#WHY TAG FIX IT IF IT IS IN FACT NOT FIXED

[erwinsvow]

𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞

summary: jack abbot thinks he's too broken to fix. you just want to take care of him the way he takes care of you.

author's note: here it is! the first longer night shift reader and jack fic ♡ i hope everyone enjoys!

word count: 3.7k

tags: night shift reader x attending jack, comfort and angst, people are making bets (guess who wins!), patient death/loss, age gap relationship (implied but no ages specified!), idk i went a little crazy for two hours

it’s not an easy thing to take care of him. 

he knows that. there haven’t been that many people in his life who have been able to manage it. his wife was one, robby’s sort of another. jack has this thing—he has to at least try to take care of those around him before he can accept any of their help for himself. it’s almost a test of worth, to determine that it’s not a burden he’s placing unduly on anyone. it’s an exchange, he decides, a fair exchange. that way he’s not forcing anyone, because he knows how hard it is, how hard it can be. robby sees a side of it. his wife saw another.

and out of the black, heading into the blue, you are beginning to see it. he doesn’t know how it happened this way, just knows that the sweet resident who had come onto his night-shift because the day shift was beginning to be too much, was now the very reason he doesn’t head straight up to the roof after a very, very long night. 

he knows it’s not easy, that every time he loses a patient, he glances at the clock. the moment someone’s life was over, and the very moment that is going to ruin the lives of all the people who loved them. before he’d start the countdown—how many hours left on this shift? how many until he can go to the roof and breathe, scream and yell and sit in silence and watch the city wake up beneath him. 

it’s selfish. he momentarily checks out after time of death is called. robby does moments of reflections. maybe that’s how he’s able to manage it sometimes, break up the grief into little pieces throughout the day. 

jack isn’t like that. he’s always been the kind to bury, nestle it somewhere deep inside and keep adding, adding, adding. add until it’s about to burst, and then go to the roof and let some of it out. maybe if he tried robby’s way, he wouldn’t have felt like this for so long.

where can so much grief go? there’s no outlet for it, not the way jack does it. some of the things he buries are lost inside him forever, no escape, no exit.

and then you come along. 

jack’s prided himself in the fact that he’s good to the residents. they get more confident under his tutelage, make decisions more firmly, make them quickly and execute them correctly. that’s why robby had sent you over to him, hadn’t it? because you doubted yourself too much. because you felt like you weren’t making the right call.

from seven in the morning to seven at night, the place is crowded. it’s all hands on deck but there’s just a smidge too many hands, especially when there’s students. you were able to blend into the background for a couple months, but it’s just plainly wrong to let it hinder your education.

that’s why robby had sent you to him, right? for your education. to make you a better doctor, better than you already were, which was saying something. 

because jack abbot thinks that you’re incredibly gifted. gifted in the things that he can’t teach someone, in ways that he can’t explain. you have a special touch. patient-care is your forte. if he had to pick the nicest resident, it would be you. but you don’t believe in yourself. 

and he had sent himself to the task of fixing that. it’s what jack does, what he’s always done. patch it up and send it out.

(you’re a little different—he wants to make you believe in yourself more. he wants you to prove it to yourself. make yourself say it and mean it, not just because he’s telling you. that you are capable, that you were meant for this. that this is where you belong. that you have a safety net in the form of your attending—that he’ll be there with an outstretched arm, waiting incase you need him. you won’t, he knows. but you still need to feel him there. it’s working, he knows it is.)

it had been working perfectly fine so far. you build your routine, get yourself settled, start answering trauma calls with a run. 

one time he has you and ellis start the incoming together. tells parker to ask you questions, justify all of your decisions to her, but let you call the shots. when the charge nurse tells you the details, you head straight outside. you pull a yellow gown for yourself and the gloves in your size—those ones are baby blue. and then you pull another gown and the black gloves—the ones in his size. he watches from the nurse’s station, watches ellis take them and watches you look around, like you’re waiting for him to show up. he doesn’t, not this time.

you handle the case perfectly. oddly enough, he can’t seem to remember any of the specifics about it, even though he’s the one who signed off on your detailed note. 

jack watches from the door. you’ve got your back to him, and ellis looks up and sees him, but he shakes his head. he wants to see how you do without him, after so many with him. and you’re perfect—just like he knew you would be. the nurses move in tandem around you, listening closely to your orders. ellis asks questions and you answer, and you don’t sound like your answers are questions themselves—though you had at one point, not too long ago. 

that’s something he’d worked you out of, he thinks, a certain smugness seeping into his veins, satisfaction rolling through every muscle. 

you look out the other door, the opposite of where he’s standing. you stretch your neck like you’re trying to see what’s out there, and then you turn your attention back to your patient right away.

and once the patient is stable, that’s when he comes in. you’re doing it again, looking out the wrong door and as much as he wants to deny it, as wrong as it is, he knows you’re looking for him.

“good work, doctor,” he says, and you jump a little. you turn to look at him, but he’s looking at your senior resident for the assessment.

“dr. abbot, i-” 

“she did great,” parker comments, and you stop to beam at her.

“thank you.” ellis peels off her gloves and gown, black gloves that had been meant for him going into the bin. she gives you further instructions and you nod, and when it’s just the two of you, he finally turns to meet your eyes.

and the way you smile at him blows him away. it’s all over your face—from your gleaming eyes to the cheeks that must hurt, the lips that he can’t stop thinking about. there’s something else there too. neither of you want to say it, though you try.

“thank you, dr. abbot. i-” the words falter and die on your tongue. but in your joy, how pleased you are with yourself for once, you find the confidence he’s been wanting you to have all along. “i was looking for you.”

and jack swallows hard. it’s one thing to have a flirtation, to teach you, to mentor you. to make you cups of coffee and tea and buy a box of those protein bars that you like the best, because the other ones taste weird. to defend your yellow cup with his best glare, to stop in the aisle at costco and buy a duplicate pair just incase he ever needs to replace it. you love that yellow mug, and well, he loves—

“dr. abbot? you okay?” 

and it’s normally him asking you that.

“i’m fine, kid. you did great.” 

“so did you.” 

-

when jack walks by dana at around seven-ten, her and the other nurses go remarkably silent. 

“yes?” he asks, grabbing the black thermos from the counter where he’d been finishing his notes. it’s also from costco—chipped and bent all over the place, little flecks of silver making an appearance around the bottom. you’d made a joke about it once—even your cup is salt and pepper. and now he thinks about it every time he picks it up.

“what? i didn’t say anything,” dana replies, settling an ipad back in the charging port, moving around papers at the station. “but just so you know, the pool’s up to three hundred.”

jack sets his cup down a little harder than he means to, forearms resting on the sterile counter.

“what pool?” he demands, and dana shrugs. if he didn’t love her so much he would kill her.

“i’m just saying. if you’d like to help your favorite nurse contribute to her retirement fund, then you can—”

“oh? i can what?” 

it’s just not this easy for him anymore. you are full of all the good things that he so clearly lacks, made of so much sunshine it’s pouring out of you. you have love in stores, ready to be doled out at any time, to anyone. patients, coworkers, even the medical students you just met a couple minutes ago. he hears you—offering the flashcards you made for boards and the interview tips that got you to match at your top choice. 

he is entirely unworthy of your love. he knows it, deep down. loving him would break you. trying to piece him back together would drain you dry. and he doesn’t want to do that to you, you deserve better. maybe he can take care of you at work, but outside of these four walls, if you saw what he was like with idle hands and an empty apartment, or if you saw him up on that roof-

“dr. abbot?” 

your voice seems to always be enough to snap him out of it. 

“goodbye, dana,” he says, walking up next to you, thermos in hand. your eyes briefly glance down at it, smiling. “what’s going on, kid?” 

“remember what you had said? about breakfast?” and you smile at him like getting breakfast with jack abbot sounds like the great thing in the world right now. it’s almost seven-thirty and you probably haven’t slept in fifteen hours, and yet you keep smiling, big eyes blinking at him while you wait patiently for an answer.

“yeah.” he clears his throat, looking back at dana momentarily. she’s smiling at him, and then she turns to smack the side of robby’s arm, pointing him the direction of you two. “that sounds great. after you.” 

he shouldn’t have said yes. he knows what’ll happen if you start thinking that you can fix whatever is wrong with jack abbot, and he would like to avoid that entirely. but you beam at him again like you had earlier with ellis, and jack is a lot of things, but one thing is he is not, is a jerk. he won’t disappoint you about this, not when he’s secretly relieved you’re eating after shift. he’s seen you with sugary granola bars and pastries when you should be filling up on protein after a shift like this.

so he follows you out, ignoring the exchange of money behind him. 

breakfast is nice. you get chocolate-chip pancakes and he makes you get eggs too, and then hands you strips of bacon from his plate too. he hasn’t seen you like this before, and he tries to soak it into his memory. 

(something deep inside says that he should cut the tether before you get too attached. it’ll only hurt more to prolong it, to let it linger. the possibility of something between the two of you. and then you offer him a bite of a pancake drenched in syrup and everything in his head goes silent.)

breakfast becomes a weekly recurrence. there’s a twenty-four seven diner he loves just up the road from the hospital, and he’s been before with shen once, robby a couple times if their schedules lined up. it’s not particularly unusual to see him there with you, though he feels like he’s committing some sort of a crime.

you wear pullovers from your alma mater. the backpack you bring to work is the same one you used all four years of college and medical school, a fact you are very proud of. when he looks at it—his chest hurts. it’s hardly worn, looks like it’s in great condition—a couple of pins tacked on the side where your water bottle sits and a pocket for your badge and wallet in the front. he has to force himself to remember that you’re younger than any woman he’s seriously talked to before. his wife had been two months older than him, something he used to tease her about all the time. 

would you do that? would you tease him about the age difference? or would you prefer to ignore it, set it aside and try to forget about it? it’s a heavy question for breakfast after twelve hours on. 

you take him to another place that you like, too, closer to your apartment. you both eat bagels and sip on juice—orange for him, apple for you—and that’s where you learn more about his time as a medic. the breakfast burrito place near the park is where you tell him about how you’ve wanted to be a doctor since you were twelve, that you thought you’d had a calling for pediatrics and you’d even been the president of the peds club in medical school. and then you’d rotated through the emergency department third year and completely changed your plan.

you share a stack of waffles—chocolate chip with strawberries and whipped cream, at your insistence. he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to say no to you, not when you ask him so sweetly. he learns about your kitten and how you’ve always been scared that you’re going to do the wrong thing and until very recently, that you’ve just been playing pretend and you’ll get caught one day. 

and back at the diner is where he tells you about his wife. and you listen intently and nod and hold his hands when his voice breaks and run your fingers over his knuckles. you don’t let go of his hand the entire walk back to your apartment, and outside the door, you give him a hug. and the two of you stay like that for a while. that’s when you and jack kiss for the first time. slow, steady, a kiss that you’ve been dreaming of for months. it takes all the air out of your lungs and when you finally go inside, you realize your shoulder is a little wet and your lips are swollen. 

even hours later, jack can still taste apple juice on his tongue.

another week after that, you both answer the incoming trauma together. it’s six-thirty, so someone might come and take over, but it doesn’t work out that way. it’s a man who got t-boned at an intersection on the way to school drop-off. his wife and daughter are getting their cuts stitched, you think, and the patient had been slurring at you when he came in. thank god i put her behind her mom today. thank god, thank god- and jack does something he doesn’t always do. 

“get the mom, get the kid. let-let them talk.” 

and while you do the ultrasound and the e-fast and order for type and cross-match, you hear his daughter crying and a wife telling her husband how much she loves him. 

and you and jack try everything, everything you can think of, but sometimes, there’s just no coming back. he doesn’t even make it to surgery. jack walks out first, and then you, and you see his daughter turn away from the medical student that’s tending to her wound, standing up with hopeful eyes like you and jack have good news for her.

and you feel incredibly broken. your day hasn’t even started yet. and you lock eyes with jack for a second—just a second, and he stares back at you, hardened, in a way you haven’t seen before. you’ve both lost patients, lost patients together. sometimes it’s just different, in a way that you can’t explain. 

it must have been an hour, an hour and a half you spent in the trauma room. the entire day shift is there now. 

“head home, kid,” jack says. “i’ll talk to the family.” 

you bring your hand to his shoulder, pulling back until he turns to face you. 

“i’ll talk to the family.” 

it’s not an easy thing to take care of. he tries to tell you something but you shake your head at him, the hand on his shoulder lingering. people are looking, he thinks. but then again, he’s never cared that much. and in this moment, neither do you. 

you head over to the family, excuse the nurses and the student doing the stitches. you pull the curtains, and all he hears is sobbing. 

and when you come back out, he know you held it together in front of them, but your shoulders are shaking, your chin is wobbling. and in front of all those people, he brings you in for a hug. 

a real hug—like the one you had in front of your apartment. jack’s grip is tight on you, his arms caging you in, covering everything so you can’t see anything, can’t think about anything else but him. he rests his chin on your head, and closes his eyes, and then the two of you walk back to the lockers together. 

it’s not an easy thing to take care of him. and somehow, without ever telling you, you know all about how to do it. you know a lot of things about him. you know what this job does to him and that if he had gone to tell that family they lost their father and husband, that he would’ve ended up on the roof this morning. you know that jack abbot doesn’t halve any of his burdens, that he’s been afraid to rely on you like how you rely on him. to need you in the way that you need him. and you know that he won’t tell you what he needs, but you’ve gotten somewhat adept at figuring him out, just like how he has with you.

that day you leave holding hands. neither of you are in the right mood to go out for breakfast, so he elects to take you back to his apartment, an arm swung around your shoulder the entire walk there. you’re still a little teary-eyed, wiping them away at his front door while you head inside with him. 

you’ve never seen the inside of jack’s apartment, but he’s mentioned it in one of your many conversations. the record collection, his wife’s plants that he takes care of, the kitchen that’s too big for one person. 

the morning light hits the place beautifully. you stare out of his window while he heads to the kitchen, and you look around. first the records, then the plants, just like he’d described. there’s pothos and peace lily and little succulents along the windowsill. you look at the rest of it—incredibly fitting. a brown leather couch and a bookshelf with medical textbooks and a couple of mystery thrillers. you laugh to yourself, imagining jack curling up with one of those books at night.

when you turn back, he’s cracking eggs and laying out strips of bacon on the pan. you head over to the other side of the island, taking a seat on one of the stools. 

“no pancakes?”

“you’re gonna get cavities, y’know,” jack says, and you smile at him. 

“it’s worth it.”

“i love your smile the way it is right now. don’t go changing it on me.” and that does make you smile, staring at jack making breakfast for the two of you. it all feels so domestic. like you’re just walking into the life that was meant for you all along.

you’ve only been on the night shift for a couple of months. 

how could he have been so stupid? trying to fight what you did to him when it was like gravity, like the tide, like every other force in this world that he knows about and cannot control. you’re exactly where you’re meant to be, and so is he.

“mel texted me. she won the bet,” you say, setting your phone down. you lean against your hand, inhaling the smell of the first of many home-cooked meals you’ll eat, made by jack abbot.

“that so? i thought dana was a shoo-in.” 

“dana got the timing wrong. thought it’d happen during the night shift. but technically, you hugged me at eight-thirty, so..” 

“and what was the winning combo?” he stares at you, probably for the millionth time since you met him. and still, somehow, it’s enough that you feel it in your bones. you want to look away but you don’t. “you want toast, kid?” 

“yes please. she didn’t say, but i’ll ask. later.” 

you and jack settle at his wooden dining table ten minutes later, a plate full of protein and a promise that he’ll get you something sweet when you wake up later. jack lifts up his pant leg and takes off his prosthetic, setting it against the chair and relaxing a little bit more. you can see his shoulders loosen up. when he catches you staring, he smiles back.

“what?”

“nothing. do you have juice?”

“i think there’s some apple in there. i can-”

“no, i got it.” you get up, walking towards to the fridge. “i thought you didn’t like apple.” you know he doesn’t—he prefers orange. 

“i changed my mind.” you smile back at him, finding the apple juice and setting it on the counter. 

“cups?” 

“the cabinet on your right. no, your other right.”

you laugh and open it up, your laugh dying in your throat as you stare at two yellow mugs sitting front and center in the cupboard. you pick them up, bringing them over to the table with jack, and stare at him.

“oh,” he says. “i can explain. it’s incase-” but you don’t want to listen for another second, so you sit on his lap, pressing your lips together and forgetting all about breakfast and apple juice.

♡ thanks for reading!

[dxrlingluv]

I just want like....reader being giddy and giggly when having a crush on Telemachus cus that's lowkey me when someone drew him hehhehehehheheheheh👉👈

Tapestry

A/N : I love Telekinesis so much!! Telemachus art belongs to duvetbox from yt ! I am so sad. My posts don’t work on the tag “Telemachus x Reader” sighhhh

WARNING : GN!Reader, fluff

Word Count : 881

The grand hall of Ithaca was, as always, a place of bustling activity. Servants hurried to and fro, delivering messages, preparing meals, and attending to the myriad needs of the royal household. You, however, were currently engaged in a battle of wills with a particularly stubborn tapestry. It was a beautiful piece, depicting scenes from the life of Odysseus, but the threads seemed to have a mischievous streak, tangling and twisting at every turn. You tugged at a particularly recalcitrant loop, muttering under your breath.

"By Hera's loom," you grumbled, your brow furrowed in concentration. "This infernal thing is possessed! It's as if the gods themselves are conspiring against me and my tapestry!"

"Having a bit of trouble there, Y/N?"

That voice. Deep, warm, and laced with a hint of amusement. Your heart did a complicated series of leaps and bounds, a sort of acrobatic routine performed entirely within your chest cavity. Telemachus. He was leaning against a nearby pillar, arms crossed, his posture relaxed yet regal. The soft light filtering through the high windows illuminated his features, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the gentle curve of his lips, the intelligence that shone in his eyes. He looked every bit the prince, and you, well, you felt like a complete fool, wrestling with a tapestry like a commoner.

Your face flushed crimson, the heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks. You fumbled with the tapestry, nearly dropping the entire thing in your haste to appear composed. "Oh! Uh, Prince Telemachus," you stammered, your voice coming out in a mortifyingly high-pitched squeak. You cleared your throat, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. "Just... this tapestry. It seems to have... developed a rather independent spirit." You attempted a casual smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. Why did your words always abandon you in his presence?

He chuckled, a rich, melodic sound that resonated through the hall and sent shivers down your spine. It was a sound that could melt glaciers, a sound that made you want to abandon all pretense of composure and simply bask in its warmth. "It certainly looks like it's putting up quite a fight. Perhaps it senses your... frustration?"

He pushed himself off the pillar and took a few steps closer, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your knees weak. You could feel your pulse quickening, the blood rushing to your head. You suddenly became acutely aware of everything about your appearance: the stray strands of hair flailing out like wild animals, the smudge of dust on your tunic, the fact that you were probably still blushing like a newly ripened tomato.

"I... I have it under control," you insisted, your voice barely a whisper. You tugged at the tapestry again, this time managing to snag it on a loose thread, creating an even bigger tangle. You groaned inwardly. This was going from bad to worse.

He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, that charming smile playing on his lips. "Are you quite sure? It appears to be winning." He was teasing you, you knew, but there was a warmth in his eyes, a playful glint that made your heart flutter even faster.

"Positive!" you squeaked, then cleared your throat again, trying to sound more authoritative. "I mean, yes. Definitely. Thank you for your concern, Your Highness." You punctuated the sentence with a jerky nod, nearly losing your balance in the process.

He watched you for a moment longer, his expression a mixture of amusement and something else... something that made your stomach flip-flop. It was a look that hinted at a deeper interest, a curiosity that went beyond simple politeness.

"Very well," he said, his voice a low murmur that seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace. "But if it gets the better of you, don't hesitate to call for help. I wouldn't want you to be... overwhelmed." He paused, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary, and your breath hitched in your throat.

"And Y/N?”

"Yes?" you whispered, your voice barely audible above the frantic beating of your heart.

He hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. Then, a hint of that familiar, disarming smile returned to his face. "It's a... very impressive tapestry," he said, a hint of laughter dancing in his eyes. "I'm sure it will be... magnificent."

And then he was gone, striding out of the hall with that effortless grace that was so uniquely his, leaving you standing there in a state of utter disarray. You clutched the tangled tapestry to your chest, your mind reeling, your face burning with a blush that could rival the setting sun.

"He thinks my tapestry is magnificent," you sighed, your voice a dreamy, lovesick whisper. You knew, logically, that he was just being kind, offering a polite compliment to a struggling servant. But your heart, that treacherous, giddy organ, refused to listen to reason. It chose instead to revel in the fantasy that maybe, just maybe, Prince Telemachus saw you as more than just another face in the crowd. You were pretty sure your face was going to stay this shade of red forever, and you were perfectly okay with that.

[sleepyjackets]

so bitter <3

summary - tashi is your best friend and you live in her shadow yet art actually makes you feel important, until it's ruined

pairings - art donaldson x fem!reader, tashi duncan x fem!reader

warnings/tags - smut, eating out, submissive art, you and tashi are lowkey yearning for eachother, fem!reader, p0rn with plot, angst

a/n - i actually proofread this time but i probably missed some stuff because i'm still fighting demons (the flu)

You were Tashi’s best friend since middle school. Wherever Tashi went, you went too, and if you didn’t, then be sure she would tell you about it. You’ve heard about every boy that’s come and gone, but this time was different because there were two of them.

“They both invited me, so I’ll bring you along then you can pick which one you like, and I’ll take the other.”

Tashi says that like it’s just standard procedure while you two walk back home. Your mouth felt stuffed full of cotton and there was buzzing behind your eyes, so you were in no place to actually be listening, but you nod along.

“Yeah yeah, got it.”

“Are you drunk?” Tashi turns her head and smiles a little, purely amused.

“A little.”

“Just a little?”

Hours later, you and Tashi sit in Art and Patrick’s humid, tension-filled apartment. You two pass a beer back and forth while Patrick and Art not-so-subtly trip over their tongues, trying their best to sound interesting to Tashi. You really didn’t mind blending into the background because the feeling was so familiar.

Everything about your life has always had Tashi on the forefront. Every boy ends up being Tashi’s in the end, you play tennis but nobody cares because Tashi’s better at it, at every party you end up awkwardly hovering around her because Tashi’s the center and everyone is just a planet moving according to her rhythm.

If someone fixes their lips to call you “Tashi’s friend” one more time, you might just scream.

That’s when your thoughts are interrupted by Tashi tapping your thigh.

“You ready to go?”

You just nod and get up, more than ready to leave. Both boys scurry to their feet like desperate animals — mainly because they are in fact desperate animals.

“So can I get your number?” the brunette one says with a sleazy smile plastered on his sweat-covered face.

“Me too!”

Both of them look like pathetic puppies and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

Somehow that night landed you at the boys’ junior singles match on a very hot Saturday with Tashi. She told you that whoever won the match got her number, which explained why the blonde one was playing like a beast. It’s oddly satisfying watching his sad puppy dog eyes when Patrick is declared the winner.

“You can take Art if you want him,” Tashi adds while clapping her hands for Patrick.

“Thanks Tash, but I’m not into blondes." you joke

Weeks pass and Tashi somehow convinces you to go on a date with Art because she wants him off her back. It’s not like you were really opposed to that idea in the first place because Art is cute. Though you beg for the day when you can get a guy who’s not Tashi’s sloppy seconds.

You meet him for dinner at a bar off campus. It’s a nice place, but a little cramped if anything.

“You look great by the way,” Art says while he slides a drink over to you. His palms are sweaty, he looks like he’ll fall apart any moment, that glint in his eyes — it’s adorable.

“Thanks, you too.” You couldn’t hold back a smile.

“I’ve seen you practicing with Tashi here and there. Went to one of your matches the other day and you were amazing.”

Tashi doesn’t even go to your matches, so the thought of him going to one of yours has you squirming a little in your seat.

“You’re like in love with me.” Tashi’s lessons in flirting have come in handy.

You remember back in freshman year when she wrote you a whole essay explaining how to tease boys in a way that's lighthearted, flirty and not just mean

“You’re gorgeous — who wouldn’t be?”

Everything after that was a blur, except all you do know is the boy who ignored you for Tashi about a month ago is now kissing your neck, giving you those big sweet puppy dog eyes and begging to taste you.

You keep a grip on the back of Art’s neck and keep kissing the boy. Art kisses you like he’s been starving for you. Not Tashi, or any other girl — just you. His hand slips under your shirt, slowly moving to cup your tit. His touch is gentle, yet his hands are rough.

You don’t have control over any part of your life, which is something that has plagued you for years ever since your own parents called you “tashi's plaything”. But when you tug on Art’s hair and he lets you control where his head goes, you can’t help but let out an audible moan at the sight.

“What was that?” he asks.

“Put your head down.” No room for argument.

You push Art down to his knees. His hands slip under your skirt, and when his pointers hook around the sides of your panties, he looks up at you for permission.

“Do you want to?” A smirk makes its way across your lips.

“Please, I really do.” He presses a kiss against your thigh without breaking eye contact.

“Then do it.”

And he does. Art wastes no time pulling down your panties and shoving his face into your sweet spot. The feeling of Art’s tongue moving across your clit is euphoric. His hands make busy by sliding behind you and groping your ass. His touch is desperate and needy.

You fucking love it.

You end up coming all over Art’s pursy pink lips, but your power trip still isn’t over. Looking down at him, you mutter,

“How good was I?”

“You tasted like heaven, Tashi.”

Your smile drops and your power trip ends instantly.

“Excuse me?”

“Shit, I meant—”

“No, you didn’t mean shit. Get the fuck out my room,” you cut him off because there’s really nothing he could say to make you happy again.

After Art leaves, you sit in your dorm with makeup ruined by your tears and an old t-shirt replacing your once pretty dress. Tashi comes home from a party she told you about and looks at the state you’re in.

“Date not go so well?” she sets her bag on you two’s shared bed casually.

While her eyes scan the dorm room, she notices your discarded panties by the wall.

“Or did it go super well?” she smirks.

“He ate me out, does that count as going super well?” You tear your eyes away from the wall to look at Tashi with a half-smile.

“I’d say so.”

Tashi changes into one of your t-shirts and her own pajama shorts, then throws herself down on the bed.

“Come on Y/N, don’t be a stranger.” She moves the covers aside and grabs your arm, pulling you down.

So you two lay there like you always did before bed, but this time you hate it. You hate him and you hate Tashi. You’re bitter.

So goddamn bitter.

[wreckastowx3]

The New Girl in Town

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Original Female Character

Words: 1300k +

Summary: Jack and Original Female Character meet and work their first night shift together

Warnings/ Tags: age gap (takes place before season 1 so jack is around 47 and Dionne is about 27), fluff , some medical jargon (apologies in advance for any inaccuracies)

Other series parts:

Take Me With You

Dr. Abbot and Dr. Robby exchanged their usual pleasantries before getting down to business and discussing the pertinent patient information before shift change.

“Oh and Dr. Davis the new fellow is starting on nights today. I think you’ll like her.” Robby looked away from the board giving his full attention to the night shift attending.

“I’ll like her…?” Jack questioned

“You two will work well together. She’s smart, quick-witted. And speak of the devil…”

Jack followed Robby’s gaze towards the elevators. Jack’s first impression of her appearance was that she was almost too cheery for the gloom of the Emergency Department. She wore a hot pink underscrub shirt carefully matched to the scrunchie in hair and shoes on her feet. She had what seemed like 100 small tiny braids pulled back into a ponytail. Every accessory she paired with her standard issue black scrubs was color coordinated including the metal drinking cup she held in her right hand and her badge reel.

She seemed to feel Jack eyeing her up and down. Not quite sizing her up and not ogling her; just observing. Studying. One of the many things from his military training that never parted with him. She met his eyes and offered him a gentle grin.

“Dionne, have you met Dr. Abbot yet?” Robby said, trying to break the ice, noticing them staring at each other.

“No I don’t think I have. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too” he said with what could perhaps be interpreted as a smile. He wasn’t rude, just not particularly personable. He made no effort in hiding his disinterest at making small talk. Nevertheless the Mona-Lisa like smile never left the young doctor’s face. Jack stood slightly leaning his weight against the nurses station; arms crossed and gaze fixed ahead.

“I’ve been looking forward to today. I really prefer the night shift. No offense Dr. Robby you guys were great” Dionne said with a slight chuckle

“None taken”

“I’m gonna go put my stuff away” she smiled once more and made her way to the staff lockers. There was a lightness and bounciness to how she walked uncommon for ED staff much less a doctor.

More of the night shift began to trickle in as the hour crawled closer to 7. Dr. Ellis and Dr. Shen were early as usual. They soon made their way to the newbie and began getting to know each other.

The small group that had formed had exchanged pleasantries and began asking each other's backgrounds and other small talk. Through the whole interaction Dr. Abbot’s eyes were fixed on Dionne. Small things he was making a mental note of. Her posture was impeccable but less rigid than a soldier. Perhaps she was a ballerina or some sort of dancer in the past. A gentle smile was her resting face, warm and approachable but not inauthentic. Jack wasn’t sure why he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She, for some strange reason, intrigued him. He rarely was interested in learning the intricacies of his colleagues personal lives except what was relevant to their jobs. Such as prior training or education. But there was something about her that piqued his interest.

In addition to the fact that she looked like a doctor Barbie doll. The words ‘Doctor Barbie’ made him let out a low chuckle. Even several feet away she heard it. She briefly cut her eyes at him and raised her eyebrow.

Sharp ears. His observation was confirmed when she pivoted to face Dr. Robinavitch, hearing him approaching.

“Goodnight Dr. Robby” she said sweetly

“Goodnight. Good luck with Grumpy,” he looked towards Dr. Abbot who was still staring at Dionne from the other side of the nurses station, “if he gives you too much trouble we’ll be happy to have you back on days”

“I’ll be fine” she laughed

It was a quiet night in the emergency department, much to the chagrin of the staff. More patients made the 12 hour shift move faster. Sure there were patients but it was routine. Someone who tripped in the dark,the Saturday night drunks, parents with their feverish and cranky children. Nothing out of the ordinary. None of them would ever verbalize it, but they sort’ve despised this kind of calm. This stillness. What drew them to the ED was the action, the noise, the chaos. In a way the relationship between them and their patients was symbiotic.

Dr. Abbot especially. His therapist was right in noting that the night shift served as a form of escapism for him. The constant whir and beeping of machinery, the first responders rushing in patients, the codes announced via intercom. The busyness that kept his mind occupied.

“Lucky you, you’re getting a quiet first night.” John said leaning against the Hub desk

“John!” Parker said sternly

“What?” he shrugged before taking a long sip of his iced coffee that was more or less just room temperature water with a hint of coffee at that hour.

Not even a minute later Nurse Lena announced an incoming patient

“The patient is hyponatremic with a sodium of 125. Dr. Shen?” Dr. Abbot asked

“Start a line of 3% saline”

“Too high” Dionne interjected more as a reflex than meaning to correct Dr. Shen. Technically as a Fellow she had every right to do so considering he was still a Senior Resident. But she wasn’t one to pull rank. Especially not on her first night shift or in front of the attending.

“Elaborate” Dr. Abbot said, eyes boring into her.

“Normal sodium is 135 - 145 if we administer 3% saline we risk bringing the patient’s sodium up too fast. Too quick of a correction presents the risk of central pontine myelinolysis, or cpm. Rare but possible and potentially fatal.”

“Good catch” he nodded with a small grin.

Dionne updated the patient’s chart typing a mile a minute. The rapid clicking caught Dr. Abbot's attention and he made his way over.

“Yes Dr. Abbot” She said eyes still glued to the screen in front of her.

Because of the breakneck speed her fingers were moving he wasn’t expecting the words on the screen to be accurate. Let alone as detailed as she was making her notes. No details were spared, he was impressed.

“How fast can you type?” he asked. His arm was resting on the desk and he was leaning slightly over her shoulder. She didn’t seem to notice as she continued working.

She only stopped, for a split second, to answer his question, “60 words per minute on a good day.” she smiled full of pride.

“Nice” he grinned before leaving her to her work.

Finally having a free moment to eat Dionne shimmied her lunchbox out of the fridge and began eating the jar of chia seed pudding she packed.

“Is everything you own pink?” Jack teased. He was eyeing the pink lunchbox, containers, and stethoscope around her neck.

“If it comes in pink, why would I buy it in another color?” she replied putting on a valley girl accent.

The pair laughed for a moment before eating their respective snacks. Jack opted for a protein bar that, based on looks alone, couldn't possibly taste good.

Moments after Dionne repacked her bag and placed it back in the fridge Nurse Lena was in the doorway of the staff lounge

“Dr. Abbott we need you in Trauma One”

“Coming. Barbie you’re with me on this one” he didn’t mean for the nickname to slip out but Dionne didn't seem to mind

“Sir, yes sir” she replied following right behind Jack

Dionne stretched and let out a yawn, happy her 12 hour shift was finally over. She made her way to the elevator, stopping to say bye to Jack and Michael.

“She survived the night” Dr. Robby said laughing

“That she did,” Dionne agreed, speaking in third person. “Bye Dr. Robby. See you later Dr. Abbot” saying both of their names in a sing-song voice and practically skipping to the elevator.

He’d never admit it but he was somewhat impatiently awaiting his turn to work by her side again.

[violetdisasterzone]

just read a fic that pissed me off so bad I muted the author. this is a first

[dewwshi]

The people demand more Minlach. ( please more we are desperate and your art of them is so good 🥺🥺🥺)

🫡

my beautiful yuri... sooo critical to me that minthara 1. fell first 2. fell harder. something abt the idea of this self-avowed villain being utterly and inexplicably smitten with the sweetest nicest golden retriever girl in the world

[tackykachowch]

S2: hey guys! Look at these cool new characters! They will (allegedly) help Jinx, Sevika, Vander and Silco become even more complex and-

My humble missile:

[thevalleyoftriumph]

[reupload] copycat

[cualquiere]

[hiemaldesirae]

too long has gone without me posting women. here we go more yuri radiostatic

reference for voxs dress under the cut

[aure-entuluva-2407]

@majorproblems77

BEHOLD. DAS BRUDERS

I cannot break the number one rule of Star Wars and post them separately. So here they are together, as it should be :D

Featuring: A totally-normal-looking Fives and Actual Ray Of Sunshine Cadet Echo, with whom I had to get creative while shading XD

Enjoy!!!

(part of this game)

hey! if you enjoy my work, please reblog it :)

[moeblob]

i have no idea where the compulsion to giver her a pokemon came from ??? but her and her minccino gotta go make sure her husband stays safe.

[the-bi-fangirl-biatch]

the entire season they've shown sylvie perpetually being okay to just walk away from the fray and getting no consequences whatsoever. which would be ok since she doesn't rlly care about them like loki does. but in the end she just moves on so fast after she watched loki isolate himself and go off JUST to fix her mistake.......

meanwhile mobius is there, frozen in that time, left behind by the person he's an "expert" on not only bc of his job but bc of their friendship, him quitting the job that was his entire life, because loki has left and his previous purpose didn't have loki anymore

it's just fucked up how everyone else got their happy endings (good for them) except for loki and mobius. they're apart, separated once again, looking miserable in their last shots. just like last season.

[sympathytea]

So this is a sequel to this post mainly because there was some crucial details in the finale that I missed, but this is specifically going to be focusing on Parrot rather than Evbo, although Evbo is still going to be part of this whole theory. Lets start.

[Transcript Start] Evbo: -My iron sword, so their swords will never break. Thats why I have to get out of here, so that I can prove to people that there is a way out! Obviously, to do that, I need to make it to level 4. But its a bit tough to do that, since theres no way to rank up apparently. Parrot: ...Wait, what do you mean theres no way to rank up? Evbo: Oh yeah! I probably should've mentioned that every time I try to rank up to a golden sword- Woah, getting up close and personal. But..yeah, theres no water at the bottom, I've died-

[End of transcript.]

This exchange to me, at first, read as rather inconspicuous. Other players have killed Evbo before, or straight up hit him. So it didn't particularly click with me that this was something to pay attention to, but it was a bit weird considering how Parrot is first characterized. His whole introduction with Evbo and Tabi, and him talking about the iron sword layer being peaceful, and trying to protect Evbo's immortal identity, being depressed and isolating himself in a mansion.. It seems odd that this would suddenly shift when the situation becomes "Theres no way out" and him almost getting violent here, like every other character in the series. But he shows restraint in his anger rather than lashing out. Good right? Well... Next time we "meet" Parrot the implications are less than ideal. We learn he is a bow, and that he attempted to tell Evbo this, but the message about Tabi's betrayal got through to him too late. Then something else happens. Evbo, post betrayal and probably wanting to let off some of the stress that has most definitely been bubbling under the surface, Kills the entire iron sword layer. Or atleast very heavily implied that he did, along with Parrot's help. In Evbo's words, he "Killed all the people that were against me." which could either mean like, two people or the entire layer, and I don't think Evbo was particularly keeping track of the "bad" iron swords that came into his cell depending on how populated that layer actually is. The way someone would typically twist this, is that Parrot is willing to do terrible things for his friend's safety and comfort. Which is fine, but hear me out. Considering that Parrot got very close to snapping at Evbo back in episode 4, and was pretty absent throughout the arc where Evbo trains until he gets to the diamond sword layer, and then out of nowhere, helps with a murder spree despite him being one of the more peaceful residents? One that doesn't appear to get into fights, nor is seen going into Evbo's cell for kills? Evbo lets something slip near the end right after describing the massacre that he and Parrot did together. Parrot says:

"I will do my best to make a difference in this world."

Now, this sounds good in theory. Great, even! But consider the stuff we learned from him up until this point, the tiny details that you could easily miss or disregard entirely. Now, what does that phrase imply? Especially with the surrounding context being Evbo and Parrot killing a layer together?

What difference does he intend to make in this world? We don't get more than what Evbo tells us in the narration, but he does mention that he isn't willing to see Parrot just yet, and needs to piece his feelings towards him. What went down between these two that went unseen that left Evbo not wanting to talk to him let alone see him? Fishy, fishy, fishy.

[somerandomcockroach]

@keferon OKAY BUT LISTEN YEAH I would loved if it was just fun ehehehe and sassy flirting with the demon no one sees pfffht, literally summoned a demon just to flirt with, and I guess it could have been going for a long time, just little strips with their funny adventures and then plot can go to the fact that he wants to give him a body and Shockwave would agree or that they just stay the way they are and just hang out like this together (Alo I remember that you wanted to put Ratchet (I keep writing Ratched instead of Ratchet buuuh) and Drift in it as another demon and their summoner thing whghweghgwe but I like how you made two separate stories for them that happen at the same time, okay I am actually PRETTY MUCH invested in this story, I like a lot how it goes and gets tangled and how mixes up with idw ideas and other stuff a lot)

BUT NOW that you changed it that way, you made a few more things that reader might be interested a lot in, like that promise he made and you mentioning that he will regret it, how their relationship progressively develops, plus the fact that Blurr was a frivolous slob gifted with dark magic AND how the tables turn upside dow and he get consequences for what he did in the most unpredictable way for him and how he surely changes in his behaviour, getting more and more concerned about his promise and maybe truly loving someone for the first time in his life and wanting to change something. And then figuring out that that same demon actually was a person before, someone he knew, someone respectable, kind, shiny, absolut sun of a person, who died (I am still on my knees waiting to know how exactly he died...) miserably to the point that he absolutely can't stand his life as a demon and NOT EVEN being able to kill himself!!! And Blurr was a pupil in his school, he saw him, he gifted him an ability to make his magic work for him, gave the freedom to live among everyone to all who was poisoned with this dark magic. OH WAITA HGSDHAG the thing that beastformers can't walk among transformers and the fact that dark spellers also could not, and how these events happen at a close times, OKAY so dark spellers got their kind of freedom thanks to Senator Shockwave (OH MY GOD what if Orion can see Shockwave and will recognise him right away COUGH) BUT I am wondering if beastformers will get some kind of an official declaration or some kind of school to be educated in and I wonder if Deadlock/Drift (I think after leaving he will change his name from the last episode...) will volunteer to be a teacher t be something more, or he will just end up with Ratchet wandering around the world, or maybe there will be a whole damn revolution where all monoformers and beastformers leaded by Drift go against the system, and maybe these events happen at the same time as a Senator Shockwave fighting for the rights of gifted... Okay I'm getting carried a little bit ahsghag excuse me... OH I GOT carried away A LOT I wanted to get back to the point that Blurr, now figuring out the past of Shocwave, dealing with all the events, dealing with what he has done and find a way to free them, at the same time STILL having adventures and fun since I'm sure he can be a good mood lifter to moody Shockwave and even see him in a really good mood since he is... well, not just a demon made of hatred but the wonderful kind of person in his previous life... (okay being carried away but what if Orion might declare the freedom to beastformers (AJHGAJHSDJAH OH MY GOD I IMAGINED JAZZ AS A PANDA HAVING A ROMAN WITH PROWL AND PROWL NOT KNOWING ABOUT IT OKAY SORRY) after seeing what it lead to after Senator Shockwave. And maybe Ratchet will be able to get his sign back freely after revolution will be successful or he will be forever blind just to be free and safe with his husband OKAY LISTEN I think it is obvious that I really like the thing you do....

[breezeblock-lemonade]

i really wish more people understood/accepted the concept of Unlearning Behavior.

like yeah, maybe you Do do that thing described in that post that is harmful. what if- instead of beating yourself up about it or publicly doubling down because you feel the need to defend yourself when literally nobody would’ve known you do that behavior otherwise- you looked Deeper into that behavior, Why you do it, Why it’s Bad, and then thought about what you could do to Stop doing it? crazy concept, i know!

literally so much of online discourse could be solved by this.