MASTERLIST

Cloaked in Green || Series Masterlist

Thorin Oakenshield & Fem!OC || slowburn || soulmate KINDA (dwarven ones)

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Prologue

Part One-(Unexpected Journey)

Chapter 1: Bag-End

Chapter 2: The Journey a-WAIT!

Chapter 3: Full Bellies

Chapter 4: Ring Scrapes

Chapter 5: Cerulean

Chapter 6: Smell of Troll

Chapter 7: Warg Scout

Chapter 8: The Uniter…

Chapter 9: Thorin’s Interlude

Chapter 10: Platters

Chapter 11: Wandering Star

Chapter 12: Narsil

Chapter 13: Into the fire. 

Chapter 14: Dislocation and Reconciliation

__________________________________

Keep reading

𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

What if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time?

description: 

pairing: dr. michael robinavitch x female ob/gyn attending! reader

genre: hidden pregnancy…maybe? age gap (michael late 40s, reader mid 30s), female reader.

notes: i love this so much it’s insane

word count: 2.9 k

extra: moodboard | playlist | ☆:**:. 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞 .:**:.☆ 

Feel free to #𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 (◕‿◕✿) *:･ﾟ✧ if you have any scenarios in mind! I might not write everything but I’ll respond to everyone.

series masterlist: 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬

ten years ago…

The city was still asleep when he closed the door behind him.

No one saw him leave—not the landlord, not the neighbor who always smoked on her balcony, not the woman he loved, still asleep down the hall with the bedroom door cracked open just enough for the light to spill in.

Robby stood in that silence for a long minute, the chill from the hallway seeping into his bones like penance. Then he turned the key in the lock and walked away.

The air outside was the kind that burned in your lungs.

Pittsburgh was cold in the fall, but this was the kind of cold that made everything sharper—clearer. Unforgiving.

His bag was slung over his shoulder, his steps steady but slow, like maybe the weight of what he was doing hadn’t settled in yet. Or maybe it had, and he was just trying not to feel it.

He didn’t take a cab. He walked the ten blocks to the station with his hands in his pockets and his jaw clenched tight.

The city was gray and heavy, the sky the color of steel, and every street corner felt like it might shout her name back at him if he let his mind wander too far.

He had written her a note. It was short. Too short.

Something about needing to go. About not being who she thought he was. About not being enough.

He hadn't signed it.

He told himself it was better this way. Cleaner. Less to untangle.

She wouldn’t have to look him in the eye and see the mess of a man too afraid to stay. She wouldn’t have to see him crack apart under the weight of what he couldn’t say: I love you, but I don’t know how to deserve you.

Because that was the truth, wasn’t it?

He loved her. God, he loved her so much it made everything inside him ache. But love wasn’t always enough, and he was already unraveling—already halfway gone in ways that scared him.

She had plans. She had brightness. She talked about future things like they were inevitable—like there was a place in them carved out for him. Like he belonged.

Michael didn’t know how to belong.

And she—she kissed him like she believed he’d always come back.

He left like he knew he never would.

He remembered the way she’d pulled him close the night before, bare legs around his hips, her breath soft and warm against his skin. She kissed him like the world was still safe.

Like it was forever. Like it was just the two of them in that tiny apartment and the future didn’t scare her. She whispered something against his collarbone—something like don’t go far, something like see you in the morning—and he’d shut his eyes so tight it hurt.

She kissed him like she believed in him. And it broke something in him, because he didn’t.

After, she curled up against him and fell asleep fast, trusting him to stay.

He spent the whole night awake beside her.

Watching the ceiling. Watching her chest rise and fall. Memorizing the shape of her hand resting on his chest like she was anchoring him to something good. Something real.

And then, right before the sun came up, he kissed her on the forehead, like that could make up for everything he didn’t have the courage to say. He got up without a sound, packed only what he needed, left the note on the kitchen counter where she’d find it after coffee.

At the station, he stood on the platform with a coffee in one hand and guilt in the other. The train was delayed. Of course it was. The universe was cruel like that.

He didn’t cry. Not really. But his chest hurt in that splintered, hollow way grief lives in.

If she had woken up…

If she had asked him to stay…

He didn’t know what he would’ve done.

But she didn’t. And he left. He let the train carry him away from the only thing that had ever felt like home, trying to convince himself he was doing the right thing.

He never turned around.

And he never saw the light flick on in the apartment just moments after the train pulled away.

He never saw her wake up, heart hammering, reaching for the empty space beside her.

He didn’t see the light flick on in the apartment just minutes after the train pulled away.

Didn’t see her reach across the bed for him, only to find cold sheets and silence.

Didn’t see her walk barefoot into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from her eyes, only to stop short at the note waiting for her like a knife on the counter.

She read it once. Then again. And again, like maybe the words would change if she stared long enough.

They didn’t.

And the life she thought she was building—the one she’d let herself believe in, with the man she’d trusted enough to love without hesitation—cracked down the middle, quiet and sharp.

There was no warning. No fight. No goodbye. Just an empty bed, and a note, and the sound of something breaking that she couldn’t name.

He didn’t know what she looked like in that moment.

Didn’t know the way she slid to the floor, back to the counter, note crumpled in her hand, trying to breathe around the hollowed-out space where he used to be.

He didn’t see her cry.

All he knew was that he had left.

And he hated himself for it.

five years later…

Michael hadn’t meant to come.

He told himself it was just dinner. Just a few familiar faces. Just something to fill the silence that had started to feel like its own kind of punishment.

It wasn’t nostalgia, not exactly. Nostalgia required sweetness, and he’d scraped most of that out of himself years ago.

But the invitation had come anyway—some old friend from undergrad, or med school, or residency, someone he hadn’t seen in years but still had enough of his email to keep him tethered.

“Come by if you’re in town,” it said. “It’s been forever.”

It had been forever.

And Michael—idiot that he was—had found himself driving across the city through the soft December dusk, half hoping the offer had expired by the time he arrived.

Pennsylvania never changed much. It was gray and clumsy in the winter, still bitter enough to make your bones ache if you didn’t move fast enough. The streets were slick with slush. The streetlights glowed gold on the pavement. Somewhere in the distance, carolers sang just off-key.

But the house? The house was warm.

Not just in the literal sense—with its firelight flickering behind windows, the sharp glow of a chandelier, the steam rising from pots in the kitchen—but warm in the way that made your chest hurt.

Laughter spilled from the porch. Music floated through the cracks in the windows. He could see the silhouettes of coats being shrugged off, cheeks kissed, wine poured.

He parked across the street and left the engine running.

He told himself he just needed a minute. Just a minute.

And then—he saw her.

Through the window. Like a movie he had no right to watch.

She was wearing soft pink, not scrubs but something casual and delicate, like the inside of a seashell. Her hair was up. A few strands curled against her neck, the way they used to when she rushed from the shower and didn’t have time to dry it all the way.

She looked older—but in the kind of way that hurt, because it meant time had passed without him. Because it meant she had kept living while he had buried himself alive.

She was talking to someone, laughing. There was a wine glass in her hand. A freckle he remembered just barely visible near her collarbone. When she smiled—God, when she smiled—it twisted something in his ribs.

He should’ve left. Should’ve never come.

But instead, he sat there, drowning in it.

In her.

It had been five years.

Five years since he left.

Five years since she kissed him like she believed he’d come back.

And he had left like he knew he never would.

That last night haunted him. The way she had wrapped herself around him like she was memorizing him. The softness of her lips, trembling just slightly. The way her hands had lingered against his back, as if she could keep him there by sheer will.

She had whispered, “See you in the morning,” into the curve of his neck, her voice barely audible, casual like it meant nothing at all.

And he had kissed her like he believed he could make that true.

But it was like she knew what was coming, on some deeper level. Like her body had braced for it before her mind could catch up.

There was no morning for them. Not after that.

No safety. No stability. No staying.

He had packed too fast. Left without enough. Told himself it was better this way—for her, for them. That she deserved more than someone already half-destroyed.

It hadn’t mattered. It had broken her anyway.

It had broken him.

He looked away from the window, throat tight. A dog barked somewhere nearby. He couldn’t breathe.

Michael reached for the door handle.

Just do it, he told himself. Go in. Say hello. Apologize. Pretend to be someone who deserved to walk through that door.

But then he looked up again—just as she turned, laughed, leaned against the counter like she belonged there—and everything in him stalled.

Because she did belong there.

She looked happy. Or at least… okay. Stable. Surrounded by light and warmth and people who hadn’t vanished when things got hard. What right did he have to walk back in now, five years too late?

None. Absolutely none.

He dropped his hand from the door.

And drove away.

He didn’t see her turn back toward the living room.

Didn’t see the small boy—curly-haired, pajama-clad—pad over and raise his arms.

Didn’t see her scoop him up and nuzzle her nose into his cheek like it was the easiest, most natural thing in the world.

Didn’t see the boy giggle, and press his hand to her face, and whisper something that made her laugh even harder.

He didn’t see any of it.

All he saw was her silhouette, soft and golden, disappearing behind curtains as he turned the corner and left her behind again.

He told himself it was better this way. Cleaner. Safer.

He told himself she had moved on. That she didn’t need him. That he didn’t need her.

But as the city lights blurred past his windshield, as the ache in his chest settled deeper, more permanent—

Michael knew he was still lying.

To her. To himself. And to whatever part of him that still woke up some nights thinking she was there.

present day…

There was a rhythm to emergency.

You breathed in crisis. Bled urgency. Learned to function in the eye of the storm.

And Dr. Robby had made a home in the storm.

That morning had been like any other. Fast. Messy. Loud.

A cardiac arrest. A teen with a bullet in his shoulder. An elderly woman with a stroke mid-grocery run. The ER moved like it always did: fast and fractured.

Until it didn’t.

Until everything stopped.

The moment he heard her voice.

“Move! He’s crashing—give me the crash cart, and get respiratory down here, now!”

He froze mid-step, the trauma form in his hand suddenly weightless.

That voice. Familiar. Unshakable.

He turned toward the chaos at trauma bay two—and there she was.

Pink salmon scrubs stained with something dark. Her hair half pulled back, half falling out. Her hands fluttering between the boy on the gurney and the nurse trying to get a BP cuff on.

And her eyes—God, her eyes. Were wild, terrified.

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

Not in this city. Not in this hospital. Not on this day.

She was yelling something about sats. Chest pain. A fall.

“He got hit—he was riding to school and some jackass blew through the stop sign—he wasn’t moving, he was cyanotic, I couldn’t find a pulse—so I just started compressions, I didn’t wait for the ambulance—”

Her voice cracked. “I was right next to him and I didn’t react fast enough, fuck—I should’ve seen it coming, I should’ve grabbed him—”

Someone—Whittaker, already gowned up—stepped in beside her. “We’ve got him now. You have to step back, let us work.”

“He’s my son.”

The words cracked something in him.

The boy. Robby saw him clearly now. Pale. Unconscious. A small bruise blooming across his temple. Dark lashes stuck together from oxygen tubing, blood, and sweat.

He couldn’t look away.

Because something inside him twisted hard—like recognition, like guilt, like some ancient ache that had been sleeping for ten years and woke up screaming.

The boy looked like her. Same cheekbones. Same curve of the jaw. Even the soft dip in his left cheek, like it had been sculpted by memory. But the eyes—

They were closed now, but when they’d fluttered open briefly under the lights—

Brown.

Not hazel, not green. Not hers.

His.

It was a stupid thing to fixate on, maybe. But in that split-second, his brain flooded with it. The timeline. The math. Ten years since he left. The kid—what, eight? Nine?

The breath Robby took didn’t make it to his lungs. It caught somewhere deep in his chest, behind his ribs, sharp and sudden like broken glass.

He took a step back without realizing it, hand coming up like he might need to steady himself on something, anything. The edge of the trauma board. The counter. The wall.

He felt the air shift beside him before he heard the voice.

Dana.

She didn’t say anything right away. Just appeared at his side like she always did when things went sideways—silent, sharp, steady. Her eyes flicked from the boy to Robby’s face and back again.

“You okay?” she asked quietly, too low for anyone else to hear.

Robby didn’t answer.

Didn’t know how to.

Because his mind was spiraling now. Backward. Forward. In every direction at once.

She hadn’t seen him yet. She didn’t know he was there. But that didn’t stop the crash. The sound of her voice cracked through him like a whip, and now this—this kid, with her face and his eyes—it was too much.

“I think—” he tried, then stopped. Swallowed hard.

Dana gently guided him toward the side wall, just out of the direct chaos. “Just breathe for a second. I’ve got it. I’ve got eyes on the board.”

“I need—” he started again, but his throat closed up.

“Hey,” she said, softer now. “It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t. It was anything but.

Because standing there, watching that boy fight for breath, watching her fight like hell to keep him here, Robby felt everything he had buried start to claw its way to the surface.

The weight of the note he left.

The sound of the train pulling away.

The memory of her asleep, the light spilling into the room, her hand on his chest like she was anchoring him.

He’d thought that version of himself was dead. Buried under work and years and choices he couldn’t take back.

But now—now it was like the past had ripped itself open and demanded he look.

The room blurred for a second. He blinked hard. Tried to focus.

He heard her voice again, still panicked.

“Why the hell aren’t we intubating?! He needs to be intubated!”

Whittaker again, calm and unmoved. “He’s stable enough to scan. You can come with us if you stay out of the way.”

A voice behind his left shoulder now—one of the paramedics.

“She brought him in herself. Collapsed on the street. She didn’t wait for the ambulance—drove like a maniac to get him here. Said she didn’t trust the timing.”

He still hadn’t moved.

The whole world had narrowed to the sound of her breath, the strain in her voice, the way her hand shook as she pushed hair from the boy’s forehead.

Then—quiet. A new voice. Softer. Dana again, back in the room now.

“He’s going to be okay. He’s stable. We’ve got him.”

She exhaled for the first time.

Just once. Then pressed a hand to her chest like she needed to physically hold herself together.

And that’s when someone said her name.

Soft. Familiar.

The sound of it—her name—snapped Robby out of whatever fog he’d been standing in.

That was all it took.

He moved.

Through the flurry of techs and doctors. Past Mohan adjusting the IV, past Whittaker calling out a page to peds. His footsteps were too loud, or maybe the whole room had just gone silent when he stepped in.

She turned at the sound of her name.

And saw him.

For the first time in ten years.

The recognition hit like a punch. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… undeniable.

Her face went still.

Not surprised. Not angry.

Just raw.

As if she’d been bracing for this moment for years without knowing it.

He opened his mouth. Didn’t even know what he was going to say.

All that came out was her name.

And everything else fell away.

© AUGUSTWINESWORLD : no translation, plagiarism, or cross posting.

One, Two, Three...4/? (RobbyxOFCxAbbot)

Robby walked into the Pitt the next day with the biggest smirk on his face. Everyone could tell something happened, most guessed correctly that he’d gotten laid, but few knew who with.

Jack glanced up as Robby arrived at the nurse’s station, and immediately frowned seeing the smirk on his face. He’d seen them leaving together, he knew where that smirk came from. He had a similar one after he was with Jenn. 

“Morning, brother,” Jack said, gruffly and annoyed. Robby raised an eyebrow at him, but let it go.

“Morning, survived the night I see.”

“Barely. How was your night?” Jack asked pointedly. Robby gave him a look, and then put his hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“Come with me,” he said, heading for the stairs. Jack followed, and the walked silently up to the roof exit.

Robby waited for the door to slam shut behind them before turning to Jack. “Okay, we need to get this out in the air. I was with Jenn last night. I know you have a thing for her, so I’m sorry about that, but she was there when I needed her.”

Jack laughed sarcastically, biting his bottom lip in thought. “Jenn and I were together last week.”

“What?”

“Seems like we’re both hot for the same resident,” Jack grumbled, and walked over to the protective railing that kept people from falling off the roof. He always thought they were ridiculous, cause they certainly didn’t stop anyone who wanted to get over them. “I saw you two leaving last night, and I was jealous. I’ll admit it. And honestly brother, I’m not sure who I was more jealous of.”

“Jack…” Robby began, but stopped, unsure what to say.

Two years ago

Robby threw back another shot, shaking his head at the taste of it. Jack took his shot without a single face twitch, and Robby flipped him off. Jack laughed a bit too loudly, and Robby knew they were drunk as shit.

“We should probably call it,” he said, grabbing his wallet to pay for their tab. He slapped his card down, and the bartender rang up their bill.

“Lightweight,” Jack joked, slapping him on the back. “Let me walk you home.”

“I’m a lightweight? You’re offering to walk me home, brother,” Robby joked back. Once he paid their tab, and gave a generous tip to the lovely bartender that had maybe been flirting with him earlier, they headed out, walking towards Robby’s apartment. 

They talked shit the whole way, stumbling down the sidewalk, until finally they arrived at Robby’s building. They stopped outside, and Robby turned and gave Jack a hug. 

“Good night brother, I’ll see you in a couple days.” Robby said goodbye, and Jack hugged him back. But without their knowledge, something sparked between them. Whether it was because of the alcohol, or that the alcohol just brought it to light, but something was there, being felt by them both, at the same time, for once.

Jack looked up into Robby’s eyes, and Robby looked into his, and then they were kissing. Jack kissed desperately, like he might drown without kissing Robby, and Robby just hung on. He gave it back as much as he could, and then he was dragging Jack up the stairs and into the building, and then into his apartment, and then finally into his bedroom.

Jack pushed Robby onto the bed, grabbing his belt and unbuckling it, tossing it across the room.

“In a rush are we?” Robby questioned, and Jack answered him by pulling open his fly and pulling his jeans down to the floor. It left Robby in his tshirt and boxers, while Jack was still fully clothed. Jack grabbed Robby’s boxers and pulled them down slowly, watching Robby’s face the whole time. 

Robby tried to hide his own desperation, now that his hard cock was exposed to the cool night air. He let out a groan as Jack got down on his knees at the end of the bed, grabbing Robby’s cock and jacking it off. 

“What do you want, baby? Want me to suck your cock?” Jack demanded, and Robby could only nod his head. Jack leaned forward, putting his mouth on him and Robby’s head fell backwards with a moan. 

“Fuck...”

Jack hummed in response, and the vibrations sent a shiver down Robby’s spine. Jack sucked his cock like he was made to do it, taking him down into his throat, before pulling back and sucking on the head. 

Robby could only imagine what kind of shit Jack got up to in the military, but he was thankful for whatever it was if it taught Jack how to suck cock like a god.

“Jack…fuck…too good…”

Jack looked up at Robby, and when he caught Robby’s eyes, he smirked, deep throating his cock and choking on it. Robby felt his orgasm rush up to the edge, and he put his hand on Jack’s cheek as a warning.

Jack ignored it, sucking harder, and Robby came down his throat, moaning like a well paid whore. Jack sucked on the head until everything was out, and then swallowed, making a point to stare directly at Robby when he did.

Robby sat up, grabbing Jack’s arms and pulling at his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it. 

“What do you want me to do, baby? Want me to fuck you?” Jack asked, and Robby nodded, unable to find the words.

Jack stood up, using the bed as leverage so that his prosthetic leg could get into place properly. He until his belt and his zipper, pushing his jeans and boxers down at the same time, stepping out of them.

“Use your words, baby. What do you want?”

“Want you to fuck me…” Robby whispered, leaning forward to kiss down Jack’s chest. 

“Got lube?” Robby nodded towards the nightstand, and Jack walked over to grab it. “Get on your knees.”

Robby was quick to obey the command, getting on all fours and presenting himself to Jack. Jack stood back to appreciate the sight, then opened the lube to squeeze some onto his fingers. He warmed it up, before slowly sliding a finger into Robby.

Robby let out a long moan and the feeling, and Jack was quickly able to move onto two fingers.

“You fuck yourself, baby? Get yourself nice and open for me?”

“Not…not for you, necessarily,” Robby panted in response.

Jack slapped his ass hard, and Robby felt his cock hardening again.

“Slut, getting your hole ready for any random cock to fuck it.” Jack inserted a third finger, spreading them to stretch Robby open. 

When he felt he was ready, Jack poured some lube onto his own hard cock, and lined up with Robby’s hole.

“Ready, baby?” Robby nodded vigurously, and letting out a moan as Jack slowly pushed in. When Jack bottomed out, he rubbed Robby’s ass where he slapped it. 

“Fuck, you’re tight. Gonna fuck you so good,” Jack muttered, pulling out before slamming back in. He fucked into Robby hard, and Robby took it, using his arms to keep him from being pushed forward on the bed. 

“Touch yourself, get yourself off on my cock,” Jack ordered, and Robby quickly obeyed, grabbing his own cock and jacking it off. 

“Jack…gonna cum…” Robby moaned, and Jack nodded, and though Robby couldn’t see it, he felt it.  

“Me too baby, where do you want me? Want me to cum all over you?” Robby nodded, “Yes…fuck yes.”

Jack thrust into him a few more times before pulling out and jacking his cock onto Robbys back. Robby came with a groan, and that set Jack off, coming all over Robby’s back and ass. 

Robby collapsed onto his stomach, and Jack moved to lay down next to him. The men breathed loudly, trying to catch their breath, but didn’t say another word to each other. Robby fell asleep shortly after, and when he woke up in the morning, feeling like shit and ready to pop some pain meds, he noticed Jack was gone. 

Present

“You left, and we never talked about it again. Now you’re telling me you’re jealous?” Robby questioned, and Jack ran his hand down his face.

“Yes, no maybe. We were drunk, I didn’t want to hold you to something you did while under the influence.”

“You were drunk too, and I wasn’t drunk enough to have a random gay fuck with my best friend. I knew what we were doing. I wanted it.”

“I wanted it too, that’s why I couldn’t take it if you regretted it. So I just let it go, and held onto the memory of it.”

“What about Jenn?” Robby asked, curious where the resident fit in.

“I like her, the same way I like you. I don’t know where that leaves me.”

Robby didn’t have an answer for that, so he just moved forward, grabbing Jack’s face, and kissed him deeply.

Jack kissed him back, grabbing Robby’s hips. After a moment Robby pulled back, leaning his forehead against Jack’s.

“I have an idea…”

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

Too Sweet 2/? (RobbyxOFC)

Everly wasn’t sure why Robby was always so grumpy. He certainly didn’t sleep enough, or eat enough, or socialize enough. But none of those things seemed to bother him. Sometimes she would see him run his hand over his face, exhausted with the entire world, and she would frown. 

No one ever saw her frown, except when she looked at Robby. It was only ever when he wasn’t looking, when he was looking at her she was nothing but smiles. But when he wasn’t aware anyone was watching, she would frown, worried that he was sad, that he was lonely. 

On those days, when he was extra sad looking, she would make sure to be brighter than ever. Smiling at him more often, making sure he had some water, his coffee, a homemade muffin she’d stayed up late baking the night before. Robby always took whatever she gave him with a small smile, thanking her gratefully. 

Collins watched the two of them one day, chatting against the wall in the hallway, unknowingly leaning closer to each other as they talked.

“I can’t believe it’s been three months, and they are still circling each other,” she said to Dana, who looked up from her desk, glasses perched on her nose. 

“Told you it would take a while for Robby to get it together enough to ask her out,” Dana replied, having won their bet two months ago when the first month passed with no movement on the romance part. 

“I just really thought she’d break him sooner.”

“I have a lot of faith in that girl, but Robby is made of stone. It’s gonna take a while to chip away at him.,” Dana explained, stepping away to take a phone call. Collins continued to watch Everly and Robby, until Langdon came up to her.

“They hook up yet?” he asked, and Collins shook her head. 

“Nope, still dancing around,” she answered. Langdon gave a groan, and moved on, looking at the board to see what case he wanted next.

Mateo came walking down the hallway, stopping when he saw Everly and Robby.

“Hey Ev, we still on for tonight?”

Robby looked at him, then at Everly, waiting for an explanation.

“Oh, yup, still on! 8pm, unless we get stuck here,” she giggled slightly, and Mateo smiled, before nodding at Robby and continuing on.

“You and Mateo, are…?”

“Oh, Mateo asked if I wanted to go for drinks. It’s not a big thing, but you never know!” Everly smiled up at him, her consistent enthusiasm almost contagious, at least it was to everyone except Robby.

“So you two are going on a date?” he asked again, more clearly. He tried to sound nonchalant, but his need to know the answer crept into his tone of voice.

“No, I mean yeah, technically I guess, yes. But it’s just casual, see how things go, you know,” Everly’s smiled started to falter, but she forced it on. 

“Oh, that’s…good. Well, I think we should get back to work, I think Mr. Smith in Central five is ready for his head CT.” Robby cleared his throat,  crossing his arms over his chest and looking towards Central five.

“Oh, yeah, okay. Mr. Smith, I am on my way!” Everly joked, walking away and towards her patient. Langdon walked up to Robby then.

“Really man? That was just tragic to witness,” Langdon teased.

“What was tragic?”

“You, failing miserably to flirt with Taylor. She was practically begging you with her eyes to flirt with her, to tell her not to go on that date with Mateo, and you totally blew it.”

“That…is none of your business, Frank. If Dr. Taylor wants to go on a date with someone, she is more than welcome to.”

“Yeah, see what I mean? Tragic, you don’t even know how deep you are.”

“Frank, go help someone.” Robby ordered, and Langdon just laughed lightly before heading off. 

Robby spent the rest of the day in a mood, a funk as Dana would call it, and nothing Everly did brought him out of it. She wasn’t sure what caused his sudden mood change; he’d been his normal grumpy all day, this was extra level grumpy. 

Eventually time came to end the shift, and unsurprisingly they had run late. The bar Everly and Mateo were going to was right near the hospital, so he had said he’d meet her there while she got ready. She’d brought her stuff with her just for this reason. 

Pulling off her scrubs left her in a pair of black lacy panties and a matching bra. It had been itching at her all day, but she knew it would be worth it to wear them with her dress. She slipped the black silky number on, contouring perfectly to her body and the bra helped push her meager cleavage up to give the appearance of any at all. 

She finished off the look with a pair of heels and some red lipstick, throwing on a bit of eyeshadow to try and make herself more presentable for a date. Everly was on her way out of the locker room when she ran into Robby, literally. 

“Oof,” she said, almost falling backwards because her balance was off with the heels. Robby quickly grabbed her arms and pulled her back up, unfortunately she was so tiny he pulled her directly into his chest. She peeked up at him to see him looking down at her, rubbing her arms gently. 

“Sorry, Dr. Robby, lost my balance,” Everly explained, and she felt Robby drop her arms like he’d been burned. 

“No worries here, you look…’ Robby took a minute to look her up and down (mostly down, let’s be honest). “Nice. You look very nice.”

Everly couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed, she was going for a little more than nice. “Thank you, Robby. I guess I should go, don’t wanna leave Mateo hanging.” She smiled brightly up at him, and Robby felt his heart flutter. 

“Right, Mateo. Have fun.”

Everly nodded, and quickly headed out of the hospital.

Robby turned around to see Dana, Collins, Langdon, and Mohan watching him from the nurse’s station. 

“What?” he asked. Dana shook her head, Collins and Langdon smirked, and Mohan just looked sad. Robby frowned at them, and went off to help a patient. His mind was focused on Everly, and if she was having fun with Mateo. Maybe she was flirting with him, and he was responding. Maybe she was gonna kiss him, and take him home, and fuck him stupid, and Robby needed to stop that thought train. He ran his hand over his face, scratching his beard lightly, and tried to focus on his job. 

Everly was tipsy, but definitely not drunk, and although she was having a great time with Mateo, he just wasn’t her type. He seemed to be getting the same vibe, and after a couple more drinks he asked if she wanted to call it a night around 10pm. She agreed, and he offered to call her a cab, but she decided to walk. She didn’t live far, so with a kiss on the cheek and a hug, they went their separate ways. 

Everly took off her heels, deciding it was safer to walk barefoot than to try and stumble home. She carried them in her hand, walking quickly to get home. It’d been a long shift, and she needed to be back in for 7am. As she turned a corner onto her street, she felt something smack into the back of head, and she fell forward, dropping her heels. Saving herself by grabbing onto a wall, she went to turn around, when a fist came out of nowhere and punched her in the face. Everly went down, and quickly lost consciousness.

Ted Lasso Masterlist

Jamie Tartt

Meet Cousin McAdoo

Caffeine Crash

Tour de Richmond

Go For It

Cuddle Me Like You Mean It

Sentiments

Officially Mine

Baby Tartt Do Do Do Do Do Do

Are You Ashamed?

Meddlesome

Pity Date

Always On the Sidelines

Here On Out

The Music In Me

I Live for You

Stay Right Here

Autographs

Roy Kent

It's A Family Affair

Bad Influence

Mr. & Mrs. Kent

Gentle Heart

Unexpectedly Yours Masterlist (Regency AU)

Little Mic Interviews

Story 12: Chibs/Juice

Summary: Summary: Part of the Three: The Magic Number Series. Reader/OC x 2 of the Sons/Mayans. Purely smut with occasional plot/humor. 18+. Smut below the cut!

Chibs sat sipping whiskey with his eyes closed as he stroked his cock. The sounds of your whines and moans teasing him through the gag in your mouth. He smiled as he heard the sharp sound of a smack and a strangled sob come from you. Opening one eye he took in the sight on the bed. Your expression was one of cock drunkness as drool pooled around the gag and dripped down your chin and neck. Glistening in the light as your head was pulled back farther making you moan. Tears mixed with your makeup running down your face.

You were bound in an intricate display of ropes. Tits bouncing with each powerful thrust of the man behind you. Skin littered with love bites. Ass bouncing back and turning red and blue from Juices hand. Juices breathing was ragged and his thrust were getting sloppy as his release built up. “Chibs” he grunted as the men made eye contact.

“Aye Laddie. I’m ready for my next go” replied Chibs as he stood up and moved towards the bed. Juice came with another deep thrust and smack to your ass that triggered your own release.

“Kitten is soaked” laughed Chibs as he watched a mix of your arousal and their cum flow down your thighs as Juice pulled out of you. Juice planted a kiss to your forehead as he moved to sit in the chair that Chibs had just vacated.

You squirmed trying to get away as you let out desperate please as Chibs slid the tip of his cock through your messy folds. It was too much. Your body couldn’t take anymore.

“Shh, its okay kitten.” Soothed Chibs as he pressed kisses to your back as his hands kneaded your bruised ass cheeks while his cock rested between them. “Been so good for me and Juice. Such a good girl” he cooed as he kept up his gentle kisses and kneading. Feeling your body relax underneath him. “Going to let her rest a bit yeah.” He stated as he rose back up and raised your hip slightly before spreading your ass cheeks open.

“You have another hole we can use” he murmured before spitting on your ass hole and using one of his thumbs to work it in. You whined and you’re back arched at the intrusion. After a few minutes of Chibs loosening you up you felt his cock head start to push in slowly. “Shits just as tight as her pussy” grunted Chibs to Juice who was watching intently as his cock bobbed up and down. He barely gave you a moment once he was completely in before he was fucking you with abandon. His hands keeping you pressed firmly down in the bed as he used you.

Later

“Did so good” whispered Juice as he sat behind you in the tub washing your hair as Chibs fed you pieces of cheese and grapes from the side of  it. “Very good love. Just like always” agreed Chibs as you smiled at him.

Return to Masterlist

Asking Robby to walk you down the aisle after u said yes to Jack hOLD MY HAND SYDDDD 😭😭😭😭

The Handoff 𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪₊ ⊹˚

a/n : I fear I took your idea and turned it into a 4k word emotional spiral. I genuinely couldn’t help myself. like… Jack crying in uniform??? Robby soft-dad-coded and holding it together until he can’t??? the handoff?? the dress reveal??

summary : Jack proposes in the trauma bay. You say yes. Before the wedding, you ask Robby to walk you down the aisle.

content/warnings: emotional wedding fluff, quiet proposal energy, found family themes, Jack crying in uniform, Robby in full dad-mode, reader with no biological family, soft military references, subtle grief, emotional intimacy, and everyone in the ER being completely unprepared for Jack Abbot to have visible feelings.

word count : 4,149 (... hear me out)

You hadn’t expected Jack to propose.

Not because you didn’t think he wanted to. But because Jack Abbot didn’t really ask for things. He was a man of action. Not words. Never had been.

But with you? He always showed it.

Like brushing your shoulder on the way to a trauma room—not for luck, not for show, just to say I’m here.

It was how he peeled oranges for you. Always handed to you in a napkin, wedges split and cleaned of the white stringy parts—because you once mentioned you hated them. And he remembered.

It was how he left the porch light on when you got held over.

How he’d warm your side of the bed with a heating pad when your back ached.

He’d hook his pinky with yours in the hallway. Leave your favorite hoodie—his—folded on your pillow when he knew he’d miss you by a few hours.

Jack didn’t say “I love you” like other people. He said it like this. In gestures. In patterns. In choosing you, over and over, without fanfare.

No big speeches. No dramatic declarations.

Just peeled oranges. Warm beds. Soft touches.

So when it finally happened—a proposal, of all things—it caught you off guard.

Not because you didn’t think he meant it. But because you’d never pictured it. Not from him. Not like this.

The trauma bay was quiet now. The kind of quiet that only happens after a win—after the adrenaline fades, the stats even out and the patient lives. You’d both been working the case for nearly forty minutes, side by side, barked orders and that intense, seamless rhythm you’d only ever found with him.

You saved a life tonight. Together.

And now the world outside the curtain was humming soft and far away.

You stood by the sink, scrubbing off the last of the blood—good blood, this time. He was leaning against the supply cabinet, gloves off. Something in his shoulders had dropped. His body loose in that way it never really was unless you were alone.

He didn’t speak at first.

Just watched you in that quiet way he always did when his guard was down—like he was trying to memorize you, just in case you weren’t there to catch him tomorrow.

You flicked water from your hands. “What?”

“Nothing.”

You gave him a look.

He hesitated.

Then, casually—as casually as only Jack could manage while asking you something that was about to gut you—

“I’d marry you.”

You froze. Not dramatically. Not visibly. Just enough that he caught the subtle change in your face, the way your mouth parted like you needed more air all of a sudden.

His eyes didn’t move. He didn’t smile. Didn’t joke.

“If you wanted,” he added after a beat, voice a little lower now. A little rougher. “I would.”

It didn’t sound like a performance. It sounded like a truth he’d been sitting on for months. One he only knew how to say in places like this—where the lighting was too bright and your hearts were still racing and nothing else existed but you two still breathing.

Your chest ached.

“Yeah,” you said. It came out quieter than you meant to. “I’d marry you too.”

He exhaled slowly through his nose.

And then he stepped toward you—not fast, not dramatic, just steady. Like he’d already decided that he was yours. Like this wasn’t new, just something the two of you had known without ever having to say it.

No ring. No big speech. No audience.

Just you. Him. The place where it all made sense.

“You’re it for me,” he murmured.

And you smiled too, because yeah—he didn’t say things often. But when he did?

They wrecked you.

Because he meant them. And he meant this.

You. Forever.

You didn’t tell anyone, not right away.

Not because you wanted to keep it a secret. But because you didn’t have anyone to tell. Not in the way other people did.

There were no group texts. No parents to call. No siblings waiting on the other end of the line, ready to scream and cry and make it real. You’d built your life from the ground up—and for a long time, that had felt like enough. You’d learned how to move through the world quietly. Efficiently. Without needing to belong to anyone. Without needing to be someone’s daughter.

But then came residency.

And Robby.

He hadn’t swooped in. Hadn’t made it obvious. That wasn’t his style. But the first week of your intern year, when you’d gotten chewed out by a trauma surgeon in the middle of the ER, it was Robby who handed you a water, sat next to you in the stairwell, and said, “He’s an asshole. Don’t let it stick.”

After that, it just… happened. Slowly.

He checked your notes when you looked too tired to think. He drove you home once in a snowstorm and started keeping granola bars in his glovebox—just in case.

He noticed you never talked about home. Never mentioned your parents. Never took time off for holidays.

He never asked. But he was always there.

When you matched into the program full-time, he texted, Knew it.

When you pulled your first solo central line, he left a sticky note on your locker: Took you long enough, show-off.

When a shift gutted you so bad you couldn’t breathe, he sat beside you on the floor of the supply room and didn’t say a word.

You never called him a father figure. You didn’t need to.

He just was.

So when the proposal finally felt real—settled, certain—you knew who you had to tell first.

You found him three days later, camped at his usual spot at the nurse’s station—reading glasses sliding down his nose, his ridiculous “#1 Interrogator” mug tucked in one hand. He didn’t notice you at first. You just stood there, stomach buzzing, watching the way he tapped his pen against the margin like he was trying not to throw the whole file out a window.

“Hey,” you said, trying not to fidget.

He looked up. “You look like you’re about to tell me someone died.”

“No one died.”

He leaned back in the chair, eyebrows raised. “Alright. Hit me.”

You opened your mouth—then paused. Your heart was thudding like you’d just sprinted up from sub-level trauma.

Then, quiet: “Jack proposed.”

A beat.

Another.

Robby blinked. “Wait—what?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Three days ago.”

His mouth opened. Then shut again. Then opened.

“In the middle of a shift?” he asked finally, like he couldn’t decide whether to be horrified or impressed.

You smiled. “End of a code. We’d just saved a guy. He said, ‘I’d marry you. If you wanted.’”

Robby looked down, then laughed quietly. “Of course he did. That’s so him.”

“I said yes.”

“Obviously you did.”

You shifted your weight, suddenly unsure.

“I didn’t know who to tell. But… I wanted you to know first.”

That landed.

He didn’t say anything. Just stared at you, his face soft in that way he rarely let it be. Like something behind his ribs had cracked open a little.

Then he let out a breath. Slow. Rough at the edges.

“He told me, you know,” he said. “A few weeks ago. That he was thinking about it.”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

“Well—‘told me’ is generous,” he muttered. “He cornered me outside the supply closet and said something like, ‘I don’t know if she’d say yes, but I think I need to ask.’ Then grunted and walked away.”

You laughed, head tilting. “That sounds about right.”

“I figured it would happen eventually,” Robby said. “I just didn’t know it already had. This is the first I’m hearing that he actually went through with it.”

He looked down at his coffee, thumb brushing the rim. Then back up at you with something warm in his expression that made your throat go tight.

“I’m proud of you, kid. Really.”

Your throat tightened.

“I don’t really have… anyone,” you said. “Not like that. But you’ve always been—”

He waved a hand, cutting you off before you could get too sentimental. His voice was quiet when he said, “I know.”

You nodded. Tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

“You crying on me?” he teased gently.

“No,” you lied.

“Liar.”

He reached up and gave your arm a firm pat—one of those dad-move, no-nonsense gestures—but he kept his hand there for a second, steady and warm.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he said. “The two of you. That’s gonna be something good.”

You smiled at the floor. Then at him.

“Hey, Robby?”

He looked up. “Yeah?”

You opened your mouth—hesitated. The words were there. Right there on your tongue. But they felt too big, too final for a hallway and a half-empty cup of coffee.

You shook your head, smiling just a little. “Actually… never mind.”

His eyes softened instantly. No push. No questions.

Just, “Alright. Whenever you’re ready.”

And somehow, you knew—he already knew what you were going to ask. And when the time came, he’d say yes without hesitation.

It happened on a Wednesday. Late enough in the evening that most of the ER had emptied out, early enough that the halls still echoed with footsteps and intercom beeps and nurses joking in breakrooms. You’d just finished a back-to-back shift—one of those long, hazy doubles where time folds in on itself. Your ID badge was flipped around on its lanyard. You smelled like sweat, sanitizer, and twelve hours of recycled air.

You found Robby in the stairwell.

Not for any sentimental reason—that’s just where he always went to decompress. A quiet landing. One of the overhead lights had a faint flicker, and he was sitting on the fourth step, half reading something, half just existing. His hoodie sleeves were shoved up to his elbows.

He looked tired in that familiar, permanent way. But settled. Like someone who wasn’t trying to be anywhere else.

“Hey,” you said, voice low.

He looked up instantly. “You good?”

You nodded. Walked down a few steps until you were standing just above him.

“I need to ask you something.”

He squinted. “You pregnant?”

You snorted. “No.”

“Did Jack do something stupid?”

“Also no.”

He closed the folder in his lap and gave you his full attention.

You hesitated. A long beat. “Okay, so—when I was younger, I used to lie.”

Robby blinked. “That’s where this is going?”

You ignored him.

“I’d make up stories about my family. At school. Whenever there was some essay or form or ‘bring your parents to career day’ crap—I’d just invent someone. A dad who was a firefighter. A mom who was a nurse. A grandma who sent birthday cards.”

Robby didn’t move. Just listened.

“And I got good at it. Lying. Not because I wanted to, but because it was easier than explaining why I didn’t have anybody. Why there was no one to call if something happened. Why I always stayed late. Why I never talked about holidays.”

You looked down at him now. Really looked at him.

“I didn’t make anything up this time.”

His brow furrowed, just slightly.

“Because I have someone now,” you said. “I do.”

He didn’t say anything. Not yet.

You took a breath that shook a little in your chest.

“And I’m getting married in a few months, and there’s this part I keep thinking about. The aisle. Walking down it. That moment.”

You cleared your throat.

“I don’t want it to be random. Or symbolic. Or just… for show.”

Another breath.

“I want it to be you.”

Robby blinked once.

Then again.

His mouth opened like he was about to say something. Closed. Then opened again.

“You want me to walk you?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

He exhaled hard. Looked away for a second like he needed the extra space to catch up to his own heart.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re really trying to kill me.”

You smiled. “You can say no.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” He looked up at you, and his voice cracked just slightly. “Of course I’ll do it.”

You hadn’t expected to get emotional. Not really. But hearing it out loud—that he’d do it, that he meant it—it undid something small and knotted in your chest.

“You’re one of the best things that ever happened to me, you know that?” he said.

“I didn’t have a plan when you showed up that first year. Just thought, ‘this kid needs a break,’ and next thing I knew you were stealing my chair and bitching about suture kits like we’d been doing this for a decade.”

You laughed, throat thick. “That sounds about right.”

“I’m gonna need a suit now, huh?”

“You don’t have to wear a suit.”

“Oh, no, no. I’m going full emotional support tuxedo. I’m showing up with cufflinks. Maybe a cane.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

He stood then—slower than he used to, one hand on the railing—and looked at you with that same warmth he always tried to hide under sarcasm and caffeine.

“You did good, kid.”

You gave a crooked smile. “Thanks.”

The music started before you were ready.

It was quiet at first. Just the soft swell of strings rising behind the door. But your hands were shaking, your throat was tight, and everything felt too big all of a sudden.

Robby looked over, standing next to you in the little alcove just off the chapel doors, tie only mostly straight, boutonniere slightly crooked like he’d pinned it on in the car.

“You’re breathing like you’re about to code out,” he said gently.

You gave him a half-laugh, half-gasp. “I think I might.”

He tilted his head. “You okay?”

“No,” you whispered, eyes already burning. “I don’t know—maybe. Yes. I just—Jack’s out there. And everyone’s watching. What if I trip? Or ugly cry? Or completely blank and forget how to walk?”

Robby didn’t flinch. He just reached out and took your hand—steady and instinctive—his thumb brushing over your knuckles the way he had that night during your intern year, when you’d locked yourself in the on-call room and couldn’t stop shaking after your first failed intubation. He didn’t say anything then either. Just sat beside you on the floor and held your hand like this—anchoring, patient, there.

“Hey,” Robby said—steady, but quieter now. “You’re walking toward the only guy I’ve ever seen drop everything—without thinking—just because you looked a little off walking out of a shift.”

You blinked, chest already starting to tighten.

“I’ve watched him learn you,” Robby continued. “Slow. Quiet. Like he was memorizing every version of you without making it a thing. The tired version. The pissed-off version. The one who forgets to eat and pretends she’s fine.”

He let out a quiet laugh, still looking right at you.

“I’ve seen Jack do a thoracotomy with one hand and hold pressure with the other. I’ve seen him walk into scenes nobody else wanted, shirt soaked, pulse steady, like he already knew how it would end. He doesn’t rattle. Hell, I watched him take a punch from a drunk in triage and not even blink.”

His hand tightened around yours—just slightly.

“That’s how I know,” he said. “That this is it. Because Jack—the guy who’s walked into burning scenes with blood on his boots and didn’t even flinch—looked scared shitless the second he realized he couldn’t picture his life without you. Not because he didn’t think you’d say yes. But because he knew it meant something. That this wasn’t something he could compartmentalize or walk away from if it got hard. Loving you? That’s the one thing he can't afford to lose.”

Your eyes burned instantly. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“Good. Less pressure on me to be the first one.”

You gave him a teary smile. “You ready?”

Robby offered his arm. “Kid, I’ve been ready since the day you stopped listing ‘N/A’ under emergency contact.”

The doors creaked open.

You sucked in a breath.

And then—

The music swelled.

Not the dramatic kind—no orchestral swell, no overblown strings. Just the soft, deliberate rise of something warm and low and steady. Something that sounded like home.

The crowd stood. Rows of people from different pieces of your life, blurred behind the blur in your eyes. You couldn’t see any one of them clearly—not Dana, not Langdon, not Whitaker fidgeting with his tie—but you felt them. Their hush. Their stillness.

And at the far end of the aisle stood Jack—dressed in his Army blues.

Not a rented tux. Not a tailored suit.

His uniform.

Pressed. Precise. Quietly immaculate.

It wasn’t a performance. It wasn’t for show. It was him.

He hadn’t worn it to make a statement. He wore it because there were people in the pews who knew him from before—before the ER, before Pittsburgh, before you. Men and women who had bled beside him, saved lives beside him, watched him shoulder more than anyone should—and never once seen him like this.

Undone. Open.

There were people in his family who’d worn that uniform long before him. And people he’d served with who taught him what it meant to wear it well. Not for attention. Not for tradition. But because it meant something. A history. A duty. A vow he never stopped honoring—even long after the war ended.

And when you saw him standing there—dress blues crisp under the soft chapel light, shoulders squared, mouth tight, eyes full—you didn’t see someone dressed for a ceremony.

You saw him.

All of him. The past, the present, the parts that had been broken and rebuilt a dozen times over. The weight he’d never put down. The man he’d become when no one else was watching.

Jack didn’t flinch as the doors opened. He didn’t smile, didn’t wipe his eyes. He just stood there—steady, quiet, letting himself feel it.

Letting you see it.

And somehow, that meant more than anything he could’ve said.

The room stayed still, breath held around you.

Until, from somewhere near the front, Javadi’s whisper sliced through the quiet:

“Is he—oh my God, is Abbot crying?”

Mohan choked on a mint. Someone—maybe Santos—audibly gasped.

And halfway down the aisle—when your breath caught and your knees went just a little loose—Robby spoke, voice low and smug, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Well,” Robby muttered, voice low and smug, “remind me to collect $20 from Myrna next shift.”

You glanced at him, confused. “What?”

He didn’t look at you. Just kept his eyes forward, deadpan. “Nothing. Just—turns out you weren’t the only one betting on whether Jack would cry.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“She said he was carved from Army-grade stone and wouldn’t shed a tear if the hospital burned down with him inside. I disagreed.”

You gawked at him.

“She told me—and I quote—‘If Dr. Y/L/N ever changes her mind, tell her to step aside, because I will climb that man like a jungle gym.’”

You almost tripped. “Robby.”

“She’s got her sights set. Calls him ‘sergeant sweetheart’ when the nurses aren’t looking.”

You clamped a hand over your mouth, laughing through the tears already welling. And the altar still felt a mile away.

He finally glanced at you, face softening. “I said she didn’t stand a chance.”

You blinked fast.

“Because from the second he saw you?” Robby added, voice lower now. “That was it. He was done for.”

You had never felt so chosen. So sure. So completely loved by someone who once thought emotions were best left unsaid.

Robby must have felt the shift in your weight, because he pulled you in slightly closer. His hand—broad and warm—curved around your arm like it had a thousand times before. Steady. Grounding. Father-coded to the core.

“You got this,” he murmured. “Look at him.”

You did.

And Jack was still there—still crying. Not bothering to wipe his eyes. Not hiding it. Like he knew nothing else mattered more than this moment. Than you.

When you finally reached the end of the aisle, Jack stepped forward before the officiant could speak. Like instinct.

Robby didn’t move at first.

He just looked at you—long and hard, eyes bright.

Then looked at Jack.

Then back at you.

His hand lingered at the small of your back.

And his voice, when it came, was rougher than usual. “You good?”

You nodded, too full to speak.

He nodded back. “Alright.”

And then—quietly, like it was something he wasn’t ready to do but always meant to—he took your hand, and placed it gently into Jack’s.

Jack didn’t look away from you. His hand curled tight around yours like it was a lifeline.

Robby cleared his throat. Stepped back just a little. And you saw it—the tremble at the corner of his mouth. The way he blinked too many times in a row.

He wasn’t immune to it.

Not this time.

“You take care of her,” he said, voice thick. “You hear me?”

Jack—eyes glassy, jaw tight—just nodded. One firm, reverent nod.

“I do,” he said.

And for once, that wasn’t a promise.

It was a fact.

A vow already lived.

Robby stepped back.

A quiet shift. No words, no fuss. Just one last glance—full of something that lived between pride and grief—and then he stepped aside, slow and careful, like his body knew he had to let go before his heart was ready.

And then it was just you and Jack.

He stepped in just a little closer—like the space between you, however small, had finally become too much. His hand tightened around yours, his breath shallow, like holding it together had taken everything he had.

The moment he saw you—really saw you—something behind his eyes cracked wide open.

He didn’t smile. Not right away.

He didn’t say anything clever. Didn’t reach for you like someone confident or composed.

It was like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life—and still couldn’t believe it was real.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You tried to laugh, but it cracked—caught somewhere between joy and everything else swelling behind your ribs.

The dress fit like a memory and a dream at once. Sleek. Understated. A silhouette that didn’t beg for attention, but held it all the same. Clean lines. Long sleeves. A bodice tailored just enough to feel timeless. A low back. No shimmer. No lace. Just quiet, deliberate elegance.

Just you.

Jack took a breath—slow and shaky.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, like he wasn’t entirely sure he was speaking out loud.

You blinked fast, vision swimming.

“You’re not supposed to make me cry before we even say anything,” you managed, voice trembling.

He gave a small, broken laugh. “That makes two of us.”

You could feel the crowd behind you. Every attending. Every nurse. Every person who thought they knew Jack Abbot—stoic in trauma bays, voice sharp, pulse steady no matter what walked through the doors.

And now? They were seeing him like this.

Glass-eyed. Soft-spoken. Undone.

Jack looked at you again. Really looked.

“I knew I was gonna love you,” he said. “But I didn’t know it’d be like this.”

Your breath caught. “Like what?”

He smiled—slow, quiet, reverent.

“Like peace.”

You blinked so fast it almost turned into a sob. “God. I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” you whispered, smiling through it.

Behind you, the music began to fade. The officiant cleared his throat.

Jack didn’t move. Didn’t look away. His thumb brushed over your knuckles like it had done a thousand times before—only this time, it meant something.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” he said softly. “Not in combat. Not in med school. Not even the first time I intubated someone on a moving Humvee.”

You laughed, choked and real. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m yours,” he corrected. “That’s the important part.”

The officiant spoke then, calling for quiet.

But Jack leaned in one last time, voice so low it barely touched the air.

“Tell me when to breathe,” he said.

You smiled, heart wrecked and steady all at once.

“I’ve got you.”

And Jack Abbot—combat medic, ER attending, man who spent a lifetime holding everything together—closed his eyes and let himself believe you.

Because for once in his life, he didn’t have to be ready for the worst.

He just had to stand beside the best thing that ever happened to him.

And say yes.

Bradshaw's Date

Summary: Bradley’s younger sister has a date, but will he approve?

Warnings: None besides fluff

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: So sorry for being MIA recently. So many of you asked for the flipped version of Seresin’s date, so here we are! Hope you enjoy!

It was days like today where you wish the apartment hunting was more of a priority. Living with your brother has many, many ups, but now there was one major flaw in your slow move to find your own place.

“Hey Roo. How late do you think you’ll be at work today?” You placed a piece of bread in the toaster and lazily glanced to your brother who was drinking coffee, attention solely on his phone.

“Not too sure. Why?” You kept your back to him as you replied, hoping he wouldn’t see through your response.

“No reason. Had plans tonight and didn’t know if you would be here when I left.” The bread in the toaster popped up, making you jump. You heard the chuckle behind you and turned to roll your eyes.

“It’s like a damn jack in the box for adults.” Bradley heard your mumbling and smiled as he got up to put his cup in the sink.

“I think it’s going to be a regular day. Mav said we were running some drills but nothing serious. I’d say we will be done around dinner. Who are your plans with?”

He didn’t miss the way you tensed at the question but played it off like he was clueless. Bradley could read you like a book which is why he knew your plans were with someone you didn’t want him meeting.  

“Ah, just this guy I met. We are grabbing a few drinks and that’s it.” You put butter on you toast a little too violently for it to seem casual.

“You think I’ll like the guy?” You nearly dropped the butter knife at that question. Would your brother like the guy? Absolutely not which is why you are trying to get out of there before he gets home.

“Possibly. But do you think you would like any guy I brought home?” You heard your brother snort in response.

“Fair point.”

Bradley pulled into his driveway from work, getting home around the time he had originally said. He went to get out of his car but stopped when he saw a truck pull in behind him. Jake had gotten out dressed in jeans and a nice shirt, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around why he was standing in his driveway.

“Are you lost?” Jake gave him the smirk that one day he was going to knock off his face. Nothing got under his skin more than the guy who thinks he’s better at everything than you.

“Honestly I was trying to beat you here but damn, you drive faster than you fly.” Jake leaned against his truck as he waited for the pieces to click.

Bradley glanced up to the house and then back to his teammate. “Absolutely not. Get back in your truck and leave before I make you.”

He expected some push back or a witty remark, but instead Jake ran a hand through his hair looking like he was trying to figure out how to approach things.

“Listen man. I have sisters and I know exactly how this feels. You don’t want any guy within 20 feet of her, especially someone like me. But don’t think I asked her out for this to be a one-time thing. Your sister is special and grateful as hell that she would give me the time of day. She’s not someone you toss aside. She’s someone you work your damn hardest to prove that you’re worth her time and I’m not taking a single second for granted. At least let me take her out tonight and if she hates it or you still aren’t okay with it, I’ll back off. Sisters are something special and I would hate if a guy got between me and mine.”

Bradley didn’t know what to say. Everything in him wanted to throw him out and tell him to never look in your direction again. But damn did his words make sense. Before he had a chance to respond, he heard the front door shut.

“Well, if this doesn’t teach me to get my own place, I don’t know what will.” You walked down the steps of the house to the two men having some sort of standoff in the driveway. Jake offered you a small smile that almost seemed nervous. But your brother met your gaze with a look that told you he was beyond pissed.

“Grind your teeth any harder and your mustache might fall off.” You didn’t miss the cough that came from Jake trying to cover up a laugh, but Bradley wasn’t amused.

“Any guy. You could have gone out with any guy, but this is who you settled for?”

You saw the small flinch Jake made out of the corner of your eye and you knew trying to joke your way out of things wasn’t going to work.

“Listen here, bird boy. I am not settling for anyone, nor would I ever settle. You of all people should know that about me. And you would think me going out with one of your teammates would be better than some random stranger I picked up at a bar. If anything were to happen, you know exactly where to find them.”

Bradley nodded his head at the last statement. “Damn right I do.” You fought the eye roll and settled for a sigh.

“What’s the problem then?” Those words seemed to stop your brother in his path. It was a simple question really, and you were willing to listen to every concern he had. But you were met silence and Bradley opening and closing his mouth like he was some sort of fish.

“Well?” To your surprise, Jake had stayed quite the entire time. You knew the reputation he had, and it was one of the reasons why you were nervous for your brother to find out. But the guy standing in front of you wasn’t trying to force his way into the conversation or talk his way out of a corner. Instead, he was letting you handle things and offered supportive smiles when needed.

“It’s Hangman. I shouldn’t have to have more of a reason than that. You’ve heard what he does to people. He hangs them out to dry and what is stopping him from doing that to you?”

You heard what your brother was saying, but his own worked up opinion of his teammate was clouding his judgement so much that he failed to notice the decent things about Jake.  

“Answer me this. If you were getting chased down by a plane I’m not supposed to know exists, who would you want racing to get there in time?” You saw a small smile form on Jake’s face as he waited for his teammates answer, but it never came.  

“Next question. You say he only cares about himself, but did you ever think maybe he was trying to make everyone around him better?” You watched the frustration grow on his face as you gave him one final question.

“Would you really think I would date a pilot after everything that’s happened unless I saw something in him? I might have been too young to know dad, but I saw the loneliness mom went through.” The last question was a bit of a low blow, but Bradley needed to understand that you weren’t dating Jake as a game. You knew the risks that came with it but there was something about him that made you want to take those risks.

“I just don’t want you dating at all.” Bradley’s voice came out quieter than it was before, but you knew you had gotten through to him.

“And now we have the real reason.” Your brother gave you a confused look and you smirked at him.

“Just because you aren’t getting laid doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me.” The color drained from his face as he stepped back and shook his head.

“Oh god. You can’t say things like that. Jesus, how does a guy come back from that?” You were laughing at this point and your brother wrapped you in a tight hug.

“I don’t want to see you get hurt. Dad would kill me if he knew I was letting you go out with a pilot.” He pulled back and you smiled at him.

“But mom would be thrilled. She always said the top gun guys were something special.” You stepped out of his embrace and walked over to Jake who pulled flowers out of his truck.

“You ready to get going, sweetheart?” You looked over to your brother for confirmation that this was okay.

Bradley held out his hand to Jake. “You bring her back by 11 or I’m calling Mav.” Jake shook his hand and gave him a single head nod.

“Sure, thing Bradshaw. Your sister is safe with me.”  

Bradley stepped back towards the house and watched as Jake held the door open for you. The smile you had on your face was genuine happiness and he couldn’t help but smile as well.

Headlights flashed through the house, signaling that the two of you were gone. Bradley picked up his phone and called Mav. “Hey man. Can you do me a favor? Hangman just picked your Goddaughter up for a date and I was wondering if you can make his life hell for me tomorrow?”

A/N: Thoughts? Comments? I love to hear from you all!! Tag list is open. Please let me know if you want to be added or taken off! Thanks for reading!

Tag list: @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @angelbabyyy99 @bobfloydsgf

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻

(dr. jack abbot x nurse!reader)

⤿ synopsis: you help keep pittsburgh trauma orderly—until small, unsettling glitches hint at something ominous unraveling. whether the mystery—or your guarded heart—breaks first is the question that will decide everything.

⤿ warning(s): stalking, obsessive behaviour, medical-talk, violence & blood

chapter one;

chapter two;

chapter three;

chapter four;

chapter five;

& more to come

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