Vigilante Shit // Bradley Bradshaw

18+ mdni (female reader who's implied to be younger. idk what this is y'all I just need Jack and Samira so bad)

thinking about Jack coming home from covering for someone on the day shift to find both his girls, you and Samira, making out on his bed. what gets him even more worked up? you two don't pay any attention to him, either because you haven't noticed him or you're truly just too focused on each other to care about anything else.

thinking about the obscene sounds of hungry lips exploring each other and desperate moaning filling out the bedroom as you and Samira grow needier for each other. the way the air slowly starts to feel heavier, becomes filled with your scent and hers mixing together with Jack's cologne. your hands roam all over her body as you can't help but start trailing kisses down her neck until you get to her collarbone. the lewd whine she lets out when you suck on her clavicle goes straight to Jack's cock and has you soaking your panties.

and Jack's a smart man, he's not gonna interrupt his girls and get in the way of perfection. instead, he opts for pulling his cock out of his boxers to fist it, slowly at first. he watches as you move on to Samira's naked chest, taking a nipple in your mouth while you twist the other with your fingers. he can see how much you're trying to take it easy, but he knows how much you love her tits. and just as he expected, Samira yelps as you resort to biting and sucking instead of the gentle suckling you'd been doing previously.

you release your girlfriend's abused nipple with a plop sound before looking at her. and it's like you two can just communicate through one look, because next thing he knows, Jack is watching you and her giggle like the two little brats you are.

"so, doctor Abbot, are you finally gonna join us or has old age finally caught up to your body?"

you don't have to ask him twice

Masterlist

last updated on 08/09/2024

Bold stories or chapters are SMUT/NSFW

Jake Hangman Seresin (Top Gun Maverick)

The girl behind the bar (Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4.1

Part 4.2

Part 5.1

Chibs Telford (Sons of Anarchy)

Chibs x plus-size reader (18+ throught, minors DNI!!)

A new job

Boys will be boys

Party at the clubhouse

Late night

Aftermath

Dress-up

Dress down

Car troubles

Part of the business

Better offer

Lockdown

A New Home

Maybe baby

Oh so horrible

Henry Cavill Masterlist

Sebastian Stan

Sebastian x Anna (OFC) Series

Nightcap

The universe can be a bitch  Part 1  Part 2

What happens in New York…  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5 Part 6  Part 7

Requests

Morning kisses (Ben Hardy fluff)

Imagines

You win an Oscar (Ben Hardy fluff)

Joe’s daughter (Joe Mazzello fluff)

BoRap Cast

Unexpectedly expecting (Ben Hardy x reader)

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10  Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14 (unfinished)

Prove it to me (Ben Hardy x plus-size reader)

My new favorite t-shirt (Ben Hardy x plus-size reader)

PRESSing matters (Ben Hardy x reader)

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10  Part 11

At the BAFTAs after party (main story)

- Gwil Part

- Joe Part

- Ben Part

Alex Hogh Andersen

Temporary Roommate (Alex x Reader)

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13

Hvitserk

The gift (Hvitserk x OC x Magrethe)

My AO3 account

Katherine Luann Morrow

☆★-> // SOA Masterlist// <-★☆

All posts where Katherine appears:

(each can be read as a stand alone or as a series, and I will do my best to keep them listed here in chronological order)

♡ Fun and Responsibility

♡ Princess Band-aids Can Fix Broken Hearts

♡ Muffin Dragon and Blue Bunny (new)

♡ Hopscotch Headache

♡ Too Young For Boys

♡ Freedom and Florals

♡ Boxes and Orange Juice

♡ Flower Crowns

♡ Flower Crowns Pt.2

Daughter to Clay and Gemma

There is a 14 year age gap between her and Jax she was born a year after JT died 👀

Works as an assistant to the town florist Mrs Miller she is very stern and disapproving of the club and their activities.

Mrs Miller and the florists v

Her parents, Jax, and all of the club are very protective of her she doesn't hang around the club house much outside of lockdowns and charity events.

She has her own apartment on the quieter side of town, which she has turned into her own cosy sanctuary, and occasionally used as a place for an outer chartermember to lay their head, wash their clothes, catch a shower and some food as they only have 2 dorm rooms at the club.

(As I think that's what the family members of the club would do its just expected of them I think, and as she is the daughter of a founding member and the president anyone who stays are very respectful)

Her apartment inspo:

Chibbs, Bobby, Tig, Otto, and Piney are like her Uncles as they watched her grow up from a baby and often watched her when her parents asked.

Out of all the other club members, excluding her dad and brother, she is closer to Juice as when he was prospecting he was told to help her move out into her apartment and whenever the florists had a big order she'd often borrow the club van and he'd be the one to drop it off and stay for a chat.

If you have any questions or want to request a scenario about Katherine, feel free to put them in my ask box. I'll do my best to answer them as quickly as I can.

𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

(formerly @𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢-𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦-𝐢𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬)

(𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭) - request something :)

𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

pierced. pt. 3 | spencer reid.

Spencer wanted this date to go perfectly, he wanted to treat you like a princess and maybe even land a second date... but why is Hotch calling?

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 4

cw: fem!reader, kissing, slight angst, fluffy

a/n: kicking my feet fr

You started getting ready two hours earlier than you normally would.

Sure, you had been on dates before, but you could confidently say you’d never been this excited to go on a date before. You’d been on the odd blind date that your friend from back home set up, but they usually went as well as you’d expect a date with a misogynistic frat boy with mommy issues to go… not great. After Spencer had walked you home, and called to ask you out for dinner, you were utterly giddy. 

You barely got any sleep that night, your mind and heart racing a mile a minute thinking about the kiss you shared outside your apartment building. You spent the most of the afternoon picking out an outfit, staring at your body in the mirror while you turned side on, front on, side on again to make sure your ass looked good (it did).

You asked Spencer to tell you where he was taking you, because you really didn’t want to be underdressed or overdressed. He insisted it was nothing fancy but a man’s idea of fancy and a woman’s idea of fancy are very different things.

You picked something that felt like the best of both worlds, a semi-formal mini dress and dressed down with your favourite knitted cardigan. You spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready, styling your hair, picking jewellery and shoes and doing your makeup. 

You had been excited the whole day but as 6pm got closer and closer, you started to get nervous. It had been a while since you’d gone on a date with someone you felt you really liked and wanted to impress, it was a strange feeling.

Spencer knocked on your door at exactly 6pm. You were in the middle of pulling applying your lipgloss when he knocked. You cursed quietly to yourself, thinking you had way more time than you actually did. You’d hoped he’d be at least a little bit late. He was a genius though, punctuality was kind of his thing. 

You almost tripped over your shoes running to the front door, a cleaning task you would tackle when you got home. You pulled the door open with a smile beaming across your face. Your heart fluttered at the sight of Spencer’s precious face peeking over a bouquet of pink tulips.

“Hi,” he said softly with a tight lipped smile. He held the tulips out toward you, “for you.”

“Spencer…” you pouted at the gesture, taking the tulips from his grasp. “They’re so beautiful.”

“Garcia said flowers would make a good impression,” he lied, he actually read a considerable amount of articles and first date guides all day at work. But Garcia did help him pick the flowers.

“Well, she was right. Tulips are my favourite,” you grinned, turning back into your apartment to find and fill a vase. “Come in, I won’t be a minute, I just need to put my shoes on and grab my purse.”

Spencer awkwardly stepped into your apartment, glancing around at the now fully decorated space, a far cry from what it looked like just 3 weeks ago. You quickly went to put your shoes on and put some money, your lipgloss and perfume in your purse. You closed the door to your bedroom and paused, staring at Spencer as he squatted down and rubbed Tofu’s belly.

“Made a new friend?” You asked.

Spencer smiled with utter delight, “She’s so fluffy.”

You giggled at Spencer’s response, grabbing the keys for your apartment off the kitchen counter. Spencer dusted the cat fur off his pants before spinning on his heel to face you, “ready to go?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. You stepped closer until you were just in front of him, you reached up and adjusted his tie gently. “You look very handsome.”

His cheeks felt hot, “T-thank you… You-! You look really nice too- beautiful! You look beautiful…” he stammered, exaggeratedly gesturing at your appearance.

You giggled softly, “thank you, Spence… Shall we?”

“Yes, yes, right,” he replied, quickly scurrying to the door to open it for you.

The two of you made your way down to his car and he made a point to run ahead of you when you left your apartment building to open his passenger door for you. He was intensely determined to be a gentleman, wanting to give you a good impression so maybe you’d go on another date with him, maybe even come to Rossi’s dinner party next week. But he was getting ahead of himself, he should probably focus on the road.

“...So where are you taking me?” You asked, glancing out the car window at the city speeding by. 

“It’s one of my favourite places,” he replied, hands nervously gripping the wheel. “I… hope you like it.”

“I’m just happy to spend time with you, Spencer… We could sit on the pavement outside a seven eleven and I’d be thrilled,” you grinned, folding your hands in your lap as you watched him glance at you. You watched him for a moment, chuckling to yourself whenever he would glance down at your lap then clear his throat.

Spencer was really trying to keep his eyes on the road, but your plush thighs in the corner of his eye were proving to be very distracting. He had never had a pretty girl in his passenger seat before, especially not a girl he was taking on a date. 

Spencer drove for maybe 30 minutes before he pulled into a parking lot. Once he parked, he quickly got out of the car and did a little run around the front to open your door for you, reaching to help you out of his car.

Spencer held his elbow out for you and you linked arms, your hand gently holding his upper arm. There was a long line up outside the restaurant, people talking and laughing, clearly it was a popular spot. Spencer was stiff with nervousness, his hands clammy as you leaned your temple against his shoulder.

“You okay?” You questioned gently.

He nodded quickly, “Yeah, just… I’ve never been on a proper date before.”

You pouted, “well don’t be nervous. I’m only here for you, Spence. I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

Spencer’s phone suddenly rang in his jacket pocket. You quickly let go of his arm as he pulled it out of his pocket, staring at Hotch’s caller ID. He hesitated for a moment, knowing it was work and he would likely have to leave. Spencer looked at you with such sadness and disappointment in his eyes.

“Work?” You asked softly.

“Yeah… But I-”

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you smiled sadly. “Your job’s important.”

Spencer sighed before stepping away from the line and answering the call. You couldn’t hear what he was saying but he sounded upset given his gestures and frantic running of his hand through his hair. After a minute he hung up, slipping his phone in his pocket. He looked at you sadly, opening his mouth to say something but you cut him off.

“It’s okay, Spencer,” you held his face softly. “You go, I’ll get a cab, okay? And when you get back you can tell me all about how you kicked ass, okay?”

Spencer breathed out a laugh and nodded timidly, “Okay.”

“Go,” you said, letting go of his face as he quickly darted away to his car. He was almost out of sight when you watched him turn back, running back to you. He quickly planted a kiss on your lips, breathing hard against you. You smiled against his lips and held his cheek in your hand. He pulled away just as fast, your lipgloss smeared along his lips. You wiped it off with your thumb, “okay, now go.”

“I’ll call you,” he breathed, kissing your cheek quickly before running off.

It killed him leaving you there. Spencer wasn’t someone who got angry that easily but he was in a bad mood about this. He charged through the bullpen that night like a bulldozer, ready to set fire to anyone who dared ask him ‘how he was’. Morgan, JJ and Emily sensed the crankiness the moment Spencer pulled his chair out and sat down with a thud, crossing his arms angrily. 

“Rough night, lover boy?” Morgan asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Wasn’t much of a night at all, really,” Spencer retorted with an attitude.

“Woah, woah, what happened?” Emily questioned, eyes narrowing at Spencer.

“I had a date, okay? That girl you met last night? Y/N? I was taking her to my favourite restaurant and then Hotch called and I-” Spencer had to stop himself before he blew up. His lips formed a tight line as he stared at the table, not daring to look up.

“Aw, Spence…” JJ sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t help,” Spencer mumbled. He spent the rest of their meeting in a foul mood, barely listening to JJ as she listed the details of their next case. They were never usually called in on their days off but after almost twenty bodies, the BAU had a lot cut out for them.

“We’ll leave in two hours,” Hotch dismissed. Spencer was first up, grabbing the small stack of files and pushing toward the door to go to his desk. Morgan and Emily looked at each other, sharing a look of disbelief over Spencer’s crankiness. 

Spencer sat at his desk pushing his pen around, barely touching the cup of sugar with a splash of coffee that JJ got for him. All he could think about was how you probably wouldn’t talk to him again after this, he knew this job came with sacrifices, but he just wanted one thing, one thing, to himself.

“You okay, Reid?” Penelope asked softly. 

Spencer glanced up at her, letting out a sigh, “I was on a date with Y/N before this… We didn’t even get to sit down.”

Penelope’s shoulders slumped at his words, “I’m sure you’ll be able to make it up to her,” she said hopefully. 

Spencer nodded slowly, “I hope so.”

Penelope stepped away to answer a phone call and Spencer was left feeling sorry for himself at his desk for the next 30 minutes, going through his mind the different things he could say or do to make it up to you. Maybe he should call you? Text you? Drop by when he gets back? Or maybe he could buy you another cat as a peace offering-

“Is this seat taken?”

Spencer’s head shot up from his desk, coming face to face with you, your hand resting on the empty chair by his desk.

“Y/N? What are you-”

“I called Penelope,” you answered, “She told me you weren’t leaving for another hour so… I thought I’d bring dinner?”

You held out a plastic bag of take away food from the restaurant he took you to. You asked Penelope what his favourite thing on the menu was and bought some extra for yourself. Spencer looked like a kicked puppy as he stared up at you in disbelief.

He stood up and quickly hugged you, making you chuckle at the sudden affection. You felt your face heat up at all the eyes suddenly on you and Spencer. Morgan whooped from his desk, cheering loudly and obnoxiously, prompting Spencer to pull away from you.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer whispered.

“You don’t have to apologise, Spence,” you replied. “You love your job and it’s important,” you shrugged, placing the plastic bag on his desk.

“God, you’re so sweet it’s killing me,” Emily grumbled, walking by with a fresh cup of coffee. She pointed at Spencer, brows raised, “keep her.”

You and Spencer shared a laugh before he pulled a chair over closer to his for you. You sat down and pulled your takeaway dinner from the plastic bag, letting Spencer tell you all about the restaurant and why this specific meal was his absolute favourite. His knees brushed against yours under his desk and he just revelled in the comfort of your company.

“So, what’s your new case?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“Uh, well,” he trailed off.

“You can’t tell me, huh?” You chuckled.

“Not really, sorry,” he replied. “I’m sure it’ll be on the news tomorrow.”

“Right, well. I’m sure deep down I don’t really wanna know,” you shrugged.

He nodded, “the cases we work aren’t exactly pleasant.” Spencer sighed, “I wish we could have actually had a date.”

“This is a date,” you replied. “Is it not?”

“Well… I mean, it’s just not what I wanted for our first date.”

“Like I said Spence, you could take me to a seven eleven and I’d have a blast,” you chuckled, reaching over to run a thumb across his cheek. “You can make it up to be on our second date.”

Spencer quickly looked at you, “Second date?”

“Yeah… only if you want to?”

“Yes, yeah. I want to,” he replied almost too fast. You smiled sweetly at him, a piece of your hair falling from behind your ear. Oh yeah, he’s done for.

a/n: had you in the first half, didn't i... dare i say you've pierced his heart, HAHAHAH

taglist: @crazycat-ladys-blog @cillsnostalgia @secretly-tumb1r

i am obsessed with jack yapping to robby so he feels a bit better so could i req a scenario of jack and reader having a nasty argument and reader gets overwhelmed af so she gets some fresh air and he follows soon after and just yaps ur ear off and tries to land some jokes cos hes a loser #please ❤️ i love ur work

"bc he's a loser" LMAO (thankyouu!!)

Don’t Walk Away From Me|Pairing: Jack Abbott x Reader

The door slammed behind you harder than you meant. Not that it mattered.

Your hands were shaking as you leaned on the rusted railing of the hospital's back steps, the chill of Pittsburgh air cutting through your scrubs like paper. You just needed a second. A breath. A break from—

"Okay, wow." Jack’s voice followed seconds later. "So we’re slamming doors now? Cool. Was just wondering where we landed on the maturity scale today."

You didn’t turn around.

"I needed air, Jack. That’s all."

"Right. And you had to get it dramatically. Like mid-argument Broadway walk-off level dramatic."

You clenched your jaw, the tears building against your will. “I’m not doing this right now.”

"No, no, you don’t get to ‘not do this.’ You stormed out after basically accusing me of—what? Caring too much? Being too involved? Forgive me for giving a shit, sweetheart."

"Jack," you snapped, whipping around, "you talk over me constantly when you're mad. You bulldoze every feeling I have until I’m so spun around I start questioning if I’m even making sense."

You looked up at him—storm in your eyes, chaos in your chest. “I needed one thing today. One ounce of support, and instead I got that—whatever that was in there.”

Jack blinked. The words landed harder than you expected. He stepped back, rubbed a hand down his face, then sighed, soft.

“Okay,” he said finally. “I deserved that.”

Silence.

He shifted awkwardly. You knew he wasn’t good at this. Processing feelings that weren’t neatly filed under ‘sarcasm’ or ‘making dumb jokes to defuse tension.’ But he tried. Always tried.

“I’m… not good at being wrong,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “Or scared. Especially not both at the same time.”

He glanced over at you, squinting in the streetlight glow.

“But for the record,” he added with a smirk, “I was mostly mad because you looked me in the eye and told me you didn’t need me. That was rude. And honestly? False. You definitely need me. I keep this operation charming.”

You laughed—more like a watery scoff—but he grinned like he’d just won an award.

“There it is,” he said, stepping closer. “The laugh. God, I missed that. Felt like I was arguing with a robot version of you in there. Kind of scary.”

“You’re such an idiot.”

He nodded solemnly. “Certified. But I’m your idiot, and I’m trying here, okay?”

You shook your head, but you didn’t move when he came close. He didn’t touch you, not yet, just stood there breathing beside you, both of you watching your breath cloud in the cold.

After a beat, he nudged you with his elbow. “Want me to sing you a sad song about it? I can do jazz hands.”

“I will push you down these stairs.”

“Romance isn’t dead,” he whispered, mock wounded.

You cracked a smile. Just barely.

And then Jack finally reached for your hand—tentatively, reverently—and laced his fingers with yours.

“I love you,” he said, quiet this time. “Even when we’re fighting. Especially then, actually, because you’re mean as hell when you’re angry and I find it wildly hot. Just FYI.”

You rolled your eyes but squeezed his hand back. “You’re exhausting.”

“Yep. But you keep coming back. Guess that means we’re stuck.”

You leaned into his shoulder. “Guess so.”

And for the first time that day, you finally breathed.

filling an empty vase - roy kent x reader

pairing: roy kent x reader

word count: 3.4k (genuinely don't know how that happened)

warnings: language (duh) and some suggestive themes. the word shagging, which is too british not to include i'm afraid

a/n: this was an anonymous request that i'm not going to put here because it kinda ruins the whole plot! but it was such a fabulous request, so thank you anon, for giving me so much space to play. if you're not sure this is your request, you mentioned "Mr I Never Smile Kent" which funnily enough, made me smile!! enjoy sunflowers <3

---

You were such a professional in so many ways, but yet again you found your focus drifting during your meeting with the rest of the coaches. Your eyes find Roy’s face with such ease, lingering on the newly thicker beard he’s been sporting recently, then travelling down to broad shoulders, ones that fill out the door frame so nicely when he folds his arms. You’re so lucky he’s always folding his arms.

Before you can move onto admiring those arms, you see his head turn towards you and you look away before you can be caught. Instead of glancing at his face to see if he’s still looking at you, you decide it’s easier to join the conversation. As the goalkeeping coach, there isn’t always much you can contribute to these discussions, but they’re very insistent on including you.

“The only thing you need to be careful of is their counter-press,” you chime in, “Mind that the boys don’t get complacent in possession or my guy will be a sitting duck out there.”

“Good thinkin, Abe Lincoln. Why don’t we add that to our pre-game talk, coach, make sure someone’s watchin’ Zoreaux’s back at all times?”

“Already writing it down, coach,” Beard replied, gaining a double thumbs up from Ted who then continued talking. Even though you’d hardly been listening, you knew to do enough research beforehand so that you were free to let your mind wander and only speak up with a few key points.

You tune back in when you recognise the gruff tone of the very man you’re trying not to admire again.

“No. Y/N stole my fucking thing. I’ve gone over the rest in training,” he says dryly, and you duck your head to your lap to hide your smirk. Of course the two of you were on the same page about strategy, you always were. Usually he got to say it before you though, “Can we go now?”

“Unless anyone’s got anythin’ they want to add?” Ted looks around at everyone’s blank and frankly, very tired faces, “Not even somethin’ personal? Deep dark secret? Scandalous love affair, that kinda thing? Higgins, you look like there’s somethin’ right on the tip of that tongue.”

“I’m leaving,” Roy announced, walking into his office and shutting the door, even going so far as to shut the blinds on both windows before he presumably sat at his desk. You sighed and got up from your perch on the desk to take a step towards the dressing room.

“Afraid I’ve got some work to get done before I go home too,” you say, trying to be at least slightly nicer than Roy about it, “We can get personal tomorrow, alright Ted?”

He agrees with a happy grin on his face and you say goodbye to him, Beard and Trent collectively with a salute before turning on your heel and waving a goodbye to any of the team still around as you leave. You don’t go far. Unable to help yourself, you knock on Roy’s office door from the other side and shuffle your weight between your feet as you wait.

“Fuck off,” comes the greeting, so you open the door and slip inside.

“Even if it’s me?”

His head turns at the sound of your voice and suddenly his features look a special kind of soft, even in the harsh overhead lighting. He swivels his chair fully to face you, but makes no other move.

“Especially if it’s you,” he confirms, folding his arms again like he knew the effect he had on you, “You’re a fucking pervert.”

You gasp, clutching at the door handle behind you in a show of shock.

“I’m a what?”

“You heard me. Staring at me like you do in meetings wasn’t in your job description when we hired you, last I checked.”

“Last I checked, shagging your goalkeeping coach wasn’t in your job description, but you made pretty quick work of it.”

That was enough to get him moving. He’s quick out of his chair for a man with a bad knee, quick to crowd you against the wall just next to the door. Someone would have to really peer in to see the two of you, something he’d probably calculated even though your mind was already blank at the new proximity. 

“You’re right,” he says, voice sinfully low, hands either side of your hips but not touching you yet, “And I was staring at you the whole fucking meeting anyway, so I’m a pervert and a hypocrite.”

“Well, I don’t know if I can keep on with you if you’re both. One of them, maybe I can look past it, but both?”

Finally, one hand comes off the wall to stroke a line down your side with the backs of his knuckles. You try not to give him the satisfaction of shivering, but fail miserably.

“Think you can brave it?” he murmurs, that same hand brushing along your cheekbone, still all rough knuckles instead of his palm, “I’ll take you to Big Tesco later.”

Your whole face brightens despite the heavy tension that had settled like a mist in the room. You reach up to gently hold his wrist, stroking a thumb back and forth over the pulse that jumped there.

“Shit, you know the way to a girl’s heart, Kent,” you whisper, syrupy and cloying, “I take it all back. We can go as long as you like.”

The innuendo drew the growl from him that you’d been hoping for. The hand at your cheek was quick to turn until he was cupping your face and pulling you into him, kissing you deep and slow and longingly. Each kiss with him was better than the last. Yes, it had started hot and desperate after a month of unbearable electricity between you, a rushed encounter at a hotel after a particularly adrenaline-filled away game. 

Ever since, Roy had slowed things down. Not in the way you’d perhaps expected - he was still hot and heavy whenever the two of you got the chance, but he was taking his time with you. Teasing and learning. Nobody had ever treated you like this before, like you were something to be revered. Worshipped.

It was the same now, as he anchored himself with a hand on your back, pulling you further in, kissing you with genuine hunger.

“Roy? Can I come and get my stuff.”

Trent. It was always Trent. You liked the man so much, spent a lot of time with him, in fact, but if he interrupted you and Roy one more time, you had half a mind to hide his manuscript or something.

Roy did his special silent groan that he did whenever he couldn’t groan aloud, where he glared at the ceiling as he broke away from you and then clenched his fists in front of him. It was adorable, not that you would tell him that.

“All good,” you whisper, despite it definitely not being all good. It was entirely a joint decision not to tell the team about the two of you yet, but sometimes you wished you could announce it to the whole fucking world if it would get you some alone time.

You squeeze his hand and slip away to the adjoining door between his and Ted’s office. You hear Roy grunt for Ted to come in behind you, but you squeeze through into the other room before you hear any more of their inevitably one-sided conversation. Ted turns to you brightly as you enter.

“Decided you wanted to get personal sooner, Y/N?” he grins, and you can tell he isn’t really serious.

“Just forgot my keys,” you said sheepishly, retrieving them from the desk where you’d left them completely on purpose. It was always good to have a back-up plan and Roy wasn’t the only quick thinker between you, “See you tomorrow, Coach.”

“Can’t wait, coach!”

As you exit for real this time, glancing into Roy’s office as you pass, you take out your phone to shoot him a text. You’re saved under an unassuming name in his phone, so even if Trent sees it, he’ll be none the wiser.

We’re still on for tonight, right? The way I navigate a Big Tesco will blow your mind x

You press send with a smile to yourself, continuing on towards your office to pack up for the evening. Your phone buzzes before you even get there.

You blow my mind every fucking day. See you soon x

God, you could clutch your phone to your chest and squeal in the corridor, but instead, you speed up your walk to get home as quickly as possible. There was no harm in getting all dressed up to go to the supermarket when you were going with an insanely fit professional footballer, you reasoned.

---

Big Tesco. The place dreams are made of, or at least it was when you were younger and felt like you could get lost in the aisles and never return. Nowadays, it was likely nostalgia that kept you coming back, but it still felt like your first Big Tesco trip with Roy was a pretty big deal.

Mainly you needed snacks for movie night, but Roy was happy to indulge you and drive twenty minutes away for this if that’s what you wanted.

“If we’re doing Julia Roberts, we have to do Pretty Woman, obviously.”

“And Erin fucking Brockovich,” Roy agreed, “But if we do Sandra Bullock, we get the modern day masterpiece that is Miss Congeniality.”

“Oh, I still need to see that one!”

Roy stops, Pringles tube hovering above the trolley. He looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time and he doesn’t like what he sees.

“Right, we’re doing Bullock then, if I have to fucking culture you as well as buy your snacks.”

“We’re splitting the snacks-”

“The fuck we are,” he cut in, already contradicting himself, “I was fucking joking, please can we not get into another snack debate. You bought them last time.”

“Fine. And I’m happy with Sandy, too, so you win twice, buddy,” you grin at him, not expecting him to grin back but ecstatic when he does. You have half a mind to press him up against the Doritos and finish what you’d started earlier, but you have plenty of time for that in appropriate places later.

You had all night, in fact, post-Sandra Bullock marathon. The thought brings a particular movie to mind.

“As long as we throw Two Weeks Notice in there too.”

“Hugh Grant? No.”

“Oh come on, he’s a national treasure,” you argue, sliding your arm through his as the two of you continue your journey through the aisles.

“He’s a fucking idiot, is what he is,” Roy bites back, as he picks up the chocolate he knows you love, “I’ll allow The Proposal.”

“You know what, that’s a better choice anyway. We have a deal if we can make a stop in the homeware section after this?” you say hopefully, excited when he sighs and nods. You kiss his shoulder as you continue walking, “We’re so fucking good at this compromising shit!”

You lean away from him enough to hold your hand up for a high five. He indulges you reluctantly with a light slap from his own.

“We are. It’s cause I’m so fucking nice.”

“To me,” you add, staring up at him as he slows the trolley to a stop beside the biscuits. He takes your face in his hands after a moment.

“To you, yeah,” he agrees, voice all soft like it had been earlier. You’re not going to kiss him senseless in a supermarket, the two of you had some shame and a lot of love for privacy, but it was nice to indulge in something like this, a sweet moment shared without fear of anyone seeing the two of you. You turn your head to kiss his palm, “You’ve sent me all fucking soft.”

“You love it.”

“Love you, more like,” he says, for the first fucking time, in a Big Tesco. You’d found out you were getting a party bus for your 10th birthday here too, so it was a location for big occasions. You kiss his palm; once, twice, three times.

“You have to say the I or it doesn’t mean anything,” you tease, but you’re beaming up at him as he strokes the skin underneath your eyes and you almost let them flutter shut.

“Who fucking told you that? Sounds like shit Jamie would say.”

“Jan Maas.”

“Fucking prick,” he says, then a moment later, “I love you, then, if you fucking insist.”

“I do insist,” you giggle, leaning forward until your face is in his chest so you can safely say: “I love you too.”

Its a little muffled, but thankfully he doesn’t ask you to repeat it again like you think he will. He just wraps his arms around your shoulders and keeps you close to him for a long while.

“Roy? Hey boyo!!”

You freeze in place, face still hidden. If anything, Roy’s arms tighten around you rather than letting go as he turns to see Colin waving at him, alongside Sam, Isaac, Jamie and the aforementioned Jan Maas. They all pile over towards him and you know its a matter of time before they realise its you. Jamie’s already bounding over as if he’s won the lottery.

“Roy’s got a girl! A real woman, like!” Jamie exclaims as he reaches them and you decide to get this over with sooner than later, lifting your head to stare at him wearily. He frowns, “Oh. Y/N, hiya.”

Of course he isn’t connecting any dots. He isn’t quite the connecting type, however much you love him to little pieces. Sam is staring at you a lot more knowingly, Isaac stuck with his mouth open. They’ve all caught on a little quicker than Jamie.

“The two of you together,” Jan muses, “I do not believe this is a pairing made to last.”

“Oi, Jan Maas,” Isaac pipes up, especially as Roy’s already stepped forward to threaten him, “Not cool.”

“I am just telling you the truth. You are both a little grumpy, you will not have the needed balance.”

“We’re balancing perfectly fucking well, thank you,” Roy says, and you can hear that he’s gritting his teeth, “As a team. Of coaches. Because that’s what we fucking are.”

Oh, he was going to play the ‘it wasn’t what it looked like’ card? You weren’t expecting it, but you’d happily back him up if he wanted you to.

“You are telling me that was a friend hug?” Sam asks, voice full of disbelief. You look up at Roy to see what he’ll say to that, but he’s already looking down at you with an untraceable look on his face. When he finally looks back at the boys, he takes your hand in his.

“No. It was a fucking boyfriend-girlfriend hug, alright? Any of you tell anyone before we do and I’ll feed you to a fucking monitor lizard.”

You’d watched a documentary about them last night that had likely led to that threat. Jamie’s snickering but tries to sober up when Roy immediately turns to him. He holds his hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry mate, I am, I’ve jus’ never heard a grown man say ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ before,” he says, back to giggling by the end of his sentence and Jan Maas is quick to dissolve into full blown laughter. You bring a hand up to your mouth to hide your own amusement, lest Roy feel betrayed by it.

“Right, fuck off and leave us alone then. We’re on a tight fucking movie night schedule and I won’t have you twats throwing us off.”

“Hey! That’s why we’re here! If we’re all doing movie night, why don’t you join us?” Sam asks, and you can see he’s teasing even if Roy can’t tell. Still, you take it as an opportunity to stake your claim as you wrap an arm around Roy’s bicep and cling to him.

“Look, you lot hog this man all day every day. I’m taking him home and we’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

It was very Roy of you, just with the addition of a wink at the end that told the boys you were half-joking. Jamie seemed almost impressed, while Sam was trying not to laugh at you. That man never took you seriously, and you loved it.

“We’ll leave you to it then,” Isaac decided, dragging Jamie backwards a little by the collar when he opened his mouth to tease Roy one final time, “Enjoy your night, yeah? See you tomorrow.”

Roy grunted his goodbye, but you waved back at them when they waved, mostly at you. Jamie mouthed something at Roy but, luckily for you both, Roy couldn’t work it out.

“Pricks,” he mutters once they’re far away enough not to hear him and you let out a little snort.

“They were very nice about that, you know? I was expecting a lot worse,” you said, pleasantly surprised at the lack of proper teasing. You knew there was likely more to come once they’d had a while to process it, but still. There was a certain weight lifted knowing that someone had finally been told.

“Do people not say boyfriend-girlfriend anymore?” he asks abruptly, looking down at you from where you’re still clinging to him. You grin at up at him.

“We should bring it back. I love boyfriend-girlfriend. I think that’s how we should introduce ourselves to people from now on.”

He rolled his eyes at the sarcasm in your voice, but tugged you into a quick, public appropriate kiss nonetheless.

“Let’s get you some fucking hobnobs and then we can go and look at fancy glassware, yeah?,” he announces, shaking his head with such obvious fondness when you cheer and turn to the biscuits. He stays close, a hand hovering near your back, and you’re a little worried movie night might be forgotten when you get home given how handsy the two of you have been all day. You resume your shopping tucked into his side, and only bump into the boys twice more on your trip around the wonders of Big Tesco.

Later, when you’re eventually curled into Roy’s side during a movie night that started way later than intended, your phone buzzes a few too many times in a row to ignore. You glance at Roy quizzically as you grab it, seeing a bunch of texts coming in from Sam.

Couldn’t resist. Don’t let Roy hate me. I’ve deleted them on my phone now, so they’re just yours. Lunch tomorrow?

Roy grumbled a little beside you as he read over your shoulder, but really he should have gotten used to your occasional lunch plans with Sam by now, even if he liked having you all to himself for at least one hour during the day. You settle into him even more as you scroll through a bunch of photos Sam’s attached with wide eyes.

You staring up at Roy. Roy kissing you. The grins on both your faces when you part. Then one that has you reeling, where you’re facing the biscuits with your hands on your hips and Roy is looking at you. Enthralled. You’re not even fucking doing anything.

“That little shit,” Roy breathes, squeezing your thigh where his hand was already resting.

“I love them,” you say instead of responding, tilting your head back to look at Roy, “Our first proper photos together.”

“They look like a fucking pap took them,” he complains, but he's still studying them and you can tell he likes them really.

“Look how happy we look," you’re stuck on how he looks at you when you’re not even looking at him. When there’s nothing to be gained from it. You glance at the new vase sitting on your coffee table, with fresh flowers Roy had insisted on because 'if we're getting a fucking vase we have to fucking fill it'. Here he was, filling your life with so many little pieces of joy.

“Well we are fucking happy, aren’t we?”

There's a little bit of vulnerability in his question, like he needs confirmation. You lock your phone and toss it to the side, knowing you can reply to Sam in a bit. For now, you pause the movie and clamber to straddle Roy’s lap, seeing that look on his face again as he stares up at you. It only spurs you on.

“We’re very fucking happy, Roy.”

He grins, which is rare, but then he kisses you and that’s not rare at all.

(roy makes a mental note to thank sam for the pictures tomorrow, even if he tells him to do extra laps in the same sentence to maintain the balance)

break in the system

paring. jack abbot x wife/doctor!reader

warnings. age gap (jack late 40s, reader early 30s), hospital setting, descriptive child injury and recovery, no death, jack and reader are parents of a 6yo boy, no physical descriptors used for reader, reader has a sister, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. always in my dad!jack era, please feel free to send me idea like this I serious love them so much. please enjoy, this one is a nice hurt/comfort fic. as always please enjoy and any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 2400+

It was a rare, golden kind of morning. The kind you almost didn’t trust, because it was too smooth.

Jack had brewed coffee before either of you had to ask. You’d packed Mason’s favorite snacks while he sat sleepily at the kitchen island, rubbing his eyes and swinging his little feet under the stool. He was wearing his Spider-Man shirt today, matched with a pair of black shorts. His soft curls sticking up in every direction.

Your sister arrived just after sunrise, toting a canvas bag filled with activities and snacks and promising him a park trip and a stop for ice cream if he was good.

“You ready for a super fun day with Aunty?” she asked, ruffling Mason’s hair.

“Super tired is more like it,” Jack muttered around his coffee, but he kissed your cheek and then bent to kiss the top of Mason’s head too. “You be good, buddy.”

“I am good,” Mason answered, matter-of-fact.

You all laughed. It was one of those small, perfect family moments you didn’t think to savor until later.

At the hospital, the day passed in that rare, deceptively smooth rhythm. You took vitals, gave meds, reassessed post-op pain levels. Jack floated between trauma calls and consults, his voice calm and clinical when needed, still managing a wink when your paths crossed in the hallway. The familiarity of working alongside him was strangely comforting—a rhythm you’d both mastered through the years of shared chaos.

It was nearing noon when you finally took a breath. You leaned back in the break room, sipping lukewarm coffee, your phone resting silent on the table. You stared at the lock screen—Mason’s smiling face, missing front tooth, sunshine and freckles—without even realizing you were smiling at it.

Jack walked in and flopped down across from you, stretching his legs out with a groan. “Quiet today. I don’t trust it.”

“You never trust a quiet shift,” you replied with a soft laugh.

“Because quiet means it’s coming,” he said, tapping his temple like he could feel the shift in energy.

You shook your head, teasing, “Your trauma-sense tingling again?”

He was about to quip back when the trauma pager went off.

You both jumped—not dramatically, but instinctively, the way people do when muscle memory kicks in before thought.

Jack unclipped his pager and read aloud: "Level 1 peds trauma, ETA 2 minutes. Six-year-old male. Head trauma with LOC. Fall at park."

Your stomach dropped a full three inches. Jack went still beside you.

It wasn’t unusual. Kids came in hurt all the time.

But your brain was already moving ahead, shuffling information like puzzle pieces, trying to ignore how familiar it sounded.

Six-year-old. Male. Fall at the park. Level 1 trauma. Loss of consciousness.

It was just a coincidence.

Jack stood, voice a little tighter now. “Come on. Let’s go.”

You moved in practiced sync, already heading toward Trauma Bay 2, the air feeling a little thicker than it had ten minutes ago. You didn’t say it—not yet. Not even to each other.

You didn’t say anything.

Because you couldn’t. Not until you knew, and gut feelings didn’t count for the truth. 

And the moment the trauma doors slammed open and you saw the flash of a small Spider-Mant t-shirt beneath bloodied gauze and an oxygen mask—and suddenly your world tilted.

It was him.

The trauma bay erupted into controlled chaos the moment the gurney rolled through the doors.

You were at the foot of the bed, frozen for half a second before instinct kicked in. Jack was already moving forward, eyes locked on the little boy lying so still under the oxygen mask.

You didn’t even have to say his name.

The Spider-Man shirt. The Freckles. The curls matted with dried blood. It was Mason.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, barely audible, before your training took over like a switch flipping. But that voice—the parent voice—it never shut off. Not this time.

“Six-year-old male,” the medic rattled off, breathless but focused. “Fall from monkey bars, about six feet. Witnessed loss of consciousness, about two minutes. Regained briefly, then vomited twice. Unresponsive en route. GCS was 8, now trending to 6. Possible seizure activity reported by caregiver. No obvious long bone fractures. He was wearing a helmet for his bike earlier—removed at the park.”

You didn’t realize your hands were trembling until Jack grabbed your wrist gently. His voice was firm, steady—the voice of a trauma attending—but his eyes were glassy with panic barely held back.

“You can’t be in here,” he said lowly, eyes flicking toward the doors.

You shook your head. “I’m fine. I can help.”

“No—you’re his mom right now. Go.” His jaw tightened. “Please.”

The please hit you harder than anything else. You backed away, your legs feeling like they weren’t fully connected to your body anymore, your heart hammering as the rest of the team swarmed your baby.

Jack turned to the team. “Let’s move. What’s his pressure?”

“Ninety over fifty-six. Pulse 142.”

“Get a stat head CT. I want neuro and peds trauma paged now. Two large-bore IVs, hang NS bolus. Let’s get a collar on until we clear his c-spine.”

You backed into the wall of the trauma bay, peering through what felt like glass separating you from your husband and son. Your hands pressed flat against the cold surface as you watched your husband slip into a version of himself that didn’t exist at home. Dr. Abbot. Commanding. Composed. Making rapid decisions while your son—your Mason—lay still under fluorescent lights.

Your sister appeared moments later through the open door, eyes red, cheeks tear-streaked.

“I’m so sorry—he was fine, he was running—he always runs ahead—he just slipped—he hit the back of his head—he was okay for a minute but then—”

You pulled her into a tight hug, holding on for dear life. “It’s okay. You did the right thing. You got him here.”

Inside the bay, Jack’s voice cut through the buzz: “GCS is still six. Pupils reactive but sluggish. No external bleeding beyond scalp laceration. Let’s move now—CT and labs.”

As they wheeled Mason away, Jack followed, casting one last look back toward you through the window. His jaw was tight, but his eyes broke in that second.

You nodded once, already following down the hall toward radiology.

The hardest thing you’d ever done was not run in there and scoop your son into your arms.

But right now, Mason didn’t need his mom, he needed doctors. 

The CT suite was silent except for the rhythmic click and hum of the scanner. You stood just outside the control room glass, arms wrapped tight around yourself, watching Jack through the sterile glow.

He hadn’t left Mason’s side. Not for a second.

The techs were gentle, fast, and professional. Jack kept one hand near Mason’s foot the whole time, the other tucked against the side rail, whispering barely audible reassurances—things like, “You’re okay, buddy. Almost done. I’m right here.”

Even though Mason couldn’t hear him.

Even though your baby hadn’t opened his eyes once.

The scan ended. The attending radiologist had already been called down—an older, calm-voiced man you trusted completely. He pulled up the images, and when Jack joined him at the monitors, you followed, swallowing hard.

“There,” the radiologist pointed. “Linear parietal skull fracture, left side. No depression. He’s lucky.”

You exhaled shakily, but it wasn’t over.

“Contusion here,” he continued, circling the left temporal lobe. “Localized cerebral edema. No midline shift, no herniation. Small subgaleal hematoma along the occiput—probably from the initial impact. No signs of active intracranial bleeding.”

Jack nodded, arms crossed tightly over his sturdy chest, voice strained. “What about seizure risk?”

“Moderate. The contusion is sitting near cortical tissue. If he did seize en route, it’s not unexpected. You’ll want continuous EEG. We’ll monitor ICP closely for the next 48 hours. Neurosurgery should take a look, but this is non-operative for now.”

Your breath caught. Non-operative. You clung to the word like a rope in the dark.

“He’s stable enough to go up?” Jack asked.

“PICU? Absolutely. Intubate if his GCS drops again. Start seizure prophylaxis—Keppra, likely.” and with that it ended, short and sweet and not enough all at the same time. 

The elevator ride up to the PICU felt like moving through water. You were allowed to ride alongside the bed this time, one hand brushing Mason’s tiny fingers. 

They felt too cold. Too still.

His face looked smaller without his usual noise, his bursts of energy, the chatter. They’d cleaned most of the blood from his hair, but you could still see dried streaks clinging to his ear. His lips were parted slightly beneath the oxygen mask, his lashes damp against his cheeks.

In the PICU room, monitors beeped quietly, soft and steady. A nurse worked quickly and calmly—hooking up IV lines, starting the EEG leads, dimming the lights. Another brought in the seizure meds. Jack stood in the corner, arms limp at his sides now, adrenaline draining from his face.

The door closed.

And finally, the room went quiet.

You sat beside the bed and took Mason’s hand fully in yours. It was so small inside your palm. Always had been. But now it felt weightless, like something you couldn’t quite hold onto.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered.

Jack didn’t respond at first. Then he moved behind you, his hand finding your shoulder. His voice broke when he spoke.

“Yes, you can. Because he needs us to. He’s going to wake up. He is.”

You leaned into him, tears slipping silently down your face as you looked at your son—your entire world—wrapped in wires and machines, and not moving.

You didn’t sleep that night.

Neither did Jack.

Still you took turns sitting by the bed, staring at the monitors, willing the numbers to stay steady. Hoping for a flicker of movement. A twitch of fingers. A shift in those long eyelashes. And in the quiet, with Jack’s hand around yours and Mason’s resting between you both, you whispered promises neither of you had made out loud before:

We’re never working the same shift again. Not if it means risking this.

The room truly felt like a time capsule. Hours passed in a haze of fluorescent lights, rhythmic monitor beeps, the gentle hiss of oxygen.

It was day two.

Mason hadn’t opened his eyes.

His vitals were holding steady. The cerebral edema hadn’t worsened. The neurosurgeons were cautiously optimistic, calling his fracture “clean,” and the contusion “contained.” The EEG hadn’t shown any additional seizure activity overnight, and the Keppra seemed to be doing its job. His pupils were still sluggish, but reactive. He was breathing on his own. Everything was textbook.

But textbooks didn’t prepare you for how still a six-year-old could look when the light left his eyes.

You were in the chair again, your fingers curled gently around his. You’d barely moved all day, afraid that if you stepped away, you’d miss something. Jack was sitting on the couch now, head leaned back against the wall, one foot bouncing anxiously. He hadn’t left the both of you beyond grabbing the spare sets of clothes out of his truck. 

The lights were dimmed, the machines soft and steady. You rubbed slow, soothing circles across the back of Mason’s hand, whispering to him like he was just dozing after a long day.

“Hey, lovebug,” you said quietly. “It’s okay to wake up now. Daddy’s here. I’m here. You’re safe.”

You leaned in close, brushing your lips against his knuckles, careful of any swelling.

“I know your head hurts. I know you’re tired. But you’re okay. You’re safe.”

Jack stirred at the sound of your voice, rubbing a hand down his face. He moved beside you, placing a palm lightly on Mason’s ankle.

As if he heard you both.

Mason’s fingers twitched.

It was so small you almost thought you imagined it.

You straightened slowly, eyes locked on his face.

Then his eyelids fluttered.

“Mason?” you whispered.

Jack stood up so fast the chair he had moved too scraped against the floor.

Mason’s eyes opened—barely. Just enough to see the soft hazel underneath. He blinked slowly, unfocused, then squeezed them shut against the light.

“Hey, baby,” you said gently, leaning close again. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

He let out a faint, croaky sound—half breath, half mumble.

Jack stepped forward, his voice catching. “Hey, bud. It’s Daddy. Can you squeeze Mommy’s hand for me?”

Another pause.

Then—your fingers were squeezed, weak but there. Real.

Tears slid down your cheeks as you pressed his hand to your face. “There you are,” you whispered.

Mason blinked again, this time managing to squint up at the two blurry figures hovering over him. His lips parted. His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

“My head hurts.”

You choked on a sob, letting out a shaky laugh. “I bet it does, sweetheart. But you’re okay. You’re okay.”

Jack cleared his throat, crouching beside the bed now, brushing hair gently away from Mason’s forehead. “We’re gonna take really good care of you, buddy. You scared us.”

Mason looked at you, then at Jack, and then murmured, “Did I miss the ice cream?”

You both laughed—quiet, breathless, full of relief.

“No,” you said. “Aunty owes you extra scoops now.”

He gave a tiny smile, then drifted again, eyelids heavy, but this time… it was just sleep.

Not unconsciousness. Not seizure. Not silence.

Just rest.

The next day brought sunlight through the tall PICU windows, soft and golden, catching in the folds of Mason’s blanket. He was propped up slightly now, still sleepy and sore, but undeniably there. Awake. Talking a little more. Asking small, simple things like “What day is it?” and “Can I have ice cream now?”

You and Jack stayed close, moving slower now, the urgency replaced by the kind of stillness that only comes after a storm.

There were still scans ahead. Neuro checks. Days of rest already planned in advance. But for now, Mason’s vitals were steady. His headache was easing. The swelling in his brain was beginning to go down. And his eyes—when they looked at you—were full of that quiet spark again.

That afternoon, you sat beside him in the recliner, Mason tucked against your chest in hospital-issue pajamas, his IV carefully taped and his fingers curled around your shirt. Jack was across the room, dozing lightly on the couch, arms crossed, head tilted, exhaustion finally catching up with him.

Mason’s voice came soft against your collarbone.

“Mommy?”

You tilted your head down. “Yeah, baby?”

“Will you stay here when I sleep?”

You smiled, kissing the top of his head.

“Of course, baby. Daddy and I both will.”

And with his breathing deepening, his small body warm against yours, and Jack snoring softly in the corner, you finally let yourself close your eyes.

Not out of fear.

Because—for the first time in days—you knew everything was going to be okay.

mercvry-glow 2025

Too Sweet (RobbyxOFC)

She wanted to make a good impression on her first day; she didn’t expect it would be because she came in on a gurney, giving chest compressions to a patient that coded in the ambulance. 

She was hollering out code instructions to the nurses that came over to assist, and shortly a male doctor, towering over her even on the gurney, came over and lifted her carefully off the gurney onto the floor. She looked up at him, way up, and smiled.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Everly Taylor, third year resident, nice to meet you,” she introduced herself, and the tall doctor gave a look of semi-recognition. At least he knew she was coming. 

“Dr. Robinavich, everyone calls me Dr. Robby or Robby. I’m the Chief Attending on Day Shift. Think that means you’ll be working with me most of the time.”

“Dr. Robby, I’ve heard great things about you. I’m excited to see what new adventures the ED brings me,” Everly smiled again, her dimples showing as she did. 

“Tell me, how did you end up in the back of an ambulance giving one of our patient’s CPR?” He asked her, crossing his arms across his chest. 

Everly shrugged. “I was walking here, saw a kid crash his e-scooter, called 911 and asked for a lift since they were coming here anyway. He coded en route, and I’m little enough that I needed to be on the gurney to get some good pressure.” 

Robby looked her up and down, mostly down as she was a meager five feet tall to his six feet tall. Everly only then realized she was wearing tiny shorts and a tank top. “Yeah, I can see that. Well you may have saved that kid’s life, so congratulations, and welcome to the Pitt. Go get suited up and we’ll do introductions and get you started on some cases, starting with e-scooter kid.”

Everly went towards where Robby pointed, finding the locker room. She grabbed an empty locker, putting her purse inside and grabbing her scrubs, pulling them on over her shorts and tank. Then she locked up the locker, put her cellphone on mute and into her pocket, and then walked back out to the main hub, putting her blonde hair up in a ponytail so it was out of the way. 

Robby was waiting for her at the nurse’s station, as was another blonde lady with a big RN badge. 

“Dr. Taylor, this is Dana, our charge nurse. She runs the Pitt, whatever she says goes.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Everly said, waving slightly at the other woman. Dana gave a warm smile, before her phone went off and she stepped away to answer it. 

“Let’s see who else we can find,” Robby said, leading Everly around the Pitt, giving a tour of the different rooms and areas. She met Dr. Collins and Dr. Langdon, both working on a man with a GSW to the leg. Then she met Dr. Mohan, who gave her a hug as she was introduced, and then Dr. King, who seemed just as excited to see Everly as Everly was to be there.

“Well that’s really everyone on shift at the moment, you’ll probably meet some of the night crew when they come in tonight. Why don’t you go check on e-scooter kid, and I’ll come over in a bit and help out,” Robby instructed, and Everly perked up, ready to work.

“Yes sir!” She jogged off to central one where the kid had been placed while the nurses and Dr. King brought him back from coding. He was now intubated and unconscious, but stable. 

Dana walked over to Robby, patting him on the arm to alert him to her presence. “She’s a cutie,” Dana began, and Robby just looked at her. “Don’t start.”

“What? She is, so short and full of energy. She might be just what you need to get outta this funk you’re in.”

“I am not in a funk,” Robby disagreed, but his frown said otherwise. 

“Sure…” Dana went back to her station, talking with Perlah and Princess about what they were to do next.

Robby went over to central one, peeking in, and seeing Everly cleaning a long cut on the patient’s arm, a suture kit next to her ready to go. Mateo was in there with her, handing her gauze as requested it. They were laughing about something, seemingly something Mateo had said, as he looked slightly smug. 

Robby immediately felt a surge of something, he didn’t know what, but it made him step into the room and clear his throat to get their attention. 

Everly and Mateo looked up at Robby, both still smiling. “What’s up Dr. Robby?” Mateo asked, being friendly. 

“Just checking on my new resident, seeing how things are going in here,” Robby explained, although he knew there was a different reason for checking on her, he just wasn’t sure what it was. 

“All good here, just a couple sutures. He’ll be heading up to surgery soon.”

“Good,” Robby ran his hand through his hair, unsure what else to do, so he just walked out, leaving the newbie with Mateo. 

Robby wasn’t blind. Dr. Taylor was hot, smoking hot, and Mateo was an attractive guy. It seemed likely they would at least be friendly, based on their similar ages, if not hook up. Robby didn’t like that thought at all. He got called to a STEMI and his mind immediately switched back to work and focus. 

He saw Dr. Taylor a couple more times throughout the day, where she emphasized to him to “Please call me Everly, Dr. Taylor is so formal!”. She had a glow about her, like a tiny little fairy, floating around the Pitt suturing wounds here, intubating there, and even at one point holding onto some sawed off fingers. Never did he see her without a smile, or at least a happy look to her. 

Everyone noticed, especially Dana and Collins. They ganged up on him, coming up on either side of him at the nurse’s station. 

“So…” Collins prompted, and Robby just looked at her.

“So what?”

“What do you think of her?”

“I don’t know, I’ve only known her briefly for a couple hours,” Robby answered diplomatically. 

Dana and Collins both groaned in disappointment. 

“Come on Robby, you’ve been watching her all day, you gotta think something about her,” Dana explained.

“I’m watching her because she’s my new resident, and I watch all my residents, including you, Collins,” he pointed out, crossing his arms across his chest.

“She’s a cutie, so smiley and full of joy,” Dana was watching Everly as she flitted across the Pitt, helping Langdon with a little boy that swallowed some magnets. “Good with kids, too.”

“You two are worse than Perlah and Princess,” Robby complained, walking away towards Mohan to see what was taking her so long with her patient.

“I give it two weeks,” Collins bet.

“Nah, I think it’s gonna be a couple months. He’s so uptight,” Dana countered. They began the betting pool over/under on whether Robby would ask Everly out, or continue to be a pining Victorian hero, sad and broken and lonely. 

At the end of the day, Everly was at her locker, grabbing her purse, when Dr. Robby walked in. Everly smiled at him, closing her locker. 

“Good job today, Taylor.” Robby complimented her, and she did a fake bow.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Keep it up,” he finished, turning to his own locker and grabbing his stuff. Everly took this as a dismissal, and put on her jacket, heading home after fourteen hours of nonstop medical treatment.

A month later Robby starts to realize he might have feelings for Everly. She brought him a coffee every morning, made sure he drank some water and ate at least a granola bar during the day. She was the sun to his starless night, opposite in every way, but fitting perfectly into his life. But she was 29 years old, and he was pushing 50, it was too big an age gap, they’d have nothing in common. He was a coffee black, whiskey neat sort of guy, while she was an iced latte, sex on the beach (the drink) kinda girl. It would never work. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t want it to.

You Are In Love: Chapter Three

Jack Abbot x Reader

Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three

Warnings: Language might be the only one in this chapter? Very fluffy

Description: After babysitting Eliza and baby Abbot, Jack doesn't exactly sleep with the reader. At Eliza's ice skating recital, the reader decides to help Jack learn how to skate again after losing his foot.

--

Robby leaned against the high counter of the desk hub, pulling his glasses out to read a message on his phone. His wife approached him, bumping him with an elbow when she copied his lean against the desk hub.

“I know something you don’t know.” She greeted in a sing-songy voice.

Without looking up, trying to focus his phone screen through his glasses, Robby answered, “I already know about the patient in Psych One. Had a potato peeler shoved up his ass. Guess who had to remove it.”

She tilted her head, genuinely concerned. “What?”

Robby’s eyes flicked up over his glasses, realizing that was not the gossip she knew. “The patient in Psych One?” He repeated.

She shook her head. “That’s not what I was talking about.” She replied, but then giggled, wrapping an arm around his bicep. “Sorry you had to do that.”

He shrugged. “Not even in the top ten items I’ve pulled out of someone’s ass.” He mumbled before looking at his phone again, holding it an elderly distance away from his face. “What do you know?”

His wife grinned devilishly, pushing his phone away so that she had his full attention. Robby smiled slightly at the excitement in her eyes. “She came to work today in his scrubs.” She revealed.

“Wait, wait…how do you know they’re his?” Robby was incredibly invested now.

“I saw the shirt tag on the scrub tub.” She continued, her smile somehow widening even more. “J Dot Abbot.”

—

Only two more days of working the day shift. That’s the record you kept on loop in your brain—only two more days of annoyingly simple cases that should have gone to urgent care. At least at night, the urgent care centers were closed, and patients had no other choice but to land in the Pitt. But more importantly, only two more shifts until you worked with Jack again. 

The words “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” had not been uttered, but the connection was intensely deep. When you went home with him after babysitting Eliza and baby Abbot a couple of weeks ago, you thought the trajectory to his bedroom was obvious. The hot kisses against your car door seemed fictional now that he didn’t sleep with you that night. All the signs pointed to his lap, but you ended up in his arms instead, separated by layers of clothes. He hadn’t even removed his prosthesis. You couldn’t complain too much because you woke the next morning, more rested than you had been in years, to the smell of bacon, banana pancakes, and coffee looming from the kitchen.

His chrome ringlets were still holding onto water from the shower, glistening in the early morning sunlight that shone through the window. His massive, flexed forearms looked more delicious than the pancake mix he was stirring. You were met with the warmest, dimple-filled smile as you padded into the kitchen.

“I didn’t want to wake you.” He greeted, voice slow as honey.

You stepped closer, pulling at the sleeve of your lavender sweatshirt from the day before. “I’ve gotta go get my scrubs for work.” You said sheepishly.

Jack pointed to the black scrubs lying on the counter, folded neatly with military precision. “They’re not Figs, but they get the job done.” He noted.

You walked to the counter, pulling the shirt off the top, letting it unfold. A laugh escaped your lungs. “Jack, these are yours.” You scoffed.

“I know.” 

A warmth crawled across your cheeks and slithered down your chest. “All this so I can stay for breakfast?” You teased, making your way over to him again.

“Mmhmm. Go on, get changed. I’ll be done here in a minute.” He finished his order with a kiss on your forehead. 

That morning had ended with sticky, syrupy kisses before he sent you off to work with a protein bar and an energy drink. When you arrived in the baggier-than-usual black scrubs that smelled perfectly of Jack, sandalwood and citrus, Robby’s wife clocked it immediately. She gave you a nudge on the arm when you stood next to her in front of the patient board. 

“Thanks for watching the kids. Eliza told me all about it this morning.” She said.

You smiled, looking at her for a brief second, and you were met with the smuggest, all-knowing smirk. You couldn’t hold back the giggle in your chest. “Nothing happened.” You defended, and it wasn’t a complete lie.

She leaned closer, arms crossed. “Well, something happened because unless your washing machine can magically make clothes grow…” She gestured to your oversized scrubs. “Those are not yours.”

The blush on your cheeks blew your cover. “Fine. I slept over with him…but we did not sleep with each other.” You clarified.

Because of your current schedule, you only saw Jack at shift change if he wasn’t elbows deep in a patient before you got called to another patient’s room. He wouldn’t kiss you or even touch you, but he had a coffee waiting for you in your locker with a fluorescent sticky note that read “Good luck today -J” every single morning. And every morning, you would tape the sticky note to the inside of your locker, creating a colorful collage that began to rival the betting wall. You would prance out of the lounge, warm coffee in your hands, and sit at your desk. And if time allowed, Jack would sit at the computer next to you, charting, and let his knee just barely brush against yours. No words. But you could hear it in the silence.

As you shucked off your gloves after handling your last patient of the day, you heard a tiny voice screech your name, and something clung to your leg. You looked down to see Eliza, hair pulled back into a sleek bun, in a sparkly dress that matched the hot pink cast encasing her arm.

“Oh, where did you come from?” You asked as you hauled the giggling girl into your arms.

“Are you coming to my recital?” She asked, wrapping her arms around your neck.

Before you could answer, you heard hurried, uneven footsteps approach from behind you. “Eliza, do not run away from me like that again.” You heard your soldier’s gravelly voice order. “Do you understand me, young lady?”

You turned around to see Jack, holding baby Abbot in his arms, approaching with an aggravated gait and piercing gaze. Eliza cowered in shame into your shoulder. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.” She mumbled, giving him the biggest, brownest, puppy dog eyes you had ever seen.

And Jack was a sucker for that little girl. The frustration immediately washed from his face, and he placed a gentle hand on her back. “It’s okay, princess. You just need to hold an adult’s hand when you’re here, okay?” He soothed.

Eliza nodded in innocent understanding. “Okay.” She answered.

Jack shook his head but smiled nonetheless. Finally, he focused on you, eyes softening when they met yours. “Hi.” He greeted with a sigh.

You nudged your shoulder against his, itching for a sliver of physical contact. “Hey.” You replied. “Dropping off the kids?”

Jack shifted baby Abbot in his arms so that you could see his chubby little face. You ran a gentle finger against his cheek, and the baby smiled. “Yeah. Eliza has an ice skating recital tonight, so we’re gonna watch the ice princess do her thing.” He answered, poking at Eliza’s side, illiciting a giggle from her. “You coming?” He asked you.

Even though you only hesitated for just a second, Eliza immediately piped up, holding your face in her tiny hands. “Please come see me skate!” She begged with those same convincing eyes she had flashed at Jack just moments ago. Damn, Robinavitches can get whatever they want with those eyes.

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You assured her.

Eliza cheered in excitement, hugging your neck tightly. You laughed and squeezed her closer. It felt so natural now, holding her like this, like she was your family. Baby Abbot began to kick his legs and babble with a gummy smile as he looked behind you and Jack. 

“Hey, little man.” Robby’s uncharacteristically, overly-cheerful voice came from behind you.

“Daddy!” Eliza immediately squirmed out of your arms, reaching for her father.

Robby carefully took her into his arms, pressing a squishy kiss against her cheek. “Hey, big girl.” He greeted her before pulling her away slightly to look her in the eyes. “I heard Uncle Jack get on to you. What happened?” 

He looked at Jack, waiting for an answer, but Jack only gestured to Eliza, letting her explain. Eliza looked down, an ashamed pout on her face. “I ran away from him so I could hug her.” She said, pointing towards you at the end.

Robby nodded, squeezing her a little tighter at the thought of her being snatched up by some deranged patient. “You know the rules, Eliza. If you come to see Mommy and Daddy at work, you have to stay with a grown-up. No running away.” He lectured. “It’s to keep you safe, okay?”

The little girl nodded, moving her hands to play with his beard. “Yes, sir.” She replied, still ashamed, but with an adorable respectfulness.

And just like Jack, he was no match for her sweetness. He pressed his forehead against hers. “Are you ready to skate?” He asked with a playful seriousness.

Eliza grinned and pulled at the mesh sleeve of her skater dress. “Yes!” She affirmed. “Is Nana coming to watch?” She asked, looking around for the blond charge nurse.

Robby nodded. “Yes, she’s going to meet us there. She had to leave a little early, but you’ll see her when we get to the rink.” He assured.

The little girl smiled big, excited that her whole family would be there to see her figure skating. Robby’s wife approached your huddle, greeting both of her babies with a kiss on the cheek. Jack, almost reluctantly, handed over baby Abbot to his mother. 

“Are we ready to go?” She asked, resting her forehead on baby Abbot’s head, absorbing his cuteness after a rough shift.

Robby looked around, searching for a certain attending holding his signature iced coffee. “I need to talk to Shen before shift change. You might need to head on without me so she isn’t late for warm up.” He answered.

His wife nodded. “Okay, I can take the truck. Gonna ride with Jack?”

Jack gave a nonchalant thumbs up, affirming the plan. Robby nodded before focusing his attention on Eliza. “Daddy has to work a little bit longer. You’re gonna go ahead with Mommy and-”

“No!” Eliza exclaimed, face scrunching with frustration.

It caught everyone off guard. It was rare for the angelic child to have any kind of outburst. Robby’s brow furrowed. “Eliza.” He said sternly.

“No, Daddy!” Her big, brown eyes began to well up with tears. “You said that last time, and you didn’t come watch me skate.”

There was an uncomfortable silence amongst all of you, but everyone else seemed to know a backstory that you didn’t. Robby’s wife stepped forward, one arm holding up baby Abbot, and the other moving to rub soothing circles on Eliza’s back. “Sweetheart, Daddy is going to watch you skate. Last time was different.” 

Eliza’s bottom lip quivered as she grabbed her dad’s face, fingers nestling in his beard. “Pinky promise?” She begged.

Robby took in a shaky breath, something unusual in his eyes. Oh…those were tears. Not heavy enough to fall, but just enough to reflect light. He wrapped his large pinky around the tiny one that settled on his face. “Pinky promise.” He whispered.

Reluctantly, he let go of his daughter, so she could walk with his wife to the car. Jack noticed Robby’s distress and, for the first time in public, grabbed your hand in his. 

“Why don’t you ride with them? I’ll make sure Robby gets there.” He mumbled, only low enough for your group to hear.

You nodded, offering a small smile. “Okay.” You squeezed his hand once before heading off with Robby’s wife and the kids.

–

You sat in the bleachers next to Robby’s wife. She had wrapped baby Abbot snugly in a warm blanket so he wouldn’t get cold from the chilly indoor air. Eliza moved around the ice with her friends, more advanced than the other five-year-olds.

“I’m sorry about that.” Robby’s wife finally said.

You raised your eyebrows in confusion. “For what?” 

“For Eliza’s outburst back at the Pitt.” She elaborated.

You shrugged, offering a reassuring smile. “Kids will be kids.”

She sighed, shaking her head as she seemed to relive a painful moment. “A few months ago, right when Abbot was born, she had a competition. Jack was watching the baby for us, so Robby and I could both come to the rink. But right as we were leaving, five MVC patients came in. So I took Eliza, and Robby had to stay behind and help Shen.” She explained, shifting the baby boy in her arms so that he could rest comfortably as his eyelids began to droop. “It was the first time he missed any competition or recital.”

You winced, knowing there was no way to explain that situation to a young child. “I’m assuming she didn't take it well?” You added.

Robby’s wife huffed a sarcastic laugh. “You would be correct. She cried and cried, even when he got home. Eventually, she tired herself out, but it was the first time she wouldn’t let him put her to bed.” She continued, frowning again as she said, “Robby cried for an hour that night.”

You felt your heart ache at the thought of one of your mentors crying over his little girl. “I know that was hard for him. He loves her so much.” You replied.

She nodded and smiled slightly. “He’s the best dad. He’s always talking about how the kids and I are his second chance at life. How we brought the light back into him…” Her smile grew warmly as she reminisced on her marriage and family.

You couldn’t help but smile with her. Footsteps approaching behind you distracted you from your conversation. Robby and Jack walked down the stairs of the bleachers, arms linked to give Jack extra balance. They each held a bouquet of roses, undoubtedly for Eliza after the recital. A quiet “Thanks, brother” was all you heard before the men settled on either side of the two of you. Robby leaned in to kiss his wife, mumbling something that you couldn’t quite decipher.

Meanwhile, Jack bumped his shoulder against yours, gaining your focus. “You ready to be on night shift again?” He asked.

You pretended to hesitate. “I mean, I guess…” You trailed off, looking away from his gorgeous stare.

He chuckled and looked out at the ice rink. “Ouch.”

Cautiously, you grasped the interior hook of his elbow, placing your other hand on his bicep, and leaned close. “Ready to be with the night shift people again.” 

He tilted his head lower to rest on yours, his arm flexing under your grasp. “The people?” He questioned. “Like all of them…or some of them…or just one of them…?”

You giggled at his antics, lightly squeezing his bicep. “Just one of them.” You confirmed.

Music began to play overhead, and all of the little ice skaters lined up. Eliza looked out into the bleachers amongst the other parents, searching for her family. The four of you clocked it, and you all waved at her. Even from a distance, you could see her excited grin as she waved back. Someone sat behind you on the bleachers, patting Jack’s shoulder.

“You know, you need to whip your night shift into shape.” Dana’s voice grumbled. “I left an hour late because of them.”

Jack turned around, an offended look on his face. “My night shift? It’s Robby’s department.” He defended.

Robby peeked his head up at the sound of his name being brought into an argument. “Not my monkeys, not my circus.” He retorted.

Jack huffed. “Um, it absolutely is your circus. You’re the fucking ringleader.”

“Yeah, but not night shift. They’re another breed.” Robby replied, eyes focused on his daughter.

Dana raised an eyebrow at Jack, waiting for his next response. “Whatcha gotta say about that, Lieutenant Colonel?” She taunted.

Jack waved her off. “Can you leave me alone? I’m trying to watch my niece.” He complained.

You looked up to him. “The recital hasn’t started yet, they’re just doing warm-up drills.” You countered.

His bewildered eyes flicked to you. “And it’s cute.”

Dana chuckled before waving at baby Abbot, who giggled at her. “Hey there, sweet boy.” She greeted. 

The baby reached for her, and Robby’s wife willingly exchanged him to Dana’s arms so she could record the recital on her phone. You heard Dana mumble something about “Maybe we’ll just rename you Daniel,” as the lights in the bleachers dimmed, and the rink illuminated the tiny dancers in their glittery outfits. 

–

The music ended, and the audience cheered for their kids. The little skaters made their way off the ice, and you all met Eliza at the bottom of the bleachers. She carefully wobbled over to her parents’ embrace. Robby snatched her up so they could kiss her cheeks.

“You did so good, baby girl!” His wife praised.

She giggled and covered her face. “Thank you, Mommy.” She answered politely.

Robby lifted the bouquet of light pink roses that he had concealed behind his back. “These are for you.” He announced with the chivalry of a prince.

Eliza’s eyes widened. “Flowers!” She exclaimed. “I love flowers!”

Jack smiled and held up his bouquet of white roses to her. “Then I guess you’ll like these, too.” He suggested.

The little girl could not fathom that she had so many flowers. The bouquets in her little arms nearly took up her whole body.

“What do you say?” Robby’s wife cued.

Eliza wrapped her arms around the necks of both men, squeezing them in until the sides of their heads bumped together. “Thank you, Daddy and Uncle Jack!”

They both pressed a kiss to the side of her head. Your heart fluttered at the sight of Jack caring so deeply for his niece. Dana bounced baby Abbot in her arms and reached for her phone.

“Okay, we need a family picture.” She announced.

Robby’s wife reached for baby Abbot. She sat him up in her arms and nestled into Robby’s embrace, squishing their family together. Dana took several pictures while you and Jack made silly faces behind her to make the baby laugh, inevitably making Eliza giggle, too.

“We need a big family picture!” The little girl exclaimed.

You absentmindedly reached for Dana’s phone to take a picture of all of them. Robby stopped her by saying, “What are you doing? You’re in the picture.”

Oh. You were in the family now. Jack smiled, holding his arm out for you to curl into for the picture. You handed the phone to another parent and wrapped your arm around Jack, leaning in close. After the picture, he pressed the most subtle kiss to your temple, and your heart nearly jumped out of your chest.

“Can we skate now?” Eliza asked her parents.

Robby’s wife smiled. “Yeah, let me get our skates out of Daddy’s truck, okay?”

You looked to them, a little confused. Jack caught your expression. “They let the families free skate with their kids after the recital.” He explained.

You nodded slowly before looking up at him again. “Are you gonna skate?” 

There was a hint of sadness in his gold-flecked eyes that hit you in the chest. “I don’t skate anymore.” He answered, wiggling his right foot.

Robby shifted Eliza in his arms so that she sat on the side of his hip. “It’s a shame. Me and Jack used to play in a pick-up hockey league when we were young.” He revealed.

Your eyes widened, mouth dropping in shock. “Excuse me?”

Jack chuckled and crossed his arms. “We are still young.” He protested.

Dana scoffed and rolled her eyes. “God will strike you down for lying.” She warned. “They used to come in to work with bloody noses and sprained fingers. They’re lucky they worked in a trauma center.”

The old men waved her off but still laughed. Robby’s wife returned with a duffel bag with two pairs of skates. You sat on the bleachers with Jack as they pulled the skates on and set off on the ice with their daughter holding each of their hands. Dana sat behind you both a few rows up, cradling baby Abbot as he slept in his warm blanket.

You leaned your head on Jack’s shoulder as you watched Robby expertly move across the ice. “Do you miss it?” You finally asked.

Jack looked down at you, trying to read your expression. “Miss what?” He questioned.

“Skating?” You clarified.

The silence that followed seemed never-ending. You worried that you might have struck a nerve, but then he quietly answered, “Yeah, I do.”

You smiled slightly. “Then, why don’t we go out there?”

He let out a sigh, shaking his head. “I don’t know…”

“Why? Are you scared?” You taunted with a smirk, thinking if you playfully challenged him, he might cave.

Jack’s eyes met yours, and boy, you could see that vulnerability again. “Yes.” His answer was short and quick. 

You smiled reassuringly. “What’s your skate size?”

“14.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widened slightly, not expecting that large of a number. “Well, you know what they say.” You said with a wink.

Jack rolled his eyes but chuckled at you as you pranced away to the skate rental booth. You were going to be the death of him. 

–

You stepped onto the ice, ankles stabilizing as the traction under your feet changed. The ice wasn’t fresh, but you had no issue gliding a couple of feet. You carefully turned around to help Jack. But he waited at the entrance, stricken with fear. His eyes were blown wider than usual, and his chest moved quickly. He looked like he was about to jump out of a plane and not step onto an ice rink. 

A couple of steps, and you were right in front of him. Your hands reached out to grab his with a grounding firmness. “I’ll be right beside you the whole time.” You promised. 

He only nodded. He shifted in the skates uncomfortably, like he had every intention to take a step forward, but his feet still didn’t move. His grip on your hands tightened so much that they began to shake.

“Jack?” You whispered. 

He didn’t look at you. Only stared at the ice before him like it was a lava floor. “Hmm?”

You decided to take a trick out of his book. You moved your head until his eyes had no choice but to meet yours. Seeking out the contact. His whiskey eyes were nearly black from dilation. The fear was truly crippling him. “I’ve got you, baby.” Your voice was powerfully gentle. 

Baby. You called him baby. The first term of endearment between each other. The word left your lips so naturally, like you had called him baby a thousand times already. It was enough to ground him. It was enough to move his left foot forward, letting the blade touch the ice. 

You turned your ankles in to stabilize yourself on the ice so you could wrap your arm around his waist. His hands moved to your shoulders, grabbing painfully tight, but you didn’t care. 

“You’re doing so good, Jack.” You sang sweetly. 

The softness in your voice was the same one you spoke to Eliza with, but he didn’t feel patronized. He felt stronger and affirmed by the way you said his name. He swallowed hard when he began to move his right foot up to the ice. 

“There you go.” The praise continued to fall from your lips. 

Finally, the blade hit the ice. The feeling was so foreign to him. There were no sensors in his foot to feel the slickness of the ice. He had to predict it from halfway up his shin. Since he was a child, he could skate on ice better than he could run, and he was a fucking track star. After losing his right foot, he hadn’t dared to get on the ice again. Not because he couldn’t. He had learned to walk and run again with enough physical therapy. But he was afraid that he couldn’t. The confirmation that he couldn’t do something was terrifying. 

Jack took the smallest step forward with his right foot, studying the way his balance reacted to the ice. You patiently waited as he loosened the painful grip on your shoulders, moving his hands down to your forearms. 

Slowly, you skated backwards, pulling him with you. His feet moved cautiously, and his breathing began to deepen with confidence. 

“That’s it. You’re doing it.” You said, not raising your voice enough to draw attention, but enough to make him look up. 

The beaming smile on your face could have melted the entire rink. Jack knew in that moment that he had never been looked at with such pride and love in his life. Your eyes told him that he had hung the stars, and he believed it. A smile tugged at his lips, daring to share in your happiness. 

The happiness only lasted for a few more feet and cautious feet shuffling. His skate caught in a groove that yours had managed to avoid. The fall happened so fast, but you were ready to catch him in your arms and drop to the ice, undoubtedly hitting your head. But that wasn’t what happened. You never hit the ice. Your entire body was cushioned by his. In that split second, your soldier had changed the trajectory of your fall, taking your place of hitting the ice. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” Was the first thing you heard from him, his voice breaking. “Are you okay, are you hurt?”

You sat up quickly to see him below you, fighting back the pain that had to be wracking through his body. You pulled him to sit up, grabbing his face in your hands. 

“Jack, I’m fine. Are you okay?” You asked, scanning his body for any dislocated or broken limbs. 

Before he could answer, the smallest “Uncle Jack!” rang from across the rink. You both looked up to see Eliza scurrying over. Knowing she was moving too fast and couldn’t stop herself without falling, you caught her in your arms.

“Uncle Jack, are you okay?” She asked, the worry palpable in her question. 

Jack faked a smile, but you could see him cracking behind it. “I’m okay, princess.” He confirmed. “Just fell down.”

Eliza threw her arms around his neck, and for the first time that you had seen, he didn’t relax or let go of his troubles. He numbly hugged his niece, eyes devoid of the usual joy she could impart. 

Robby quickly approached, kicking up a wave of shaved ice as he halted next to you. “You alright, brother?” He asked as he knelt down. 

Jack continued holding Eliza, hoping that eventually the pain would numb if he did. “I knew this wasn’t a good idea. I’m not ready.” He said, looking up at Robby. 

While the comment was clearly about ice skating to your ears, Robby knew its double meaning. Just as he was about to speak, your voice cut through. “Jack. You have to keep trying.”

Jack shook his head, letting go of Eliza. He began to struggle, wanting to stand up, but the skates kept slipping as he tried to get a grip. “I don’t think I can do this.”

You put a settling hand on his shoulder, letting it drag to his sharp jaw, forcing eye contact again. “Well, I know you can.” You reinforced. 

This time, Jack’s eyes were glassy. The threat of tears loomed off the distance in the storm in his eyes. Your thumb brushed his cheek, ready to fight back against anything that fell. 

Eliza moved over to Robby, letting him place a protective hand to stabilize her. “It’s okay, Uncle Jack. I fall down all the time, but Daddy says ‘Suck it up, buttercup.’” She imparted her wisdom. 

The tension broke. Everyone burst into laughter at the little girl’s innocent pep talk. Robby pulled his daughter tightly into his arms, shoulders still shaking with chuckles, and kissed her forehead. “That’s right, sweetheart.” He said. 

When you could see clearly again after recovering from laughter, you looked at Jack. He lost the battle to tears, letting them fall freely as he smiled. With the sleeve of your underscrub shirt, you wiped them away before Eliza could see them and worry further. 

“You have your own army around you, Jack. We’re with you every step of the way.” You assured him. 

Jack took a much-needed deep breath and reached to grasp your hand resting on his jaw. He looked up to Robby, who smiled and gave him a playful salute. He never imagined that he would find himself uttering these words as his grown ass age, but he finally said, “Okay. I can try again.” His voice was stronger now, the gravel back in his words.

You and Robby helped him stand to his feet on either side of him. With one arm thrown around each of your shoulders, he stabilized on the ice, testing the pressure on his right foot. Eliza danced ahead, doing her little twirls showcased in her recital.

“Eliza, you don’t have to show off.” Jack called out to her. “Let Uncle Jack get his sea legs back.” 

The little girl giggled as she continued to prance on the ice. Carefully, you and Robby moved to help Jack adjust to how his body balanced on the ice. Tiny steps, shuffling forward, left foot always moving more confidently than the right.

“You’re gonna be skating circles around me again pretty soon, brother.” Robby said, and it drew a laugh from Jack.

“I’ll have to pull my hockey stick out of the attic. Gotta teach Abbot how play since he doesn’t have anyone else to teach him.” He replied.

Robby chuckled and held back the urge to shove him. “You’re forgetting that I am the only thing between safety and falling back on your ass right now.” He teased.

The old men laughed, but not like usual. Like they were boys again, fresh out of medical school, having fun before they had split for different residency programs. Just like old times. As if on cue, tiny screams could be heard from the bleachers outside the rink. Robby’s wife was bouncing baby Abbot in her arms, trying to soothe him, with Dana at her side. She looked out to the ice desperately, and Robby let out a sigh. He looked at you, brow furrowed with conflict.

“I need to go help her. You got him?” He asked.

The look in his eyes transcended the simple question. Asking not if you could keep him from falling, but if you could care for him. If you could support him more than just on the ice rink. If you could handle him. You nodded, wrapping your arm tighter around Jack’s waist. “I’ve got him.” You affirmed, a small nod to let him know that you read past the question.

Robby smiled slightly and let go of Jack. “Alright, brother. Stay with her, alright?” He said before quickly moving off the rink to tend to his family, Eliza following behind him.

After a few moments of shuffling carefully, never fully picking your skates off the ice, you spoke up. “I’m sorry for pushing you to do this. You weren’t comfortable.” You apologized.

Jack stopped his movements, pulling you back to him when you glided a couple of inches ahead. “I needed this.” He replied, squeezing your hand tightly. He led your hand to his chest, then wrapped his arms around your waist. “I need you.” He added.

His breath was hot on your cheeks, warming from the cold air that surrounded you. You rubbed small circles on his chest, able to trace the muscles that hid beneath his shirt. “Need me how?” You asked.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “In every sense of the word.” He leaned closer, your noses brushing. “I need you.” He repeated.

His lips captured yours in a tender kiss, and he pulled your body as close as it could get to his, threatening to combine skin cells together. One hand trailed to his jaw, massaging the muscles there as he brushed his tongue against your lips. Fortunately, you were snapped back to reality and reminded of your public location because a shriek from the bleachers rang through the rink: 

“Mommy! Daddy! They’re kissing just like you said!” 

—

In the car on the way home, Robby and his wife whispered quietly as he drove, careful not to wake the exhausted kids in the backseat. 

“He’s in love with her.” He finally suggested.

His wife looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “How do you know?” She asked.

Robby smiled and squeezed her hand he held across the console. “Because he’s looking at her the way I look at you.” 

She smiled bashfully and shook her head. “Be serious.”

“I am. Jack never even looked at his first wife that way. There’s a connection between them that’s just…different. I saw it tonight with my own eyes.” He explained, twirling the wedding and engagement ring on her finger.

“They’re taking it slow. Much slower than we did.” She teased.

Robby chuckled, bringing her hand to his lips. “It’s hard to take it slow with you. With that laugh. That smile. That body…” He trailed his kisses up her forearm, still managing to watch the road.

“Robby, stop it.” His wife demanded, but she didn’t really mean it.

“I think Abbot wants to be a big brother.” 

“Michael!”

--

A/N: Thank y'all for reading! I don't know why but I just have this headcanon where Robby and Jack used to play pick-up hockey before his accident. Thank you all for reading! Chapter 4 will be a veryyy spicy one!