other, before he was planted right next to Y/N. 

He didn’t even give her the chance to ask how his day was before he sprawled himself out on the couch, burying his face into her waist as his arms wrapped around her form. He felt Y/N set her book down before her hands were rubbing his back.

“Baby….my hair…” he mumbled 

Y/N raised her brow “Hmm?” 

He nuzzled his face further into her waist “Your hands… in my hair” Y/N let out a humm finally understanding what he ment, her hands traveled from Bob’s back and started tangling themselves in the hair at the base of Bob’s neck. 

The WSO let out a sigh as he felt Y/N’s fingertips massage his scalp.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Y/N’s voice rang out as she shifted herself into a more comfy position… well as comfy as she could get with Bob on top of her.

“Jake can ahdfmg” he mumbled out. 

“He can do what?” she chuckled

“Jake can fuck off” he moved so the side of his head was resting against her abdomen, “he fucked with Phoenix and I durring all of the training, which resulted in the three of us having to do three sets of 200 pushups, and one dead hang for 10 minutes… my arms feel like they’re gonna fall off my body”

“Aw Bobby” Y/N leaned down to kiss the top of Bob’s head “...Do you want me to start the shower for you?” 

Bob shook his head “Can we take a bath?” Y/N nodded, sitting up from his spot, Bob pulled Y/N up with him, his arms once again finding their place around her waist as she led them upstairs.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub Bob grabbed Y/N to place her on top of his lap as she turned on the faucet, feeling the water to make sure it was warm before letting it fill the tub. 

“Can you put this in it?” Bob hummed, reaching over to grab a bath oil that rested on the sink counter. Y/N nodded, taking it from his hands to add to the tub.

“Do you want bubbles too?” she paused before she felt something lightly touch her shoulder, looking over she grabbed the tube of shower gel from Bob, she looked at it and chuckled “oh so it’s a grapefruit and honey type of bath” she laughed and added the gel to the water.

Once the oil and bubbles were added to the water, Y/N and Bob stripped down before Bob sank into the warm water first, once settled he let Y/N sink down before pulling her to his chest. “Thank you… for this” he hummed.

“Anything for you baby” she rested her head back onto his shoulder, giving him a soft smile.

955 notes - Posted June 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

It's Okay

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd

Warning: Angst, injury, plane ejection and crash, hospitals, medical talk

Request: @mypr3ttygirlworld "If your comfortable, after watching greys anatomy I have been thinking of a story where Bob gets a brain injury/ brain surgery it’s him and his so basically coming to terms with what that entails. Only if your comfortable with writing it and if not I completely understand!"

A/N: They way I cried multiple times while writing this. I changed the request a tiny bit. Also I don’t know medical stuff so idk if anything is correct medically speaking

Main Master-List

___________________________

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she ran from the parking lot into the entrance of the hospital, eye’s dashing around for some familiar face.

In the two years of dating Y/N knew that there would always be risks when dating Bob, but they never fully thought about it… until reality had caught up with them.

Her breath caught in her throat as she locked eyes with Rooster, before she racked her eyes over the rest of the team as they all sat in the waiting area. Standing from his seat Rooster made his way over to Y/N, pulling her into a hug.

Thoughts flooded Y/N’s head as she hugged him, and that's when her senses caught up with her as she took in Rooster’s words “Maverick’s talking with the doctors right now… we don’t really know anything” 

Y/N just nodded, pulling back “Where’s Natasha?” Rooster motioned to the corner of the waiting room, where Phoenix was slumped in her chair, one arm crossed over her form as the other rested against it, covering her face as her leg bounced against the floor.

Quietly Y/N made her way over to the pilot, kneeling down in front of her, Y/N placed a hand on Phoenix’s knee, causing it to stop bouncing as she looked up.

Y/N’s eyes softened taking in Natasha’s state. Her eyes were red, hair askew, and Y/N noticed how the palms of her hands were indented with the crescent shape of her nails. Leaning forward, Y/N pulled her into a hug as the pilot let out a rigid sob, arms wrapping around Y/N’s form “I-... I don’t know what happened” she mumbled into Y/N’s shoulder. 

The damn that had been holding back the tears and emotions finally broke in Y/N as she hugged Phoenix tighter. The two, not uttering a word as the rest of the team just watched, unsure what to do.

It took a few moments for the two women to regain their senses before Y/N sat next to Natasha and rested her head on her shoulder, as everyone else moved to sit closer to them.

“What happened?” Y/N finally managed to ask after a few minutes, as she sat up, her voice was quite as if something would break if she spoke any louder.

She felt Phoenix stiffen a bit at the question before she cleared her throat “It was supposed to be a simple training day…” she swallowed what little spit was left in her dry mouth “We were just gonna be practicing a flight path and ther-” her voice caught in her throat, her thoughts raced as she tried to find the word but everything just mushed together.

“We were flying when Phoenix caught some turbulence” Hangman continued, seeing how Phoenix struggled, he took her hand in his and gave it a light squeeze “They tried to level out, but it blew out the controls… and one of the engines.” he continued

“I thought-” Natasha started again, taking a breath “I hit the canopy button… but the latch got stuck… and then Bob’s seat-” tears started to make their way down her cheeks, she lifted her hands up to hide her face “I’m so sorry Y/N” she mumbled.

Standing from her seat Y/N walked from the group and out the entrance, she paced not knowing what else to do, not noticing how Rooster had gotten up to follow her. 

“Y/N” he called out to her “Y/N, you’re gonna make yourself sick” he grabbed her arm “Will you just take a breath? Please? I know you’re worried but if you worry yourself sick, it’s not gonna do anyone any good” 

“What am I supposed to do then Rooster?” she snapped tears coming to her eyes once again “I….I don’t know how all of you can just sit in there and do fucking nothing!” she raised her voice “god I would love to just sit and do nothing but I-... I-” as she tried to finish her sentence her body began to shake, Rooster pulled her into another hug “I still have so many things I have to tell him… things I wanna do with him…. I can’t-.... I can’t lose him” she sobbed into his chest.

The two stood in silence before the heard the door to the entrance open, “Captain’s back” Coyote’s voice filled the air before the door closed again.

Pulling away from each other, Y/N wiped away the tear stains on her cheeks, taking a few breaths. 

“Are you gonna be okay?” Bradley placed a hand on her shoulder. She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as they made their way back into the waiting area. Moving back over to the team, Y/N took her place beside Phoenix, locking her arm with hers, giving her an apologetic look for leaving as she did moments before. To which Natasha just nodded before the two turned their attention to Maverick, who shot the two women a sad smile, before turning back to the majority of the team.

“Bob’s still in surgery, all the guy could tell me was that he had a brain bleed from the impact of the canopy and he’s having a craniotomy… they said it's gonna be another 2 or 3 hours. So if you all want to stay feel free, but if you want to go home and get some rest I understand. Admiral Simpson has granted everyone here time off for the week, and I will be staying and giving updates out to those who choose to go home” with that Maverick turned to hunker down in a chair.

Out of the whole team Y/N, Phoenix, Hangman, and Rooster had opted to stay with Maverick. As the time passed the team found themselves coping in any way they could.

Pete had taken to drawing small scribbles onto a notepad that he had found in the waiting area, trying to forget that the last time he was a part of an injury this bad was with Goose.

Y/N found herself biting and tugging at her nails, it wasn’t supper bad at first till she let out a sight hiss as she pulled at a hangnail. 

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1,122 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

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(A/N god the longest tag is a rant)

[asxgard]

I wanted something where Abbott gets involved with a younger resident — maybe everyone in the ER knows about it, except the interns, since it’s their first day. Maybe the resident doesn’t like Trinity’s style, and Trinity goes to complain to Jack, but Jack defends his resident.

In Your Defense | one shot

Dr. Jack Abbot x f!resident!reader

Requested

Summary: After getting on your nerves all day, you and Santos finally go toe-to-toe over a patient. Jack comes to your defense.

[ My Masterlist ]

Note: I’ve been floating around ideas of my own of Jack with a resident👀so this was fun!

Sorry it took a bit! I got distracted with a few other things, and I wanted to make sure Companionship got out yesterday. Plus, this became a lot longer than I originally intended. I hope you like it @mayabbot !

Word Count: 2.7k

Most of my works are 18+ due to adult language and content.

Warnings: age gap, semi-established relationship, foul language, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies, mild Santos hate due difference in style, Pittfest

not beta read

The thing about Dr. Jack Abbot was, you did not need a label to know what you meant to him. There was no officiality of a title, even though you were both serious about each other — but frankly, the title was just a word. You knew where you stood, spending nights in his apartment and cooking breakfast together. He never hesitated to remind you that you belonged to him. Not in the overly possessive way, but in the silent always there type of way.

Jack had a past, and while you never pushed, he opened slowly. He had held you out of reach for some time before you realized what was truly brewing between you, and after he began to share, you thought the slow, quiet way you existed around each other was enough. He had loved and lost, he had fought and sacrificed, so you always assured him there was no rush. Not with you. You supposed there would be something to be said when you finished your residency, since that was a big priority in your life, but that was still a year away.

Like most things, your relationship with Jack did not stay secret for long in the halls of the Pitt. You really should have known better — Princess and Perlah were bloodhounds when it came to sniffing out things like that, and the bet did little to keep it private. You were unsure who had started it, but you were surprised that it was Robby who had walked away with the money. It felt like cheating, since he had insider knowledge after catching the two of you at a bar, but you never said anything.

Waking up in his bed alone was not uncommon — since after your dayshifts you sometimes would just wander to his apartment as opposed to your own. You would curl into his sheets and his smell, even when he would not be home all night. He never minded, and frankly even encouraged it. Working opposite shifts than him cut back on time you had together, but you knew it was only a matter of time before you were back on nights due to your flip-flopping schedule.

He looked worn down when you arrived at the Pitt for your shift, bright-eyed from a full night's rest in his bed. He followed you into the staff lounge so you could put your lunch away and he poured a bit of coffee to top off your thermos.

“Is it a ‘good morning’ type of morning, or a quiet ‘let me contemplate’ type of morning?”

He pursed his lips, “Neither. I lost a vet last night, spent two hours coding him.”

You sucked in a breath, knowing it had been a rough one for him. Those nights were far and few between, but never handled them very well. He was getting better, but oftentimes, he found himself on the roof.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” You said, knowing there was not much to say that would actually make it feel any better. “I made dinner last night, I left some leftovers in your fridge.”

He nodded, “At least we’ll have tonight and tomorrow together.”

You smiled, “I’m looking forward to it. Meet at yours?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

You chuckled, “Go get some rest, old man.”

An eyebrow rose in a challenge, “You won’t be saying that later.”

You smirked, “Counting on it.”

He gave you a rushed kiss on the lips, ensuring it was quick and private, before he was out the door. You sipped on your coffee and let out a long sigh, moving towards the charge desk and greeting Dana with a grin.

You let out a low whistle when you looked up at the board, “Damn, they got hammered last night.”

Frank Langdon stepped beside you to lean against the desk, “Why do I have a feeling you’re going to say the Q word? Don’t you dare, or I swear to god.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “It was one time over a year ago. Who do I look like? Shen? I’m no longer an amatuer.”

“I’m so glad I don’t work with him much. He’s like a walking jinx at this point.”

“He’s not so bad.” You laughed, “I see we got some newbies.”

Langdon glanced over his shoulder, “Two med students, an intern and an R2.”

“Oh, fun.”

—

You learned all the new faces over the course of the next hour. You found you liked the med students well enough, and the R2, Melissa King, but the intern was beginning to rub you the wrong way. Calloused and indifferent did not mesh well in the chaos of the Pitt, or the team player attitude Robby always tried to instill in everyone.

Santos was the type of person you had vehemently disliked during your med student rotations, and after hearing a few cruel nicknames she had picked for Whitaker and Javadi, you brought it to Langdon’s attention. According to Jack, Langdon had walked into the Pitt with the same type of overconfident attitude, and Robby had taken him under his wing and straightened him out. Maybe you thought he would pass on the wisdom. Not to mention, it took the drama off your plate. You had enough worries keeping your relationship with Jack away from Gloria’s ears, and the last thing you wanted to do was get in the middle of something.

“Trust me, I hear you. She already ordered something without clearing it with me first.”

Your nose scrunched in annoyance, “We don’t need someone like that down here.”

“Maybe you could let her shadow you…” he said, a smile growing as your annoyance did. “Show her the ropes. You know, that whole no-nonsense but still empathetic thing you’ve got going on might be right up her alley. You’d be a wonderful teacher.”

You deadpanned, “You owe me. Like super, major—”

“You’re the best!”

You wished you had gone to Collins instead.

Try as you did, the brashness of Santos did not quell under your careful hand and you grew more frustrated with her poor bedside manner and knack for doing things before clearing them. Just when you stepped away to use the restroom, she ordered BPAP for one of your patients and nearly killed him. Yelling was not in your wheelhouse, nor was letting something like this get the better of you, but as the shift ticked on, your fuse grew shorter. Screaming would be the worst teaching tool, but she seemed to railroad over any and all of your advice.

You passed her off to Mohan to take an hour seeing your own patients without Santos’ shadow. At the end of the hour, Mohan only gave you a knowing glance before getting back to it. By the time you went to complain to Langdon, he had disappeared. Just a bit after that, Robby sent Collins home.

Taking a deep breath, you pep-talked yourself into holding it in until the end of your shift. Then you could pass the news on to Robby and go home to forget about it.

—

When the mass casualty event was called, you fiddled with your hands, rubbing anxious circles on one of your palms. The shift had beat you up and left you out to dry, and you knew you were not likely to get out on time. Anxiety thrummed through your system, or perhaps it was the anticipation

Jack’s face was a welcomed one and you wanted to thank whoever you could that he had showed up when he did, a mess of supplies from his truck. With both Robby and Jack at the head of this, you knew the team would get through it. One patient at a time.

Robby placed you in the pink zone, with instructions to float over to yellow if they needed help. Jack found you in the supply closet trying to grab what you could to prepare for the influx in your zone, and he seemed to read you like your shift had been written on your face.

The braindead boy who no one could help. The drowned little girl no one could have saved. Dana being punched by an angry patient, which set your teeth on edge. The anguished screams of grieving family members. Your frustration with the cocky intern. Langdon abandoning you. Collins going home early. The anticipation of all the blood and loss that was sure to be waiting for you as soon as the first cars arrived with the Pittfest victims.

He squeezed your hand, “Find me if you need anything. I got you.”

There it was, that silent, all-knowing ‘always here’ anchor you had needed given in just a few simple words and a giant gesture. You smiled at him and squeezed his back, exhausted and relieved all at once.

You kicked it into gear, getting to work in your zone. Trying to ignore the tragedy around you and just focus on the medicine was easier said than done, especially getting more and more covered in blood as the shift dragged on. It truly was a blur, except for the fact that each patient was clear as day in your head.

Intubating, assessing, applying pressure to wounds, checking on the status of the operating rooms for your more critical patients, forwarding a few to red. Rinse. Repeat. A never ending cycle of carnage.

Mel whizzed past you and you looked back down at your patient, checking his pulse points. He was as stable as he was going to get, and you waved McKay over to him so you could run by yellow zone to see if they needed anything.

Whitaker’s wide eyes greeted you, “She’s doing a REBOA.”

You stopped dead, “What? Who?”

His eyes looked over to Santos, who was leaning over a patient. All the blood rushed from your head, anger and fear tangling together.

Mel was beside you then, tapping her fingers together in an anxious fashion, “I told her—I tried—“

You swallowed before rushing forward. She had already inserted the balloon, and there was not much you could do. You had only done one before, during a mass pile up over a year before, but it was under Jack’s careful supervision.

“Are you insane?” You hissed low, trying not to cause a scene.

Santos only glanced at you, “Patient was bleeding out, need to—“

“No, no, no, no.” Something snapped and all the frustration you had been feeling all day came barreling out of you. “What you need to do, Dr. Santos, is clear shit like this with your senior resident. With an attending. Literally anyone else. Mel already told you no and what do you do? This is how people die. Doctors feeding their own fucking egos and not letting themselves be checked.”

She simply stared at you, “It’s already—“

“No, this was rash.” You glanced down at the patient, seeing that the balloon was likely already in place, but from Donnie’s grim features, the patient was not doing much better. “If it worked? Amazing, great. You saved a patient. But if you keep doing this shit, someone is going to die. You’re not as infallible as you seem to think you are.”

You felt him before you saw him, a once calming presence now beside you and it made all your hairs stand on end. Like you had been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

At the hospital, he was your attending, you were the resident and you definitely should not have lost your cool like that in the middle of the shitstorm that was already occurring. You physically braced yourself, steeling your composure and trying not to wince. Jack did not scold in public, but you had made a scene.

Jack’s attention had been pulled away from his patient at a particular voice carrying through the air, growing louder as it continued. Your voice. Unmistakable and in the chaos, completely unnerving. It was not like you to shout, or yell, especially in the mess the Pitt had found itself in. He was walking towards your voice without even thinking about it, gait rushed but not running.

“She performed a REBOA.” Mel told Jack as he approached, eyeing each of you warily. “I told her not to.” She gestured to you. “She told her not to.”

You felt Jack’s eyes on your face, and you glanced over to him. He took in your features and looked back to Santos.

“A REBOA? Are you shitting me?”

“Dr. Abbot, I couldn’t get any of the attendings and the patient was bleeding out. No other options.” Santos told him, looking at you again. “I don’t think her yelling about it, or at me right now is exactly—“

“She is a resident and you are an intern. You never should have done that on your own, ever.”

You blinked, half surprised, half thankful. You never wanted your relationship with him to bleed into the professional act you two played whenever you were in the hospital. You never wanted him to play favorites or defend you when you didn’t deserve it. But a part of you relished in him supporting you. Especially after dealing with her going over your head your entire shift.

Two nightshift nurses — Alma and Riley — and Donnie exchanged knowing glances, hiding their smirks well, while Santos just stood there. Jack looked back to you and raised an eyebrow, asking if you were okay without any words.

You gave him the tiniest of nods, likely not to be seen as anything more than a twitch, but Jack caught it easily. You were okay, for the most part anyway. You could talk to him about all of it later. You hoped this could all be behind you soon, as mild embarrassment for yelling in the ED crept up your cheeks. You would pass along the information to Robby and let him handle it. He would be likely to scold you for losing your cool and yelling like he had earlier with Langdon, who was now back floating through zones with little explanation as to why he had left.

Santos looked between you two like she was trying to read you.

Jack had his focus back on the patient, asking Donnie for her vitals.

“Carotid’s weak. Radial’s barely there.” Donnie said.

“Another three cc’s in the balloon.” Jack advised and Santos followed the instruction.

Whitaker looked up, “Radial’s much stronger now.”

“Lock the balloon. Check the wound.”

“Wound’s dry, barely a trickle.”

“That’s because there’s no blood going to her legs.” Mel whispered from beside you.

“Get IR and Vascular on the case.”

The patient began coming to, opening her eyes and looking around her tiredly. There was a relief in the sight, but the fact that this would only make Santos more bold in the future made you worry.

Jack leaned in close to Santos, “That was reckless and could have killed the patient. You need to follow the chain of command here.”

Santos gave a tense nod, her tiny smile disappearing.

You stepped away when Jack did, finding a few moments when you pulled off your gown to replace it with a fresh one. He stepped behind you to tie it while you reached for new gloves.

“It’s been a shift.” You explained simply, not even needing him to open his mouth. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

“We can talk about it later.”

You turned to face him, “No, if you’re going to scold me, I’d rather you do it now. Get it out of the way.”

He studied your face. “Can’t change anything now. She did save the patient, but she could've just as easily made it worse. And you lost it for a minute. You know as well as anyone that yelling achieves nothing.”

You cringed, remembering your med school days.

“But you weren’t wrong.” He added, grabbing your arm and forcing you to look at him. “She took an unnecessary risk and hopefully next time, will try to find an attending, or a resident. I’ll mention it to Robby, maybe he can help her get back on track. The Pitt doesn’t need any more egos, I think we’re at capacity.”

A small smirk broke through on your lips, “Thank you.”

“You feel good enough to get back to it?” He raised a careful eyebrow.

You took a breath and nodded. You parted without ceremony, heading back to your respective zones and got lost in the work.

want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Dr. Abbot taglist: @flyinglama @valhallavalkyrie9 @melancholyy-hill @travelingmypassion @yournerdmodziata @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @artsymaddie @partofthelouniverse

The Pitt taglist: @cannonindeez @spoiledflor @kittenhawkk @nessamc @thatchickwiththecamera @sharkluver @loud-mouph @ksyn-faith @sunfairyy @dragonsondragons @mischiefsemimanaged

Did my own feelings about Santos bleed into this? …maybe. She grew on me, but oh my god she really was getting on my last nerve for most of this season. I hope season 2 comes with some growth from her.

[writercole]

One-Shots

*All readers are AFAB unless otherwise noted.

Targeted - Jensen Ackles x Fem!Reader (non-romantic)

Paying the Price - Jensen Ackles x Fem!Reader x Danneel Ackles

An Unexpected Matchmaker - Vet!Jensen Ackles

The First Customer - Nurse!Alex Calvert

Soul Food - Dean x Benny

It’s A Trap - Bela Talbot x Arthur Ketch (working)

Girl’s Night In - Jody x Donna (platonic)

Take A Bow - Dean x GN!Reader (heavy angst)

Not Again - Dean x Unnamed Female ; Sam Voyeur 

Work Perks - Dean x Sam x Charlie x F!Reader

Comfort Me - Danneel x Reader

Captive - Dean Winchester x Reader - Superhero AU

Le Feu Follet - Dean x Reader 

Born on the Bayou - Benny x Reader

Transitions - Transgender Sam

Sunshine & Rainbows - Dark Kaia

Unscripted - Dean Winchester x Reader

Whoops - Donna Hanscum

Orphaned - Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester

My Brother’s Keeper - Sam Winchester, Rowena, MoC!Dean (Mentioned)

It’s You - Sam Winchester x Reader

Token of Thanks - Cas x Reader

Why Am I A Girl - Sam x Reader

Enchanted - Dean x Reader

Brother Knows Best - Sam x Sister!Reader, Dean x Sister!Reader

What A Girl Wants - Dean x Reader

Never Too Late - Dean, Cas, Ruby, Jack, Reader

Yes, Mistress - Sub!Dean

Lazy Day - Dean x Reader

Just My Imagination - Sam Winchester x Reader

Take Two - Sam x Reader (platonic), Dean x Reader, Sam x Jess

Visions - Sam, Dean

Again and Again - Demon Dean

Just Feels Right - Mechanic!Dean x Teacher!Reader

My Reason - Dean Winchester x OC Brandy

Fast Cars & Freedom - Dean Winchester

Sunshine & Whiskey Kisses - Sam Winchester

Helping Paws - Dean Winchester feat. Archer the Husky

Traditions - Team Free Will

Our First Real Christmas - Sam & Dean Winchester

I Get Off - Stalker!Dean x Reader

She’s Gone - Dean Winchester x Reader

On Bended Knee - Dean Winchester x Reader

Sunrise, WY - The Winchester Gang

Light Me Up - Dean Winchester x Reader

Fated Mistakes - Alpha!Dean Winchester

Five Minutes More - Gamer!Dean Winchester

Bake My Breath Away - Baker!Sam Winchester

Steely-Eyed Missile Man - Bucky x Natasha (best friends)

The Howling Wolf - Bucky x Reader

Hiccups - Bucky x Sam x Reader

Somethin’ Stupid - Bucky Barnes

Dinner with the Parents - Frank Castle

Playdate - Frank Castle

Stardust - Clint Barton

The Devil Don’t Sleep - Soft!Dark Priest!Matt Murdock

Slow Hand - Matt Murdock

Come Away With Me - Priest!Matt Murdock

Hum - Matt Murdock

Challenge Accepted - Tony Stark

In Vino Veritas - Tommy Shelby (Peaky Blinders)

You Knew - John Shelby (Peaky Blinders)

Call 911 - Harley Quinn & Poison Ivy

Crashing Down - Opie Winston x Reader

Picking Up The Pieces - Opie Winston x Reader

Just The Way You Are - Filip ‘Chibs’ Telford x Reader

Holding Out Hope - Bodyguard!Opie Winston

Bad Girl - Chibs Telford x Reader

Blood & Ash - Jason Todd aka Red Hood (DC Batverse)

Just Desserts - Jason Todd aka Red Hood (DC Batverse)

Satin & Lace - Jason Todd aka Red Hood (DC Batverse)

The Kingslayer and the Milkmaid - Jaime Lannister (Game of Thrones)

Priority Request - Poe Dameron x GN Reader

The Girl Next Door - Bones McCoy

Just a Memory - Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw

Whispered Promises - Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

Look What You Made Me Do - Rhett Abbott

My Bloody Fright Trail - Tom Hanniger (My Bloody Valentine)

My Way or the Highway - Boaz Priestley (Ten Inch Hero)