Tumblr Is So Silly Because You’ll Talk To People Who Are So Sweet And Polite And Then An Hour Later

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jack abbot x female reader

summary: jack comes home from a long shift to find you fast asleep in his bed

content: fluff!!!, established relationship, reader and jack are learning how to align their differing schedules, jack cooking dinner and being a domestic little boyfriend, mentions of the trauma he experiences at work, alludes to sex but nothing explicit, basically just the reader being jack’s safe space, cute n cozy!

word count: 2k

author’s note: oh look it’s stella the oneshot wonder coming through with another jack abbot oneshot and refusing to challenge herself by writing a complex multi part fic like she said she was gonna do. whatever just let me domesticate that man in peace…

Exhausted and drained of every ounce of his energy, Jack had just finished what felt like the longest shift of his career. Twelve hours of chaos that had him longing for the silence of his home and a long stretch of sleep to clear the casual scream of trauma that lingered in his mind.

While he usually offered every little corner of himself to his job, letting it consume his life in ways most people didn’t, today tested him.

It didn’t help that he held himself together for the sake of everyone around him. In true attending physician fashion, he pushed through each intervention with tactful hands and confident energy. His collected demeanor cracked with each combative family member and patient that slipped away underneath his hands, but he never let it show. Instead, he lead every room with calm assurance and a steadfast plan. And when all was said and done, when he was finally free from the confining walls of the Emergency Department, he just wanted to go home— to let go.

Functioning on muscle memory, his feet carried him to his front door, key coming into contact with the lock and stepping out of his shoes in the entryway. He walked past the living room, following his morning routine of getting ready for bed, and tossing his backpack on the barstool at the kitchen island.

Passing through his quiet kitchen, he noticed the dishes set out on the drying rack, all clean and waiting to be put away, remnants of the night before that reminded him you were there. The cluttered mess of his day almost causing him to forget the night before. 

You came over to his place after work last night.

The narrow alignment of your weekday schedules always found you in the in-between moments. With Jack working night shifts and you having a typical nine to five schedule, the fleeting evening hours were now yours to share. Dinner in Jack's kitchen quickly became a routine delicacy in your calendars. Scraping together what little time you had, and sharing a meal before your days set sail on two opposite courses. 

You were still in the early months of your relationship, hungry to spend every waking minute together.

You’d both forgotten what it felt like to be contingent on another person’s presence. The fullness of companionship. Small smiles at learning something new about the other, and the constant urge to take mental notes of every word leaving their lips, but not letting yourself veer from their train of thought for too long in fear that you might miss something. Everything felt vibrant and exciting. Your connection blooming in the gold hues of evening sun, and tender conversation at his dinner table.

A memory of your conversation from last night played in his mind; you reaching past him to grab a cutting board standing at the kitchen counter and helping with the meal's final touches. Busy stirring something on the stovetop with a dish towel resting over his shoulder, Jack listened as you told him about your day.

Continuing to monitor the pots and pans in front of him, he asked about your plans for the evening, curious to know how your day would end as his began. You worked to chop a handful of vegetables while telling him what was on your itinerary for the night: going home to finish laundry and turning in early. 

His response to your lackluster agenda was immediate, soft and genuine as it left his lips without permission.

“You could just stay here.” 

You’d stayed over at his place before. Multiple times. Always on the weekend when neither of you had work.

It gave you the opportunity to spend unrestricted time together without a single worry of differing schedules. Each time you’d stay up as late as your body would let you, not quite used to Jack’s nocturnal way of life. Your voice would dissipate into quiet hums as your eyelids grew heavy, until you eventually fell asleep with your body pressed against his. The dim lamp on his bedside table would stay on a little while longer as he read, his back resting against the headboard, but his body would sink deep into the comforter, his mind losing focus at the feeling of you alongside him. He'd let himself peer down at your sleeping figure, facial features relaxed and soft in the faint light of his bedroom. A true depiction of the endless beauty found in stillness. Finding solace in the comfort of your skin, warm and real and touching his, he would always fall asleep much faster than usual. 

Given the ease of your previous sleepovers, it wasn’t odd for him to mention you staying over at his place, but it felt different this time.

The intention was distinctive— a deepening of dependence. It wouldn’t be the normal arrangement of talking, and laughing, and fucking well into the early morning hours until you fell asleep in his arms. This time you would be there, alone, in his space. It felt like an extension of trust. An extension of newfound domesticity in your relationship. A taste of reliance.

“Like just stay here while you’re at work?” A hint of a smile danced on your lips as your words came out in wishful anticipation.

He caught it. The excitement in your voice, and the careful raise of your eyebrows as you kept your grin from stretching across your face.

“If you want to.” Setting down the sauce-stained utensil in his hand, he took a single step toward you, body angled slightly behind yours as his arms wrapped instinctively around your waist, his chin coming down to rest on your shoulder.

“I wouldn’t mind coming home to you in the morning.” His words sunk into the crook of your neck before his lips found your jaw in a careful kiss.  

Under the spell of his touch you agreed to his invitation, finishing dinner, and receiving an all too-natural kiss goodbye from Jack before he lingered at the front door on his way out. 

After an evening spent in his home, you fell asleep in his room, on his bed. And that's where you remained, still dreaming under the gentle weight of his comforter when he got home from work. 

Careful not to wake you, his steps softened as he came to the doorway of his bedroom, leaning against the frame to find your body snuggled in his sheets.

You were sprawled out on your belly with one leg bent and your hands underneath the pillow. His pillow. You must’ve ventured over to his side of the bed in your sleep, your back rising and falling with gentle breaths as your face smushed further into the cotton pillowcase. 

Fragments of your body peeked out from underneath his bedspread, the heather grey t-shirt on your back immediately catching his eye. Only a sliver of the ambiguous material was visible on your shoulders, but Jack new the shirt adorning your sleeping figure belonged to him. The sight of you wearing his clothes, nestled deep in his sheets, made the rhythmic beating in his chest stutter.

He let himself watch for a minute, standing in silence with a subtle grin on his lips.

The trials of his day dispersed right there in the threshold of his bedroom. Every high stress situation and crucial decision fading in the background as you laid on his bed, captivated by a peaceful slumber.

He knew it wouldn’t last long, knew your schedule like the back of his hand, and it was only a matter of time before you would be waking up to start your day. Half an hour maybe. 

His time with you, snuggled and serene in his bed, was limited. All he wanted to do was join you. To give himself over to the soothing consolation of your figure weighed down into his, and drown in the comfort of your soft breath. 

He had to force his way to the bathroom. Stripping himself of the clothes littered with the impurities of his job. Turning the shower faucet, and fighting his desire to lay next to you with his clothes still stained from work.

He couldn’t do that, wouldn’t do it.

There was nothing worth bringing you into his world. The grime of trauma and death had no place next to you. You were separate from all of that. Pure from the suffering he had to witness on a daily basis. Any anguish abiding in his thoughts, on his clothes, rooted in the ache of his body, all of it vanished the second he saw the soft curve of your lips after a long day.

Less than three minutes of scrubbing and rinsing his body under the shower head and he was out, working himself into a pair of shorts before silently stepping back into his bedroom. Relief flooding through his body at finding you still fast asleep on his side of the bed.

He almost doesn’t want to join you, to ruin the perfect scene set in front of him; your sleeping figure draped over his sheets, but then you stir. Your legs move slightly, and your head buries deeper into his pillow and he’s crawling onto the mattress in seconds. It dips under his weight, and one of your eyes squints open at the interruption. A sleepy smile melting onto your expression as contentment engulfs you both. He squishes next to you, eliciting a gentle hum from your chest as his body comes into contact with yours.

“Hi.” Your voice is sleepy- barely audible. Music to his ears.

“Hi.” Far less drowsy but still holding a tired rasp, his greeting fills the thin space between you, both heads sharing a pillow as your bodies face one another. 

“You’re in my spot.” His whisper hides in a smile as his hand finds the curve of your waist underneath his t-shirt.

You try to mumble out an apology, shifting your body back to the other side of the bed, but his arm wraps around your lower back, pulling you flush against his bare chest. The muscles in his body constricting as he hugs you tight against him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The familiar teasing of his voice sends a wave of comfort rippling through your body. You let his arms envelop you. Melting into his touch, surrounded and satisfied by his company.

“Want you right here.” His words are muffled in your hair as he places a kiss to the top of your head. 

You don’t fall back asleep, but Jack does. His eyes closing and breath evening the second he has you in his arms. The rigid facade he holds in place vanishing under a soft veil of sleep.

You lay with him for a few more minutes, drenched in his affection, until you're practically prying his hands from your waist and rolling out of his bed. You’re hesitant to leave, your body trying to lull you back into his sheets, the calm of his embrace calling to you as you slip quietly from his bedroom.

Already counting down the minutes until you’re back at his place for dinner, you pad into the kitchen, carefully putting away the dishes laying out on the drying rack before gathering your belongings and starting your day. 

May 5 is Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women's Day. A reminder that 84.3 percent of native women have experienced violence. 56.1 percent of native women have experienced sexual violence. And the 3rd leading cause of death for native women is murder.

And they haven't even gathered significant information on native women living in URBAN areas. It could be much higher.

Dwell on this. Wear red.

in love with whatever this is

Companionship | pt. 13

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: You score tickets to a Penguins game for Michael’s birthday — but you have more than one way to celebrate in mind.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: I can’t always answer all of your lovely comments or reblogs, but thank you all so much!! I appreciate all the interactions you guys give this series💜

I’m sorry this wasn’t out yesterday! I got a migraine at work and then it just wouldn’t go away all day. It proceeded to stick around for a good chunk of this morning as well lol

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: age gap, foul language, violence at a hockey game, birthday blowjob (oral, m! receiving), pet names (sweetheart, honey)

not beta read

How you had been able to save enough money to afford the tickets really was beyond you. When Michael picked up your utility bill, you put the money you would have spent and put it into savings. You were then able to buy the tickets for the Penguins vs. Predators game at the PPG Paints Arena after saving for nearly two months.

“So…your birthday is coming up.” You ventured one night, rubbing a thumb into your palm.

He half groaned, rubbing a hand down his face, “Don’t remind me.”

“So that’s a no to your gift then?”

His interest piqued, looking back over at you, eyebrow raised. “You got me something?”

You pulled the card out of your bag, “It’s a little early…but you’ll understand why in a moment.”

The card was quaint, with your sprawled handwriting with his name on the front. You hadn’t gotten physical tickets, so the inside of the card was empty, except for the heartfelt little note you had written. Then at the bottom was: you are now two Penguins vs. Predators tickets richer!

Michael read over the note a few more times, before looking back up at you and blinking. He brought a hand to the back of your head and pulled you in for a kiss.

“You really didn’t have to get me anything.” He said, still holding onto you.

“I wanted to.” You smiled and gave him a quick peck. “Not sure if you want to take Jack, or Jake maybe, but I wanted to give you enough notice in case you needed to take time.”

He scoffed like he was offended, “I’m taking you.”

Your smile grew, “Yeah?”

“Of course I’m gonna take you, sweetheart.” He said, kissing you again. “This was really nice of you, thank you.”

Your cheeks warmed, “Sorry I couldn’t do more. Once I’m a CPA—”

“None of that. This is a great gift and I’m looking forward to spending time with you.”

You nodded, taking in his genuine smile.

“I would like you to meet them. Jack and Jake, I mean. And a few other people from the hospital, in a more official manner than showing up for stitches.”

You smiled at him, but anxiety filled your chest at the thought. Jake was his surrogate step-son, and had been in Michael’s life since he was just a kid — you worried over the fact that you were much closer to Jake’s age. You wondered if he was the judgmental sort. And Jack. From everything you had heard about him, he was not likely to sugarcoat anything — if he didn’t like you, you’d know about it.

“I’d like to meet them.” You said, twisting your hands together.

As if sensing your unease, he kissed the side of your head. “They’ll love you.”

“I’m sure it’ll be nice to put all those rumors to rest.” You smirked, thinking back to how everyone hovered both times you had been at the hospital.

He chuckled, “All the people who need to know do now.”

Your face heated, thinking that you had done the same.

You swung your legs into his lap and cuddled close to him, “Good, I did too.”

—

The trek to Saturday was a busy one, hardly having time for each other. When Michael was working, you were studying, and when you were working, he was trying to occupy himself with mundane chores. By Wednesday night, he had showed up on your doorstep with takeout and a smile. You had thrown the door open and crashed your lips together, giggling and saying, “I missed you.”

You found a Penguins t-shirt in the back of your closet to wear for the occasion, slipping on a simple pair of jeans and your favorite sneakers.

You arrived at Michael's apartment with coffee and bagels — set to spend the majority of your day there while you waited for gametime. You lounged around and watched shitty tv reruns, and it was a welcomed lazy few hours for the both of you. Stolen kisses that left you wanting more, and soft touches that made you want to throw your plans out the window.

You ate dinner at a bar near the arena, excitement brewing at being to your first hockey game.

“I don’t wanna jinx it, so I’m just going to hope we have an enjoyable game.” You said, sipping your drink.

Michael chuckled, “Cheers to that.”

The arena was not overly packed, but it felt crowded navigating through the halls and to your seats. You had paid for decent seats, in the last row of the first floor, on one corner near the home bench.

Michael kissed you softly, “These are great seats.”

You beamed at him, and intertwined your fingers. He brought your hand up to kiss the back of it.

At puck drop, you traded conversation over predictions, and hoots and hollers at your favorite players. You laughed and held onto each other when the other team got too close to scoring. You cheered when the Penguins scored their first goal, standing with your hands in the air. You held your breath every time a fight broke out, squeezing Michael’s hand. And you enjoyed the way he knew the game well enough to make calls before the referee’s did — announcing “icing!” or “offside!” before the whistle blew.

During the first intermission, you went together to get a beer before heading back to your seats. The crowd around you was rowdy, but not uncomfortably so. You were enjoying the atmosphere.

Second period came with a few idiotic calls from the referee’s, but also another point for the Penguins. You cheered loud enough you feared you would lose your voice, and Michael watched you affectionately.

In the second intermission, you wandered off to get cheesy fries while Michael got another beer, and you met back at your seats. You were bouncing on your heels in excitement, though did not dare to utter the W word, in fear of jinxing it.

During the third period, the Penguins scored another goal toward the latter half.

“This has been the best game,” You laughed, munching on a cheese fry.

Michael pulled you in close, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He kissed your head.

By the time the buzzer sounded, the Penguins had won in a 3-0 shutout game against the Predators. You gave a relieved laugh, as you had been standing on your feet for the last minute of the game when the Predators had gotten too close. On your way out, you asked a random couple to take your picture.

You added the photo to your favorites on your way out, taking in Michael’s smile, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his other hand in his pocket. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach.

You looked over to him with the widest smile, admiring how handsome he was.

“Something on my face?”

“No,” you said, heat blooming in your cheeks. “Can’t a girl take in the view?”

He grinned softly, making his smile lines crinkle. He brought a hand to cradle your face, rubbing a thumb across your cheek. His eyes flickered between your eyes, and your heart started racing. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, leaning down to kiss you instead.

You melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, wanting to savor it for as long as you could.

When you returned to his apartment, adrenaline filled your senses, suddenly having the urge to get on your knees for him — half desperate to taste him, half addicted to the sounds he made when he was enjoying himself.

“It’s late…you should stay over.” Michael said in his dim living room, the one side table lamp being the only thing illuminating the room.

“I didn’t bring anything.” You said, a sheepish smile on your lips.

“I’ve got plenty of things that’ll fit.”

Your smile widened into a grin, heart racing at the thought of wearing his clothes. You pulled him down for a kiss, tongue sweeping across his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth. His tongue entered your mouth and you hummed against him.

Something bubbled in your stomach at the feeling of him getting hard, and your thoughts spiraled downward. You moved a hand to the waist of his jeans, pulling at the button until it unbuttoned. Michael’s breathing hitched, bringing both hands to either side of your head and kissing you fiercely.

As the zipper lowered, so did you, getting onto your knees and looking up at him.

He stared down at you, shoulders moving up and down with his breathing, face half shadowed. Though his brown eyes pooled desire low in your belly.

You pulled down his jeans to his knees, running your hand over his length through his boxers, watching as his eyes flickered closed. When you pulled them down, he opened them again, looking down at you with half concealed desire.

“You don’t have to—” he choked on his words when you grabbed hold of him, your hot breath on his tip.

You wet your lips, “I really really want to.”

He cursed lowly, running a hand through his hair, “Fuck, okay, honey.”

You licked tentatively along the head, and you noticed how his stomach quickly clenched and unclenched. Your smile was hard to hide. You took him into your mouth, tongue swirling along the tip before you descended deeper.

Michael let out a low groan from the back of his throat, head pointing up at the ceiling. HIs hand found the back of your head, not pushing, but simply holding you.

You took him until his cock hit the back of your throat and tears quickly gathered. You set a slow pace, using your hand to pick up the slack closer to his base, unable to take the full thing into your mouth. You moved your other hand to cup his balls and he moaned.

Your pussy pulsed at the sound of it, feeling yourself grow wet. You looked up at him through your lashes, and he was watching you intently, eyebrows drawn in.

“So beautiful, sweetheart. Fuck.”

You hummed around him at his words, and his apartment was filled with the sound of his quiet moans and grunts while you unraveled him. You took him deeply again, trying not to gag, flattening your tongue to apply pressure upwards while you hallowed out your cheeks.

“If you keep that up—fuck—I’m going to come down that pretty throat of yours.” He warned, though his voice sounded wrecked.

You looked up at him and didn’t stop, easily saying that that was exactly what you wanted.

He let out a few pants, one hand going to his neck, while his body tensed. You could feel that he was trying not to thrust into your wanting mouth. You ran a finger over his balls still in your hand and picked up your pace.

Michael came with a low groan, eyes squeezing shut, and you took it all. You swallowed his spend until he was twitching from overstimulation. You let go with a wet pop, which made him jolt. He quickly pulled you up in a kiss.

“Yeah, I need you in my clothes right now.”

You met his eyes, noses touching, and you smirked. “You gonna make me, handsome?”

A sly smile grew as he pulled up his pants, “I can certainly do that.”

He chased you into his room, your laugh echoing off the walls.

[ Next ]

want to join any of my taglists? shoot me a message!

Companionship taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @clementine111002 @virgomillie @emily-b @kaygilles @lt-jakeseresin @imonmykneessir @kniselle @gabsgabsvaz @rosiepoise88 @calivia @holdonimwalkingmysnail @valhallavalkyrie9 @blahkateisdone @shadowhuntyi @fuckalrighty @elli3williams @yournerdmodziata @i-know-i-can @dickheadturner @dcgoddess @pittobsessed @glamorizethechaos @blueb33ry-cat @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @burningpenguinwitch @evienorville @equallyshaw @heyysolsister @justrandomthougt @babygirlagenda @lauracantsleep @rogersbarnesxx @longlivecandice @misshoneypaper

Dr. Robby taglist: @cherriready @seeyalaterinnovator @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @bxxbxy @18lkpeters @flyinglama @hagarsays @mayabbot @anakingreys @happyfox43 @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sarah-the-bird-nerd @girl-obsessed-with-things @laurenkate79 @woodxtock @rosie-posie08

(50 tags have been reached with the combo of all three taglists, so unfortunately some of Dr. Robby & all of The Pitt taglist for this series will be added in a reblog right after this is posted - I’m sorry if this is an inconvenience!)

three parts to go + the epilogue😭

YOU ARE IMPORTANT TO PEOPLE!!!!!! YOU BRING JOY INTO THEIR LIVES!!!!!!!!!! YOU MAKE THEM HAPPY JUST BY EXISTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PEOPLE THINK ABOUT YOU POSITIVELY EVEN WHEN YOURE NOT WITH THEM!!!!!!!!! PEOPLE LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

📷 saskialawaks

She probably won’t pick him 😭😭😭

Materialists isn't even out yet but I'm already in love. Harry Castillo is perfect. Look at him. I swear if she doesn't pick him I will riot.

do interact if: you have a hyphenated last name, you're an older sibling, you have a cat, art was your favorite subject, you have kissed your friends, you really like at least one field of science, watch nature documentaries, you drank from the hose, you've been involved with the production of a musical but you never listened to hamilton, have at least one stick-n-poke, drink coffee every day, you have a favorite houseplant, prefer little and big spoon equally, have a dietary restriction, have dyed your hair green, or have been somewhere that you don't speak the language