its-forevermore

Countless cereal boxes are scattered along the floor, some slowly seeping out more work for you as pebbles and crumbs ooze from the broken plastic seals. Drifting in an ocean of Captain Crunch, Lucky Charms, and Cheerios, you get closer to the source of your interrupted break.

It seems that during your fifteen-minute lunch break, the cereal aisle exploded.

Clusters of cereal lie strewn along the floor with strange voids in the middle, like a shitty murder mystery, just that instead of a body being outlined by white tape, it was more like a blob monster drawn with Cheerios.

It wasn’t the first time either- this is the third time just this week that you’ve had to clean it up.

Safe to say, your workplace has a cereal killer on the loose.

The squeak of obnoxiously loud sneakers screeches to a halt on the opposite side of the murder scene. A shadow falls across the dire situation as murder suspect #1 completely disregards the mess in front of you. Instead, the boom of hands colliding with each other has you raising your brows in annoyance.

“Why are you just standing there? Come on, we need you at the registers, chop chop!” Kyle, your asshole of a manager, doesn’t waste a second to hear your response, already halfway across the room before you can open your mouth. His condescending clapping still echoing down the hall with his retreat.

If it weren’t for the fact that he always gave you the shifts you wanted, you would’ve made him the murder outline by now. However, as it stands, he’s the only reason you get out of the house as much as you do, so with a huff, you get to work.

To say your time back from Uni has been dull would be an understatement. The thought drifts somewhat loosely in your head as you clock out at the end of your shift. It’s late, the time trickling into midnight as you make your way across the parking lot.

Mindlessly kicking a rock around, it jumps over bumps and crashes against divots in the pavement. The gentle clatter of stone striking is suddenly overpowered by the honk of a car.

The air shifts, her presence layers itself like something tangible until it slathers against the inside of your throat. You can’t escape the jump of your pulse or the squeeze of your lungs as headlights illuminate you in the darkness.

You attempt an on-foot escape from the familiar Porsche closing in on you. Your shoe digs into your heel, the bent material has become a near-constant ache as it aggravates the blister that brewed long ago. A slick dribble of blood smears itself against your white sock, spreading until a ring of red peeks over the edge of your shoe.

The voice of your stepmother follows your hasty retreat, but your ignorance is short-lived as Wanda points an accusatory finger through her rolled-down window.

“Nuh uh, no avoiding me today, baby Bambi.” The pet name runs through you like a splash of cold water, sending chills down your spine as you freeze in your path.

Wanda points to the passenger seat, undeterred by your initial resistance. It has become a dance between you and your stepmother since you came home for the summer. She would insist that you both do something together, to bond or whatever, while you would take on extra hours and avoid her religiously.

She has tried to pick you up from work multiple times now, but you would pretend you didn’t see her, simply walking past or hitching a ride with a coworker.

You know it’s rude, but you’d rather be rude than admit that you have a crush on your own stepmother.

There is no telling how it festered, but since the moment you laid your eyes on her, she’s consumed you. The idea of spending more time with her than strictly necessary sinks like a weight into the pit of your stomach.

You’d rather she hate you than be disgusted by your perverted crush.

Besides, you are well over the age where you need to bond with your father’s partner. It’s not like it will last anyway, anyone with a pair of eyes can tell they married for business’s sake. Your father owns a rather lucrative business in the corporate world, a business that just so happens to have been your stepmother’s business rival until the two CEOs supposedly found love.

Yeah, love is what you would call the new car in your dad’s driveway and him stepping down to let Wanda handle both businesses.

There was no telling why she hadn’t left him yet.

Today would be another one of your elusive instances if it weren’t for the look she is giving you. It’s stricter than usual, with a tightness around her mouth and firmness in her eyes.

With a sigh, you climb into the passenger seat. A waft of rich perfume engulfs your tired frame. It creeps over your skin like a second layer, spreading the warm scent of cinnamon and cherry over your sweat-stained uniform. Wanda regards you with a strange fondness in her eyes as your slumped frame not so subtly leans toward her in pursuit of the smell's source.

Wanda is dressed more homely today, her blond hair slung into a side part and her face void of makeup. Even her clothing choice is far beyond the usual. You’ve gotten used to the blazers and form-fitting dress pants over the past few weeks, but today she’s in a simple white shirt coupled with some washed jeans.

The sluggishness of your exhaustion must be doing a number on you, as you don’t even realize you’re staring until a touch against your leg startles you.

A hand settles, palm up, on your thigh as she drives out of the parking lot. The shitty fabric of your work pants does little to diffuse the heat that radiates from her. A strange lump forms in your stomach at the thought of heat spreading elsewhere, as her patience seems to run thin. “Come on, hand it over.”

You blink in confusion, looking over to where her eyes stay glued to the road, in question.

She glances at you, a hint of amusement and something you’ve never seen on her, flashing across her features, “Your phone. You know the rules, honey.” 

Ah right…

It was one of the weird things she had started implementing into your life.

The rules.

Most of them were fairly easy: keep your room clean, wash the dishes when it’s your turn, and help make dinner when you aren’t working. Then there were the stranger ones. Suddenly, you had a curfew at 10 pm outside of work hours, you weren’t allowed on your phone in Wanda’s vicinity, and only approved guests could stay over.

Knowing there is no point in making a fuss about it, you fish your phone out before dropping it gently into Wanda’s waiting palm. She opens the middle console and puts it in before leaning over slightly to pat your thigh in reward.

“Well done, darling. Thank you.”

The pet names are another odd addition to Wanda’s involvement in your life. Though they are always sweet, they make you squirm. People in your life never really use nicknames, or pet names, or anything other than your name when they are referring to you.

Wanda is an anomaly in your preferably predictable life.

The crunch of gravel beneath the tires lulls you out of your thoughts. The car drums gently atop the small rocks, some of them knocking against the rim in a soothing hiss that rings through the quiet car.

However, it does confuse you. The road back to your dad’s place doesn’t have any gravel roads. Now that you’re thinking about it, you're pretty sure Wanda is driving the wrong direction altogether.

“Where are we going?”

The slim silence while Wanda seems to ponder her wording makes a drop of sweat drip down your back, “My apartment. Your father is gone for the weekend, and I thought we girls should bond a little.”  

Your sluggish mind takes a moment to catch up, merely staring at her, until it hits you like a slap in the face. Spending more time with her addicting presence is the last thing you should be doing. If Wanda had any sense in her, she would see why you avoid her and run for the hills.

“Wan-”

Her hand, not currently occupying the steering wheel, is in your face. Squishing your cheeks together harsher than necessary, Wanda tsks, “No. I don’t want to hear it. Is it really that horrible to spend time with me?”

Fingertips release you from her hold, instead, they glide softly along your cheek. It hypnotizes you, your need to comfort her is stronger than your will to stay away: “No, of course not.”

A happy hum is all you get before her warmth is gone, both hands on the wheel and eyes staying strictly forward as Wanda keeps driving. “Good. Then it’s decided.”

You sigh your agreement.

────୨ৎ────

A lone chair sits in Wanda's luxurious hallway. It’s the first thing you notice, its rich brown color absorbs some of the warm light filtering from above. It’s a stark contrast from the rest of the white hall.

Paintings are scattered across both sides of the hallway, the illustrations vary, some abstract pieces hanging above the coatrack while a far too explicit painting of a woman engaging in… some interesting acts… sits atop the door that you assume leads to the living room.

You squirm where you stand, twisting your fingers as blush crawls up your neck. Wanda’s soft chuckle directly behind you does little to diffuse the sudden tension tightening your stance.

“Come here.”

There is no time to react before Wanda pushes you onto that neat little chair.

The groan of wood falls on deaf ears as all your senses hone in on Wanda’s hands. Fingers slide against your knees, the pressure of her fingertips pushing against the stiff material of your pants before grasping your ankle. Words choke themselves, stuck as your stepmother inspects your bloodied sock.

Blond tresses sway against your exposed skin as she lifts your pants for a better look. A dried slab of blood clings to your skin, a smudge of red festering on the back of your shoe where the broken back resides.

A suspiciously handy med-kit resides under the chair, Wanda getting to work with a quiet, “Poor baby.”

You stay silent as she goes through the motions of cleaning your bloody blister before adding a silly-themed band-aid over it. Leaning back on her knees with one last pat to your heel, Wanda eyes your destroyed shoes before looking back at you.

“I fear those will have to go.”

You know she’s right: if not for your bleeding heel, then the fact that the soles are practically nonexistent by now. Still, you can’t help the tears that build in your eyes at the news. You know you’re just tired and being stupid, but you really like these shoes.

The thought of fighting against her words must flash across your face because Wanda clicks her tongue before you have the chance to open your mouth.

“Now now, I know you’re tired, but there is no reason to throw a tantrum, baby Bambi.”

A stunned stillness settles over you at her words, it’s infuriating how she belittles you, yet some small part of you blooms under the condescending tone that drips so sweetly from her tongue.

The pitter-patter of Wanda’s socked feet hitting the wooden flooring as she starts walking away from you almost has you on your knees begging for forgiveness before she stops.

Illuminated by the bathing light of the living room, Wanda stands directly under her unique art. The warm orange bounces against her loose curls, leaving a strange dreamlike effect as her words float around the far too empty space between the two of you.

“Now, come, it’s late and mo- and I don’t want more attitude in the morning.” The soft murmur of her voice fades away from you as she turns, leaving you to force your depleting strength into your muscles and dart after her at what you hope is an appropriate speed.

Wanda leads you into a guest room, leaving with a curt goodnight.

It all seems awfully rushed to you. You know it’s probably for the best, the mere sliver of affection she granted you today already having left an addiction buzz inside your head.

But you’re greedy.

You want more.  

It’s the last thought you have before you succumb to the strangeness of tonight, drifting in an ocean of cinnamon and cherry as your head hits red silk.

────୨ৎ────

The cusp of darkness lies like a shroud above you as you wake up. Something is pushing toward you, heat engulfing your tired frame. Seconds tick by in a meaningless fashion before your mind catches up to the tickle of blonde tresses against your back.

It seems that sometime in the night, Wanda has come back for you. She cocoons around you, pushing in at strange intervals.  

You almost ask her if something is wrong before a sound submerges your train of thought.

Wanda’s scattered breath weighs heavily in the air. Sounds you have never heard from her before now moaned directly into your ear.

It stuns you into silence as you focus on her movements.

Hips buck against your back, seeking pleasure in your unassuming form. Wanda grinds gently, like waves cruising along the coastline, back and forth in smooth motions. Her sleeping shorts ruffle on your lower back, bunching with the movement of her hips and pressing into you.

You can hear her breath grow heavier by the second, puffing against the shell of your ear. The last remnants of slumber burn away from you as your own breath hitches in your throat. You wonder what she’s dreaming about.

At least you think she’s dreaming…

The lips resting against your neck expose Wanda's pleasure as she moans silently, “Fuck, I can’t stop… Baby Bambi, fuck.”

The sound of her sends a shiver through you. She isn’t dreaming. Your stepmother is humping your sleeping form because she wants you.

Needs you.

 You have to suppress the need to grind back into her desperately. It’s like a sickness, her desperation bleeding into your own as your breath grows quicker.

A hand sneaks beneath your t-shirt. The warmth of her palm travels up- up- up until she’s cupping one of your tits gently. Fingers circle the sensitive flesh of your nipple, not hard enough to rouse any real reaction, but constant enough for the wetness between your thighs to grow.

“You feel so good, baby Bambi.”

The ache in your chest explodes at her words, leaving you to pant against the sheets as you try to keep quiet. You fear what would happen if she knew you were awake, the thought of her stopping almost lets a whine slip past your slack lips.

Her other hand palms against your side now, gripping your hips lightly before braving the path down. She skims over your lower stomach, pushing you deeper against Wanda’s moving hips before she’s rubbing a teasing pressure against your underwear.

Two fingers rub in circular motions, only interrupted by her wild jerking. Wanda’s fingers drag a path across the sticky wetness of your pussy. She tests the stretch of your underwear, pushing against your opening before retreating and returning to your clit.

The bucking turns rougher, with sporadic jumps followed by a drawn-out “Baby, fuck-”

You squeeze your eyes shut, begging for the mercy of her mounting pleasure before you come in your panties, untouched, and reveal yourself. Instead, there is a murmur against your neck, something that sounds suspiciously like “fuck it,” before soft lips trail kisses against the back of your neck.

The movement of her hips stops, then her haughty voice breaks the newfound stillness: “I know you’re awake.”

For a moment, the world freezes as a thousand thoughts drift through your head.

Has she known the entire time?

Were you not supposed to wake up?

Is she mad at you?

But your inner panic is cut short as a thigh pushes itself between your legs. The warmth of her is a stark contrast to the wet patch sticking to the inside of your thigh.

Her hands shift to hold your hips firmly as she starts rocking you with her movement, surrendering you to her mercy as she drags you against the meat of her thigh. Your swollen clit strains against the soaked fabric of your underwear, the flimsy material the only hindrance between your flesh and hers.

“Let mommy take care of you, hm, what do you say, baby?”

A desperate keen is the only response she gets as she flips you.

The weight of a body pins you flat against the bed, coarse fabric pushing along your back as her chest settles atop you. Rougher hands lift until your hips wag in the air.

“You really thought mommy wouldn’t notice, baby?”

There is not a moment of wasted breath before your underwear is quickly pushed to the side and her fingers plunge into you. The naughty noise of wet squealing and your surprised moans bounce against the bedroom walls.

“Fuck, well done, baby Bambi, you take me so well.” The hair on the back of your neck drifts with her words as they blow over your skin. Wanda’s pushing against her hand, humping you as she fucks you roughly.

She grunts deeply, “Can mommy tell you a secret?”

The pads of Wanda’s fingertips rail against your sweet spot repeatedly, her words barely hanging on to meaning. She laughs at your pathetic cries, pushing your head further into the sheets. A pool of saliva turns the white fabric sheer.

Her moans grow in volume with your own, the both of you speeding toward pure bliss.

“Shit, I've been thinking about this for so long.”

Your skin surrenders to her teeth as they lodge into your shoulder.

“Ever since I first saw you, mommy knew you needed her.”

She forces your head to the side before she’s kissing you deeply, a tongue forcing its way down your throat. Wanda licks into you as if she's starving, drinking your spit like it’s one of her expensive wines. Her pace speeds up, hurling you toward pleasure faster than you can keep up.

The pressure in your stomach grows and grows, your crying spreading spit across both of your faces.

Wanda hushes you, “Oh, I know, baby, I know.”

“You’ve been working so hard trying to hide from mommy, haven’t you, baby Bambi?”

Her voice grows louder, hinting at how deeply she is affected by her own words.

“It’s why you’re going to quit your job and spend your time with me.”

The fingers inside of you are the only thing you can focus on as you moan your answer.

Wanda releases you from her hold, sitting up on her knees until she towers over your frame. The sweet bliss of your orgasm fades away as she takes her fingers with her. You whine, tears springing to your eyes as the taste of your denied relief sits strong on your tongue.

“Will you do what mommy tells you?

Your ass pushes against her crotch, a small cry of frustration the only sound you manage to make as she palms your ass. You twist your neck all the way to see her, her question going unheard as the sight of her licking your arousal off her fingers consumes you.

The pink of her tongue curls around her digits, dragging across the wet pads of her fingertips seductively slowly. Wanda holds eye contact all the while you watch helplessly, wanting nothing more than for the fingers to drive back into you. A moan rumbles from deep in Wanda’s throat, your answering whine going ignored as she refuses to touch you.

Wanda clicks her tongue, the mental timer ticking down to its end tally.

A slap rings through the bedroom like a gunshot, almost louder than the keening moan that tears through you.

It startles you enough to have words spilling out of you faster than you can comprehend them,

“Yes! Yes, whatever you want! Please, mommy, anything!”

You barely know what you’re saying. Your words are nothing more than nonsensical babble, but it must have made her happy because her fingers come back, railing you harder than ever before. Wanda is back to humping you too, pushing her fingers deeper as she grinds into you.

“There you go, good girl!”

You can’t hear her anymore, the pressure in your stomach is now balancing on a needle’s point. It’s overwhelming: the thickness of your desire choking you, and you begin to fight against her grip. You don’t know what you’re doing, your mind far away as your body fights the inevitable.

Her weight settles back over you as she shushes you gently, her words soft even as her fingers continue their drilling into your wet hole.

“Hush, baby, you’re okay. You’re okay, give in. You can give in now.”

You whine, a panicked noise your only response as the feeling inside of you reaches its limit. It feels like you’re going to explode, the feeling stronger than you have ever felt it before. It blisters inside you, festering onto every nerve, expanding the numbing pleasure from the tips of your fingertips and down to your toes.

Wanda pushes your face into the pillows, the suffocating lack of air, strangely enough, sending you flying over the edge. The loud moaning and jerking against your back tell you that Wanda came right with you.

It’s the last thought you have before the void plunges you in headfirst.

A hazy flicker of static hums inside you as you float far above your own mind. Dim lights simmer beneath your eyelids, a pattern of no sense or reason drawing across your mind like a gentle embrace. Warmth envelopes you, a soothing voice cooing at you while wetness and sweat are wiped away with soft hands.

You’ve just returned to your body when Wanda slides back next to you in bed—all resemblance of space a laughable notion now. Her voice drifts along your residual softness, “Well done, my beautiful girl. You’ll call your manager in the morning, and then we’ll talk. Let's sleep.”

Her palm brushes your cheek before she leans down to plant a sweet kiss atop the red flush. You hum your agreement, the previous conversation long gone from memory. But if it’s what mommy wants, then it’s what she’ll get.

Wanda wraps around you, her body curling into your own as her hand cups you carefully.

“Good girl. Mommy will train you well.”

You have a long weekend ahead of you.

there were boxes stacked against every wall.

the kitchen.

the living room.

the bedroom.

the bathroom.

even the staircase. the one that she’d always imagined decorating with framed photographs was crowded with labeled cartons.

jack stood in the middle of the organized boxed, hands resting on his hips.

"so." he sighed, rubbing his rough hand over his scruff.

she turned toward him, the hair in her ponytail bouncing as she replied, “sooo." she dragged.

"we own a lot more books than i remembered."

that earned a giggle from her, "well most of them are mine." she pointed.

"oh, i know." he chuckled, playfully scowling.

"hey! you still let me bring them."

"this place has built-in bookshelves." he shrugged, “i knew what i was signing up for." he winked.

she crossed the room, smiling timidly up at his towering figure as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"mm i love you."

jack looked down at her, smiling in that quiet way that always made her heart flutter.

"i love you too, petal.” he said as he leaned into kiss her.

she pulled away first, smiling as she walked away. she didn’t get too far before he playfully smacked her bum causing her to yelp.

—

by mid afternoon, they had unpacked exactly three boxes and she insisted it was because they kept getting distracted.

of course, he insisted it was because she kept stopping to admire every room.

"i can't help it." she blabbed, spinning slowly in the middle of the kitchen. "i still can't believe this is ours."

jack leaned against the island, folding his arms.

"i was hoping you'd say that."

she looked over.

"why?" she gave him a look.

"because every time you smile like that,” he shook his head. "it reminds me that i made the right decision."

her cheeks warmed immediately.

"you always know what to say."

"nah." he tutted, walking towards her, "i just tell you the truth."

—

around lunchtime, they ordered from their favorite thai food restaurant, which was now much closer to them.

they ate sitting on the floor of the living room because they hadn't unpacked the dining table yet.

she stole a broccoli from his plate and he pretended not to notice. but when she reached for another one, his fingers caught her wrist.

"baby leave some for me i beg you."

"i don't know what you're talking about."

"you've eaten half my broccoli, baby.”

"i was testing them to make sure they were cooked to your liking. i know how picky you are when it comes to broccoli.” she blushed at her own joke.

"oh” he hummed, “so for my benefit then?”

she nodded very seriously.

"of course… doctor. abbot"

he laughed under his breath.

"so selfless." he said grabbing a broccoli and holding it towards her lips. “c’mon” he ordered.

she obliged.

her eyes staying directly on his as she took it in her mouth.

—

after lunch— more unpacking.

well, at least that was their intention!

she carried a box labeled kitchen toward their new dark green cabinets.

she reached onto her tiptoes but before she could lift it higher, the weight disappeared from her hands.

jack had already taken it.

"h—hey! i had it."

“i know."

"jack." she whined.

"i didn’t like the way you were holding it. you could have torn something, s’all baby."

—

as afternoon melted into evening, the townhouse slowly transformed.

colorful books filled the shelves.

their mugs lined the kitchen cabinets.

her pastel throw blanket found its place on the couch.

his old army photographs sat beside framed pictures of the two of them.

their lives... blending together.

not just his and not just hers.

theirs.

she skipped upstairs while jack carried the last empty box to the garage while she pushed open the bedroom door.

the bed had finally been put together, thanks to her stint and hardworking man.

the fresh white sheets were screeched neatly across the mattress while their comforter was folded at the foot of the bed, waiting for be put in place.

she smiled softly because it looked like home.

she heard footsteps behind her.

then warm hands settled around her waist causing her to gasp softly as she felt him rest his chin against her shoulder.

"what're you thinking about?"

she leaned back into him. "that this doesn't feel real."

"no?" he hummed.

she shook her head.

"i used to point at this house every weekend." a tiny laugh escaped her. "and now..."

she looked around the room. "i'm standing in our bedroom."

jack's arms tightened around her, his nose caressing her neck causing her to fold into him as he rasped, "our bedroom."

she giggled as he held her in place, his lips pecking her skin.

"i— i like the way that sounds." she gasped.

"so do i" said hotly.

she reached up, intertwining her fingers with his as she spun to face him, "you know..." she said quietly, “you changed my life."

"baby." jack frowned.

“you did.” she pressed. "jack, you listened to something i said in passing."

he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"it wasn't in passing."

"it felt like it." she argued.

"i remember everything you tell me." he said, moving then back towards the duvet. her legs hit the edge of the bed.

jack cupped her face gently, biting his lip as he felt her tremble with anticipation under his touch. even after all this time, she was still so shy. so innocent.

"you happy?" he wanted to know.

she nodded slowly, “i’m so happy, jack.”

she rose onto her toes and kissed him, slowly and unhurried. like there was nowhere else either of them needed to be.

jack smiled against her lips.

"i’ve been wanting to do that all day." he growled.

"you've kissed me all day." she giggled, pulling away.

"not like this."

she laughed softly before kissing him again and this time, his hands settled a little more firmly at her waist, drawing her closer until there wasn't an inch of space left between them.

she could feel his smile.

she could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm.

he pulled away first, their chests moving fast as they caught their breaths. jack rested his forehead against hers.

"so..."

she looked up innocently.

"mm—so?"

he glanced toward the bedroom door, then back at her.

"you're not interested in unpacking the last box tonigh, are you?”

her gaze lingered on his lips before looking toward the lonely cardboard box sitting just outside the room.

a grin tugged at her lips.

"i think it'll still be there tomorrow." she shrugged.

"i had a feeling you'd say that." he said, his hands trailing down to grasp into her hips.

she looped her arms around his neck.

"what did you have in mind instead, dr. abbot?"

a slow smile spread across his face—the kind that made her stomach flutter every single time. she knew how he’d fall apart every time she called him that.

"i was thinking..."

he brushed another lingering kiss against her lips.

"...we should properly christen our new home."

her cheeks flushed instantly, gasping slightly as she felt his scruff against her skin.

“o—oh?"

"you know. strictly for sentimental reasons."

she let out a scoff. “mhm, yeah okay."

"i take home ownership very seriously." he said, his eyes dark.

she laughed, hiding her face against his chest.

"you're impossible."

"so I've been told." he hummed.

he kissed the top of her head, his voice dropping into that warm, rumble— the one that made her knees go weak.

“does this mean we need to christen every room?” she asked looking up. giving him that pretty little smile.

“every. single. room. even the stairs.” his eyes met hers, “and that’s a promise.” he said dipping his head down. his lips fanning over her collarbone.

she gasped as his hands traced the lining of her jeans. he tugged on the belt loops causing her to bite her lip.

she leaned up to kiss him and he immediately moaned into her lips as she sucked onto his bottom lip, biting playfully.

she turned them around and guided him to sit on the bed. he groaned as she unraveled herself from his arms as he tried to pull her into his lap

“be right back.” she whispered.

he watched as she walked backwards to nudge the bedroom door closed with her foot before she slowly pulled off her top to reveal the black laced bra she’d been hiding from him all day.

“get back here now.” he growled.

It really was just one of those days…

Y/N steps into the locker room, a pout playing on her bottom lip as she stares down at her sweater. It was soaked from a careless ambulance truck driving full speed through a large rain puddle.

With a heavy sigh, she pulls off her beloved pink sweater to shove into her locker. She rummages around, finding nothing else to use as a cover up.

She steps back from her locker, at a loss until the fluorescent lights of the ED glimmer against a locker that’s four rows down from hers. She eyes it sheepishly before giving in.

She knew the combination already.

Quickly, she opens the locker and tries to keep the exploring to a minimum, happily humming as she finds a spare navy blue sweater with ‘PTMC’ on the back.

Shrugging it on, she uses her elbow to shut the locker door. She makes a mental note to be more careful as she steps out of the locker room, surrounded entirely by a whole new scent. A very welcoming scent.

The scent of Jack Abbot..

“Heard you went swimming..” Santos says as she walks past Y/N, a smirk playing on her lips as Y/N chuckles.

“Water was too cold..” She jokes back, voice as soft as ever as the fellow intern eyes the sweater now halfway zipped up on her friend’s body.

“A little big on you.” She notes with playful suspicion, and Y/N balls her fists in the sleeves.

“It’s a sweater.” She defends with a shrug.

“Not your sweater…” Santos clarifies with a knowing glint in her eyes.

“How’s our ear infection case..?” Y/N finally fusses, cheeks turning a slight pink, desperate to just change the subject as Santos laughs. The two girls walk towards their desks just as the elevator dings behind them.

Jack steps into the ED, still decked out in SWAT attire. He has a small hand towel he’s using to dry his face and neck. “Holy hell, it’s pouring..” He sighs to anyone in ear shot.

Y/N tries not to stare..

“Hey, Fluff.” Jack murmurs as he walks past her desk to get to the locker room. His footsteps stop however when he realizes what she’s wearing. Turning to eye her fully now, he smirks a bit at the sight. She blushes knowingly.

“My sweater got soaked with dirty rain water..” She informs timidly. “I.. I can put it back..” She assures quickly afterwards as he openly admires her, shaking his head lightly with a small smile playing on his lips. He licks his bottom lip as he watches her closely.

“Don’t.” He says. “Looks good on you, Fluff.” He nods before walking away towards the lockers, leaving Y/N to bashfully overlook her charts in order to ignore the flutter in his stomach.

“Don’t. Looks good on you, Fluff..” Santos mocks from next to her. Y/N quickly swats at her arm as she just continues her mocking.

*

*

*

Jack Abbot could watch her everyday.

Leaning against the nurses station, he observes how Y/N can go from one patient to another. She practically floats through this ED.

She’s capable. She’s intelligent. She looks like the personification of the word ‘bubble’. Her smile can put even the worst patients at ease. Her eyes are deep enough to get lost in. At least.. Jack gets lost in them.

“Working hard or hardly working?” Robby asks as he settles in next to his friend, both of them now leaning their elbows against the countertop.

“A little of both..” Jack smirks back, giving Robby a quick glance before going back to watching Y/N.

“You know, this could be an HR write up.” Robby jokes after a moment.

“Let’s not waste the paper..” Jack mutters in a deadpan tone. HR, hell, or high water.. Nothing could stop him from watching his girl go. Robby shakes his head in slight amusement. He had this crush bad. The last time he’d felt this way about a girl, it was… Jack couldn’t even remember.

“When are you gonna just ask her out? Officially?” Robby asks. Y/N and Jack weren’t exactly hiding what they were.

It’s just that not even they knew what they were.

They were friends. Inseparable, honestly.

But they weren’t exactly ‘dating’.

Because the Jack Abbot… Was scared. Not of rejection, no. It was extremely clear to both that there was something there. He was scared of losing what they had if he messed up.

You could usually find them in their own world together.

Softly, quietly, speaking with each other about patient care plans or giving each other pep talks before the next case showed up. They were a team.

“I’m getting to that.” Jack tries with a shrug. One that isn’t convincing.

Robby hums. “Moving at a snail’s pace, brother..” He teases as Jack sighs and stands up straighter from the nurses station.

“Just.. Gotta find the right time.” Jack mutters as the two men begin walking down the hallway.

“Right time..” Robby snorts, not buying it.

“Yeah. The right time.” Jack defends.

“Bullshit.” Robby chuckles as his eyes stay overlooking the ED around them. In case anyone needed help. Jack scoffs in amusement at the word, shaking his head as Robby continues. “You think you don’t deserve her.” He states knowingly.

Jack narrows his eyes a bit, hands going to his pockets as he shrugs like that ‘could be’ a reason for him dragging his feet. But deep down, Robby was right.

And Jack knew it.

Y/N was so light. She was sunshine in a soul and Jack loved to watch her, but… The sun had never really been his thing. What if his darkness overtook her?

He couldn’t be the thing that extinguished her flame.

“Maybe I just don’t wanna shoot my shot at my future boss..” Jack jokes finally, wanting to change the direction of this conversation.

“Whoa!” Robby laughs. “Think she can replace me?” He asks. Jack smirks as he watches Y/N run down the hallway to check on another patient.

She moved like a lightening bolt..

“Only a matter of time.” Jack smirks. Robby shakes his head in amusement, but doesn’t argue with that statement.

The two walk in silence after that. Heading to the vending machines in the hallway outside the ED for a quick snack. When they walk back in, Robby gets pulled away by Whitaker, and Jack finds himself alone yet again. With a soft sigh, he opens his power bar while walking down the hallway.

“Excuse me?”

Jack stops and turns to face the direction of the voice. A tired looking young mom stands in front of him. “Is.. Dr. Y/N around?” She asks. Jack sees a young boy in a soccer uniform, sat in the hospital bed, pouting as he stares at his leg that’s covered in gauze and bleeding through.

“She said she’d be right back. Said my kid might need stitches. He’s.. Terrified of needles though..” She worries gently as Jack nods slowly.

“I understand. I.. Will go find her.” He assures, before walking off to do so. He checks in the few rooms he knows are on her case load today, her desk, even knocks on the ladies’ room door.

Nothing.

He walks past a random hospital room with its lights on, curtains closed, and door shut. Confused, he walks in and opens the curtain, freezing as he sees Y/N standing with her back to him in her scrub pants, but no shirt on.

That’s not what gets his jaw slack though. Well.. It is. He’s always had a thing for black lace, but.. It’s the tattoos that really make his heart race.

Sleeves on both arms, back tatted too. Y/N looks over her shoulder and gasps a bit, arms going around her chest as he quickly turns his back as to not make her uncomfortable.

“I... Sorry. I… Sorry.” He says and mentally curses at not having anything else to say. “I just uh… Been lookin for you..” He finally lands on as Y/N quickly puts on a new scrub shirt, fixing her hair too as she eyes Jack.

She knew sooner or later this would get out.

“I’m dressed.” She informs gently as she sits on the edge of the bed now.

Slowly, Jack turns to face her again. “I should’ve knocked, I’m sorry.” He says as Y/N eyes him sheepishly.

“I should’ve found somewhere else to change..” She says back to show there’s no hard feelings.

She’s had dreams of being shirtless in front of Jack a few times before. Usually the ending was… Different, though.

Jack glances at her arms again. So he hadn’t seen things. They were real. She was tatted up, and for a quick second, Jack wondered if she was tattooed… Everywhere. He could feel his mouth getting dry.

Fuck.

Who knew his little sunshine was so… Hot.

In order to behave, and remembering they’re still at work, Jack averts his eyes away, spotting a hazard bag on the floor by Y/N’s feet. “What happened?” He asks.

“One of my patients threw up. I guess on me was easier than in the bowl.” Y/N sighs deeply. “Then again… She was three..” Y/N notes softly, not holding a grudge for that reason only.

“I’ll clean your sweater, Jack. I swear.” She adds fast after a beat of silence. Jack waves a hand to silently tell her not to worry herself with it.

“You’ve got some ink.” Jack finally notes.

Y/N giggles quietly as she sheepishly looks down at her arms. “That I do.” She sighs. “Can that just… Stay between us?” She asks hopefully.

“Scouts honor.” Jack says with a smirk, happy he gets to be the only one at work to know this side of her..

“They’re really good though. Why don’t you ever show them off?” Jack asks.

Y/N snorts. “Are you kidding? Would you want to see your ER doctor fully tatted?” She asks playfully, her tone only half joking.

“You know, if I’m in the ER, I think I have more important things going on than my doctor being inked up or not..” Jack notes, a bit sarcastic. It makes Y/N smile sheepishly.

“Yeah, well.. Tattoos still have a stigma around them, and.. I wanna be taken seriously.” Y/N states softly before shaking her head. “I guess it doesn’t matter anyways. I don’t have another sweater to wear..” She says quietly, preparing herself to do the rest of her shift with her tattoos on full display.

Jack watches her closely for only a second before he gets up and takes off his tactical combat shirt. It’s part of his SWAT uniform, and he was still wearing it over his scrubs due to it being a chilly and rainy fall day in Pittsburgh.

Y/N looks up at him as he stands in front of her. “What about you?” She asks curiously.

“Eh.. I run hot.” He smirks playfully. She eyes him with a soft hum. That was an understatement..

She bashfully grabs the long sleeve from him, her hand brushing against his. Neither move their hands. Or fully pass the shirt. They just take this as a moment to watch each other. A moment of brief peace before they have to continue their shift.

In this moment.. Jack realizes he’s been trying to keep Y/N away, afraid of.. Tainting her. But this was a grown woman. Grown and capable and extremely captivating to him. And he couldn’t waste more time.

Because any guy that was in his right state of mind would think the same thing.

And Jack couldn’t risk losing her..

“You know… I’ll need it back soon. It is my uniform…” He points out softly. Y/N nods fast, muttering a quiet ‘right’ as she fully holds the shirt now. “You can give it back.. Maybe over dinner? Tomorrow night?” He asks. Y/N’s initial expression of understanding changes into a more shy but eager glance as she looks back up at Jack. She smiles and slowly nods.

“I’ll make sure to wash it.” She promises as she stands up too, slipping it on.

Jack smirks, loving her in his clothes. “Mm.. Don’t.” He says simply, wanting it to smell like her when he finally gets it back. It makes her stiffen a shiver when she fully understands why..

“And for the record.” Jack adds after a moment. “If I was in the ER? And you were my doctor? Tattoos or not… I’d know I’m in great hands. Your patients are lucky to have you..” He states as he looks her in the eyes. She smiles wide and moves to hug him tight.

In that same moment, Robby walks past the open hospital door with Santos in tow, both slowing their steps to glance into the room. They share a confused look at the sight in front of them before continuing their walk.

“I’d ask, but..” Santos trails off.

“I don’t get paid enough..” Robby snorts in agreement.

*

*

*

Jack walks through the ED to supervise all of the handovers from day shift to night shift. He pauses in the doorway of one room though when he sees Y/N kneeling by a hospital bed. The hospital bed that belongs to that 12-year old boy who needs stitches on his leg.

Jack watches as she leans against the bed so the young boy can color in one of her tattoos located on her forearm with washable markers. He’s distracted by the task at hand. So much so that Whitaker can actually do the stitches.

The mom watches on, just grateful her son hasn’t freaked out yet. “All done..” Whitaker says happily with a soft sigh of relief as he begins cleaning up the supplies. Y/N smiles as she reaches her freehand up to ruffle the young boy’s hair.

“You did it!” She cheers happily, holding up her free hand for a high-five. The boy stops his coloring.

He’s stunned for a moment, looking at them all. “I did it?!” He asks before realizing. “I did it!” He says, relieved it’s over. He high fives both Y/N and Whitaker as Jack watches, impressed from the doorway.

Y/N looks over and smiles softly at him, pulling her sleeves down again before softly telling Whitaker to work on discharging them. He agrees. Y/N steps out.

“Ready to call it a night?” Jack asks.

“Yes, please..” She chuckles as they begin to walk.

“Smart game plan.” He compliments as they walk towards the locker room so she can grab her stuff.

“Yeah, well… A wise doctor once said that if someone’s in the ER.. They probably have way better things to worry about than their doctor being tatted..” Y/N mumbles playfully as Jack smirks.

“Wise? I’ll take it. But.. I’d also take ‘handsome’, ‘charming’,-“ Y/N cuts him off.

“Smug?” She teases as they get to the locker room. She grabs her stuff and they head over to the ambulance bay to get to the parking lot. Jack loved this part of his shift. Getting Y/N to her car.

He took this task as seriously as saving lives.

In fact, the evenings when Jack was too busy to walk her to her car, Y/N would just wait at her desk.

She learned to do that the hard way. ‘Hard way’ being Jack telling her to wait for him the very next time he saw her after the first time she tried leaving alone..

“You know..” She begins as they walk peacefully. “I feel at a disadvantage. You’ve seen like.. a good chunk of my ink, and I’ve seen nothing of yours..” She teases. Jack laughs softly.

“I don’t have tattoos..” He informs casually as he stops at Y/N’s car. She unlocks it with her keys so he can open her door for her.

It’s routine at this point.

“You don’t?” Y/N asks, slightly surprised by the reveal. Jack smiles at her as she moves to get in her car.

“Nope.” He closes her car door for her and leans down to her now open window.

“Too scared of needles.” He says simply before winking, making her giggle…

The night shift in ‘The Pitt’, as everyone called it to overhype how much whiplash one could go through within a few hours, was always an uneasy challenge compared to the day shift, you never knew what was coming because exhaustion made every monitor alarm feel like it was drilled into your skull. The emergency department was already drowning before the clock even hit seven.

Ambulances kept stacking up outside the bay doors. Psych holds were lining the hallways because there were no open beds upstairs. Dana was already arguing with transport over missing imaging scans while simultaneously barking orders at nurses.

Simply, she was trying to keep triage moving so they could clock out along with some students looking one step away from passing out onto the ground.

And in the mix of it was Y/N, trying to make it through her first night herself, Gloria had hired her as another addition to the emergency department of the hospital to help out, really. 

“Traffic volume at night has increased almost thirty percent over the last quarter, so the administration approved another attending for overnight emergency medicine coverage. Dr. Y/LN will be joining nights effective immediately.”

A few exhausted claps followed, and Jack had barely looked up from signing discharge paperwork.

At least not then.

Because Jack was used to people cycling through the department, nurses came and went, people rotated every few weeks. New hires usually spent their first shift trying not to drown.

But around an hour later into her first full shift into the darkness, he turned the corner near radiology while speed walking with a chart in one hand and coffee in the other and slammed directly into somebody.

Coffee splashed onto the floor and a clipboard hit the ground.

“Jesus-”

Jack caught her automatically by the waist before she lost balance, her eyes immediately looked up to his face extremely irritated.

She was pretty in his eyes, drop dead gorgeous.

“Seriously?” she snapped immediately. “On my first fucking day?”

Jack blinked once before the corner of his mouth lifted naturally. It wasn’t even intentional, he was just a natural flirt at this point.

“Well,” he said smoothly, “Usually I at least buy someone dinner before I tackle them in the hallway.”

She stared at him like she wanted to put him through drywall.

Dana walked past carrying lab slips and immediately pointed. “Abbot, quit harassing the new attending.”

“I’m not harassing anybody,” Jack answered casually without taking his eyes off Y/N. “I’m introducing myself.”

“You’re in my way,” Y/N muttered.

She was definitely not intimidated by him, genuinely.

Jack crouched to grab the chart she’d dropped. “Dr. Jack Abbot.”

“I know who you are.”

Something about that answer pleased him more than it should have.

He handed the chart back carefully. “And you are?”

“Too busy for you.”

Then she walked off.

Whitaker, standing nearby with an IV start kit, looked between them slowly. “Oh, she hates you.”

Jack watched her disappear toward the trauma wing.

“No,” he said thoughtfully. “Not yet.”

And then, the next few hours turned from the calm before the storm to the peak of the storm.

A 72 year old woman came in screaming over a broken hip after falling down her stairs. A drunk college kid cracked his head open trying to jump off a roof into a pool, but unfortunately landed on the concrete in a loud thud and the icing on the cake is somebody overdosed on something laced in the ambulance bay bathroom.

Y/N barely had time to breathe,

Dana stayed glued to her side most of the shift, rapidly updating her between patients while moving through the department like a war general.

“Room nine’s potassium came back critical. Trauma two needs reassessment. Psych hold in fourteen tried to bite a nurse. And room six keeps hitting the call light because his blanket’s too warm.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Y/N muttered, rubbing exhausted hands over her face.

Then room six started yelling again.

“I BEEN WAITING THIRTY MINUTES!”

“You’ve been here six hours,” Javadi snapped from inside the room.

“I WANT A DIFFERENT DOCTOR.”

“And I want silence,” Javadi fired back.

The patient started complaining louder and Javadi started arguing louder.

And finally Y/N stormed into the room with the kind of exhausted fury only night shift doctors possessed.

“For fuck’s sake could you just shut up? Both of you.”

The silence hit immediately and Javadi looked relieved. Unfortunately for her, Jack happened to be walking by right when she said that.

He stopped mid step.

Turned.

Looked through the doorway.

Y/N stood there in black scrubs with loose strands of hair escaping her ponytail, gloves snapped against her wrist, expression murderous from stress and exhaustion.

Jack actually doubled back to stare.

Whitaker nearly walked into him. “Why’d you stop?”

Jack’s eyes stayed on her.

“Because I think I’m in love with the new attending.”

Whitaker snorted. “You say that every week.”

“No,” Jack said quietly. “I usually like the nice ones.”

The adrenaline from the chaos of the shift barely had time to leave the department before the next disaster hit.

That was the thing nobody warned new attendings about.

The emotional whiplash.

One second, you were saving somebody’s life in surgery, and the next, you were arguing with the pharmacy over the littlest things ever, and by 4 am, the ER was a nervous wreck.

Y/N stood beside the central desk, signing discharge paperwork while rubbing at the ache forming behind her eyes.

“You’ve got room twelve asking for morphine again,” Dana said without looking up.

“The guy with bipolar disorder?”

“Mhm.”

“He literally got Ativan an hour ago.”

“He says his ‘bones hurt.’”

Y/N sighed deeply. “Of course they do.”

Jack walked by at the exact moment she muttered it.

“You look thrilled to be here,” he commented casually.

“I’d rather eat glass.”

“That can probably be arranged in room six.”

Despite herself, the corner of her mouth twitched.

Jack noticed immediately.

Victory.

Then Dana pointed her pen toward the psych room. “Security’s tied up in the lobby with a dead patient, so can somebody please go deal with him before he starts screaming again?”

Y/N grabbed the chart.

“I’ll handle it.”

“Need backup?” Jack asked.

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I’m an attending physician, not a child..”

She rolled her eyes and disappeared into room twelve.

The second the door shut, the atmosphere changed.

The patient sat upright in bed twitching his knee rapidly. Mid 40’s. Sweaty. Agitated. Eyes moving too fast.

“I need morphine,” he snapped immediately.

“You don’t have an order for morphine.”

“You people never listen.”

“You’re medically stable.”

“My shoulder hurts.”

“You slept on it wrong obviously.”

His jaw clenched because Dear God was this man about to run her through a wall on her first day here.

Y/N kept her distance carefully while checking the monitor. “You need to calm down.”

“I AM CALM.”

Outside the room, Javadi was walking past with Whitaker, discussing labs, when suddenly they heard a crash.

Then another.

“HEY-”

He grabbed her by the throat so violently that her back slammed into the wall.

Everything happened impossibly fast.

The chart flew from her hands.

Her airway compressed instantly.

Y/N clawed at his wrists, trying to pry him off while he screamed nonsense directly in her face.

Outside, Javadi’s eyes widened.

“HULA HOOP!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Every resident and nurse in the department knew the code word immediately.

Violent patient.

Need help now.

The patient shoved Y/N harder against the wall while reaching wildly toward the sharps container mounted beside the bed.

“Oh shit,” Whitaker breathed.

The plastic container ripped halfway off the wall and somehow warped.

Needles rattled inside.

Y/N tried kneeing him in the stomach but he outweighed her badly and had leverage on her throat.

Then he got hold of a syringe.

And raised it.

Jack Abbot heard the scream from halfway down the hallway.

The second he registered Javadi yelling hula hoop he moved, faster than anyone expected with a prosthetic leg on.

By the time he reached the room, the patient had the needle raised toward Y/N’s neck.

He slammed into the guy so hard the entire bed shifted across the floor. The syringe flew from the patient’s handand somehow landed directly into the man’s foot.

The patient shrieked.

“GET SECURITY!” Dana yelled.

Jack had the guy face down on the floor in seconds, forearm pressed between his shoulder blades, while security finally flooded into the room.

“How the hell did y’all let him in?” Jack snapped furiously. “He’s a frequent violent flyer!”

“Nobody flagged him in triage,” Dana answered breathlessly.

Jack looked up immediately toward Y/N and she was still standing somehow with one hand wrapped around her throat.

She was breathing hard then her knees buckled.

Jack caught her before she hit the floor.

“Easy,” he said immediately, voice completely changing. Softer now. “Easy.”

“I’m fine,” she rasped.

“You are absolutely not fine.”

Her body folded forward automatically from adrenaline crash, and she landed directly against his chest.

Jack didn’t even hesitate.

He scooped her up before she could protest.

“I can walk,” she mumbled weakly.

“Don’t care.”

The entire nurses’ station watched him carry her into an open exam room, inside there Jack sat her carefully on the edge of the bed while grabbing gloves.

“You dizzy?”

“No.”

“Nauseous?”

“No.”

“You sure you aren’t about to pass out?”

Y/N gave him an exhausted look. “Yes.”

He crouched slightly in front of her, and started examining the bruising already forming around her throat.

“Jesus.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not comforting.”

She adjusted her scrub top carefully, then winced.

“My shoulder’s bleeding somewhere.”

Jack frowned immediately. “Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I can’t see unless you remove the scrub top.”

Y/N hesitated only a second before pulling the navy top over her head, leaving a black sports bra underneath.

Jack tried very hard not to look too long.

Failed a little.

There was a small puncture wound high near her shoulder where the needle had grazed her during the struggle.

“Shit,” he muttered quietly. “He got you good.”

“It’s tiny.”

“It’s still a puncture.”

He cleaned it carefully while she watched him up close like this, he looked older than she initially thought.

“You always tackle psych patients like action movie heroes?” she asked quietly.

“Only when it counts.”

Jack glanced up at her silence.

“You’ve got a kid?” he asked eventually after noticing the tiny pink bracelet tied around her ID badge that said Camilla in faded beads.

Y/N nodded.

“Daughter. Camilla. She’s five.”

Jack leaned back against the counter slightly. “Five’s a fun age.”

“She’s insane.”

“They usually are.”

“She cut her own Barbie’s hair last week and blamed Casper.”

Jack laughed silently aand then the room went silent, it wasnt awkward but she broke the ice again. 

“Recently divorced.”

His eyes lifted.

“He cheated,” she added bluntly. “With one of the nurses at his office.”

Jack grimaced immediately. “Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s shitty.”

“Turns out twelve years together means absolutely nothing to some people.”

Jack stayed quiet for a second before answering.

“My wife died two years ago.”

Y/N’s face softened instantly. “I’m sorry.”

Both being scarred sat heavily between them as something in common. He touched his prosthetic leg through his scrub pants.

“Army before medicine,” he added quietly. “Lost the leg overseas.”

That explained it.

“That’s… a lot,” Y/N admitted softly.

Jack huffed a laugh. “Yeah. You too.”

There was something strangely intimate about the room. Suddenly, Jack moved closer again to listen to her lungs carefully, one hand lightly against the center of her chest in case she swayed.

“Deep breath.”

She inhaled slowly.

Outside the room, one of the med students walked past the doorway.

Stopped.

Looked in.

Then immediately disappeared.

Thirty seconds later, the same med student passed again pretending to check vitals.

Y/N noticed instantly, but Jack didn’t because his back faced the door.

Another student walked in carrying charts and stopped dead in their tracks.

Jack’s hand rested lightly against Y/N’s chest while listening to her heartbeat. Y/N sat in just her scrub pants and a sports bra. Both of them looked exhausted and flushed.

He turned around and then blinked.

 “What?” Jack said defensively. “We weren’t fucking.”

By the end of that, Y/N disappeared into the locker room to change out of her disgusting scrubs while Jack waited outside, leaning against the wall.

“You driving okay?”

“I’m awake enough.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

She looked at him tiredly.

Then sighed.

“Walk me out?”

The waiting room was still packed with angry, exhausted people when they crossed through.

Someone actually whistled at her.

Y/N’s face twisted immediately.

“Ew. Disgusting.”

Jack stopped walking.

Turned slowly toward the guy.

And the expression on his face became so genuinely dangerous that the man immediately looked away.

Jack guided her out the ambulance entrance instead after that.

The morning air felt cold after the mental trauma of the ER. For a second, neither of them spoke, just exhausted silence. Then Y/N leaned against her car door, looking at him.

“Worst first shift ever.”

“Yeah,” he said. “But you handled it like you’ve been here longer than me, but in reality its only your first night here in The Pitt, and trust me, it never gets easier from here..”