Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot X Reader

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.

Masterlist

Long Fics:

Death and the Lady: Chibs Telford X Reader. :

Y/N has tried hard to forget her past as a club hang around in Charming. She's tried to be a better person attempting to run her family's funeral home and be an upstanding member of society. However a request for a favor from SAMCRO in exchange for payment for debts drags her right back into the life she tried so hard to leave behind. The offer of payment isn't the only thing pulling her back into the world of SAMCRO. A certain Scotsman proves to be another incentive to Y/N to possibly find her way back to the life she'd sworn to leave behind.

One , Two , Three , Four , Five , Six , Seven , Eight , Nine , Ten , Eleven , Twelve , Thirteen , Fourteen , 15 ,

Lilies and Thistles:

Lily Unser comes back to Charming to be with her ailing father. She finds that the world she left behind for college is changing. Things are changing fast and she doesn't know where to stand. Soon Lily finds herself connected to someone who gives her a reason to stay in California. Is Chibs enough to keep her here? Is Lily enough to mend his damaged heart? Starts before season 1.

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Now That I Have You

Molly and her young son have come to Charming trying to start a new life after fleeing an abusive marriage. The last thing she expects to find is a relationship with a certain Scot. Chibs didn't expect to find love either but finds that he doesn't want to let go of Molly and her boy. Can he protect them when her past comes knocking? Can she accept Chibs' often dangerous life?

One , Two , Three , Four , Five , Six , Seven ,

Scorned

When Sheriff Althea Jarry returns from a sabbatical and discovers that Chibs Telford has taken an ol lady, she's none too pleased. Will her attempts to destroy the peace Chibs Telford has found with Y/N have dangerous consequences for Chibs and Y/N and all that they hold dear?

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Oneshots:

Wrong Number

When Y/N sends some enticing photos meant for her ol man to the wrong number, she receives some surprising but much hoped for results.

Belonging

Chibs decides that the best way to protect Y/N from the violence of his life is to break her heart. Y/N decides that the best way to mend her broken heart is to agree to a date with a rookie cop much to Chibs' irritation. Chibs is left attempting to win back Y/N and show her they belong to one another the only way he knows how. A smut dialog request. 18+

Deserving

When Frankie Diamonds takes Chibs Telford hostage after going on a rampage and Diosa, Y/N is left fearing the man she loves may be gone from her life forever.

Homecoming

Y/N longs for Chibs Telford after a week apart. A moment of attempting to find some relief from the tension and longing for her fiancé ends in a surprising result as Chibs arrives to a welcome home he had not been anticipating. 18+ Smut dialogue request.

Sweetness

Chibs Telford reflects on how his ol lady came into his life and showed him a sense of sweetness he never thought he deserved. During a moment of intimacy Y/N and Chibs make a surprising but pleasing discovery in the bedroom. 18+smut

Never Lost

President Chibs Telford needs some reassurance from his ol lady as he contemplates the future of SAMCRO. 18+ smut

Fight for What You Want

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When Chibs Telford overhears the woman he’s been unwilling to make a move on has a first date lined up, will he be willing to fight for her? When Y/N’s first date turns into the first date from hell will Chibs Telford’s efforts to protect her be enough to turn the night around?

Trail cam catching a deer fawn with the zoomies

Duckie

Chapter 8

pairing: bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x twin sister!reader; jake ‘hangman’ seresin x bradshaw!reader

characters: y/n bradshaw, nick bradshaw, jake seresin, bradley bradshaw (mentioned) penny benjamin (mentioned), hayden kazansky, serenity hart (hayden’s gf and nick’s baby sitter), random booth workers

word count: ~6.3k 

warnings: extremely fluffy, jake being domestic and sweet, nicky being an adorable child, mentions of deployment, just a very very fluffy chapter, mentions of food and desserts, the use of the word ‘smile’ a lot, let me know if i missed any

a/n: i am so sorry it’s been nearly two months since the last update, i got bogged down with school and summer classes, i ended up writing a whole new chapter to dive more into jake and duckie

so despite the wait, i hope you like it

series summary: daughter of goose and carole and twin sister to bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw, y/n bradshaw also got her papers pulled when she tried to enlist in the Navy. which turned out to not be as bad as she thought.

chapter summary: jake as spent weeks trying to get to know nick and duckie, hoping to show her that he was willing to be there for both of them. duckie can see that and she wants to face her fears and dip her toe in the water. so during a morning at the beach that jake stumbled upon, she asks him to go to a farmer’s market with her

duckie universe

ch 7  ch 9

Keep reading

Unexpected Visitor

Pairing: Spencer Reid x G!n Reader

WC: 788

A/N: A lil Spencer Xmas Blurb while I figure my shit out. Also! I'm imagining older seasons Spencer for this one.

"Hi! I'm, uh, so sorry to bug you but, um, do you know where Spe--Doctor Reid's desk is? Or, really, where D-Doctor Reid is?" .

Derek Morgan had to get his shit together because his jaw almost dropped when you walked in. What was some hot piece of ass doing, dressed like that, looking for Boy Genius.

He jumped up from his chair and strolled over to where you had stopped Garcia, who was just as flabbergasted as he was. "Reid is currently in a meeting sweetheart--may I ask what you, uh, want with him?"

You raised your eyebrows at the 'sweetheart', but smiled anyways. "He was supposed to be home about an hour ago and he wasn't answering his phone, so instead of panicking, because I know what you do for work, I wanted to come in and check before I lost my shit."

"Home?" Garcia squeaked out, still baffafled by how gorgeous you looked. It was like you were sent straight from heaven, a literal vision.

You nodded and tilted your head, slightly confused. "Y-Yeah...I'm sorry why is that---"

"We just didn't know Reid was living with anyone, let alone seeing someone."

"Ah." You nodded. "He's private like that, isn't he." Your smile warmed the two of them, and you shifted the coat from one arm to the other.

"y/n?"

You turned your head towards the back of the bullpen, and Spencer was walking out of Hatch's office. "What are you doing here?"

"Being introduced to your friends and coworkers since you haven't."

Spencer bit the inside of his cheeks and walked over to you both, placing his hand on the small of your back. You felt how tense he was.

"I'm here because our reservation is in twenty minutes and you said you'd be home over an hour ago." You looked at Spencer, whose eyes went a little wide.

"Shit. I-I didn't realize what time it was---"

"I have your suit in the car, and this is why I made the reservation for eight pm, instead of Seven."

"And this is why I love you." Spencer kissed your head and rushed over to his desk, scrambling to grab all of his papers and his bag and his coat and his scarf and his--

"Hi Y/n." Spencer looked up at the mention of your name, pausing in his frantic nature.

"Hi Aaron." You gave him a quick hug, but a bright smile. "How are you?"

"Well." He laughed a little. "I'd be better if we didn't have to work the day before Christmas Eve since I still need to wrap all of Jack's presents still."

"Oh how is Jack!"

"He's doing well. finally starting to enjoy reading, no thanks to you."

You laughed at his joke, all the while Derek and Garcia just shared an incredulous look. How the hell did you know Hotch? Jack?!? Why does Jack's reading habits connect to you--

"Ready sweetheart?" Spencer appeared at your side and you nodded. "It was lovely to see you Aaron. I'll stop by some time tomorrow to drop off Jack's gifts as well as yours. I got it when Spence I and went to Paris last month. I think you'll enjoy it!"

"That's why you weren't here for two weeks?" Penelope's jaw was on the floor. "I didn't take you to be a Parisian man Doctor Reid."

"W-Well, um--"

"It was for my birthday. My choice. I love art and museums so it made sense. Well, it was lovely to meet you all but we have a reservation to get to." You gave them all a quick smile before taking Spencer's hand and walking towards the elevator, your shoes clicking on the floor with every step you took.

"How long have the two of them been together?" Morgan turned to Hotch after you both had gotten in the elevator.

"I think today is their two year anniversary."

"TWO YEARS." Garcia clutched her hypothetical pearls. "How have I not known? How have WE not known?"

"He's private, and...well. You know Y/n."

"No we clearly do not know Hotch."

Hotch gave them a little smirk and a shrug. "Merry Christmas guys. I'll see you on the twenty-seventh."

As Hotch walked away, Garcia and Morgan just stared at one another. "So we're..."

"Going to spend then next ten minutes in my office finding everything out about this mystery person Spencer has been apparently dating for two years?"

"You read my mind mama. A little Christmas snooping never hurt anyone..."

Send Me An Angel (Dr Jack Abbot x NurseWife!OFC)

Summary: The darkness didn't just go away because he was home, especially after a night like that, but it did start to feel a little less heavy. Eventually.

TW: 18+ content, canon typical content warnings apply, mentions of suicide and characters making light of suicide because that just how they deal, some smut, established relationship, age gap but barely mentioned (yet) , dark thoughts, angst, some fluff, nobody you love dies ... barely proofread or edited. Y'all I came out of fanfic retirement for this grumpy asshole because I love him (and Robby) so be gentle

~~~~~~~~

7:40am

Jack opened the door between the house and garage and immediately smelled breakfast cooking. He dropped his backpack by the washer and dryer and stripped his shirt off over his head. "Babe!" He dug through his bag for his scrub top and kicked out of his shoes. "I'm home!" He pulled his ID badge off his pocket, slipped his silicone wedding band back on, then took out his extra pen light, three pens he didn't remember taking and the knife out of his other poket before he dropped his pants, pulled off his socks and shoved the whole pile into the hamper labeled 'work' before he picked up his bag and headed inside.

"Clean up and come eat!" She called back from the kitchen.

"Yes ma'am!" He walked down the short hall and ducked through a door to the master bedroom. He dumped his bag on the floor by the closet and went straight for the shower where he spun the knob as hot as it would go. By the time he stepped out of his boxer briefs and stared at himself in the mirror for a minute steam was rolling over the doors.

The water burned but he didn't touch the knob. For a long moment he didn't move, just let the water run over his head while he held his breath as long as he could. Once his head began to swim, his pulse pounding in his ears and his chest tight he stepped back and took a deep breath. The darkness didn't just go away because he was home, especially after a night like that, but it did start to feel a little less heavy. Eventually.

Once he scrubbed himself clean he put on a pair of sweats and a shirt to head out to the kitchen, which smelled like biscuits and homemade gravy. Sam was in front of the stove barefoot, in a pair of what must have been very short, shorts hiding under a baggy ARMY t-shirt he was pretty sure was his. She must have actually got off work on time.

He walked up behind her to wrap his arms around her, "Hey baby" Jack kissed the side of her neck and buried his face in her still damp hair so be could breathe in the smell of her eucalyptus shampoo and antibactial soap.

Her response was cut and dry as she stirred the contents of the pan, "Robby called."

"God damn it" He dropped his forehead down to her shoulder.

"Don't be mad, he's your best friend."

"Not right now he's not." Jack looked up and turned to lean his temple against the back of her head.

"You realize if you deep throat your pistol or yeet yourself off a building I don't get your benefits right?" She still hadn't looked at him.

"Yeet?"

She scoffed, "Avoidance. Nice. Yes, yeet, just a friendly reminder that I am, technically, younger than you and I could remarry if I had to."

He stroked over her ribcage, the material of the shirt well worn and smooth against the rough pad of his thumb. He kissed the crown of her head, "Do it for the money this time."

His wife leaned back into him with an annoyed sigh, "Please don't make me get married again, Jack."

After a long, deep breath Jack pressed another kiss to the back of her head, "I won't." A kiss to the side of her neck, longer and lingering this time. "You're makin' biscuits and gravy."

Finally, she turned around to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck, "Thought it might make you feel a little better." On her tip toes she pressed her lips to his once, and then a second time.

Jack hummed appreciatively as he kissed her back. He let his grip loosen on her enough to slide his hands down over her waist and her hips. He coaxed another, longer kiss from her as he moved to slip his hands under her shirt. He pulled up abruptly and groaned into her mouth as he touched bare skin. "You're not wearin' anything under here."

With a smile she nipped at his bottom lip, "Thought it might make you feel a little better."

With something between a chuckle and a groan he pressed his forehead down into hers. He kissed her again, with more intent this time, as he reached over to turn the stove burner off with one hand. He made her giggle as he picked her up by the waist and set her on the counter. His voice was quiet, rough as he spoke, "You're the only thing that could."

Sam let out a long, shaky breath as she pulled him closer and kissed him harder. "Don't ever leave me Jack, not like that."

His only answer was to nod and claim her mouth with his once more and drag her hips tight to his own.

"Promise me." She mumbled against his lips, her fingers tugging at the waisband of his sweats.

"Promise." He moved his kisses to the soft spot at the hinge of her jaw, and then lower, down her neck to her clavicle. When he felt her tremble slightly he smoothed his hands up her thighs and then moaned into the side of her neck as she wrapped her fingers around his cock. The fingers of her other hand were buried in the curls at the back of his neck and for a split second he couldn't imagine a life, or lack there of, without this in it, without her in it.

"Jack…" Sam's voice was breathy as she tugged at those curls, drawing him back to the present moment.

He moved back to kiss her, "I'm right here baby," Jack swept his tongue through her mouth and tugged her impossibly closer, "I'm right here." His hand pulled hers away from him, even that brief touch, the couple of minutes he'd had her in his arms, and he was already hard as a rock. As her hands moved to tug and pull at his tshirt he actually cracked a smirk, just a twitch of his lips as more of the darkness slipped away. Jack did as she wanted and stripped his shirt off before he went back to shove his sweats down just low enough to pull himself free. "Ready?" He asked the question with his lips against her ear and she shivered and nodded into his shoulder.

All the years they'd been together, the thousands of times they'd fucked, made love, fooled around, and every fucking time he slid his cock home it knocked the fucking air out of his chest. Her pussy was tight, hot and wet, already quivering around him and he finally felt alive again. Sam wrapped her legs around him tight, locked him in place and he grinned.

"God you feel so good, always feels so good." Her words snapped him out of his head again and sent a jolt straight to the base of his spine.

Suddenly alive, happy even, Jack reached to take her face in his hands and tip her up to look at him as he began to move. One slow thrust after another he kept his brown eyes locked on hers so bright and sunny, even after hearing her husband had been standing on the edge of a roof less than an hour ago. She didn't look away from him, not until his hips were snapping into hers hard enough for her eyes to roll back in there head. Her mouth open, filthy sounds falling from her lips as her fingers clutched at his forearms. "Look at me."

Her eyes flew open, bright but unfocused, and she held his gaze once again.

"Good girl," He let her see him smile this time, really smiled for the first time since he got home, and then he kissed her. Deep and sloppy and he hoped it showed her he was okay. Her legs tightened around his hips and her hands began to scramble over his arms, shoulders, his back. Still with that same smile he fucked her harder, dropped one hand down to the small of her back to hold her tight. "Go ahead, go ahead baby. I'm right here, I'm right here." The position pressed her against him just right and the sensation of her clit rubbing against him and the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot deep in side her made her gasp.

"Oh shi…God, Jack, shit!" and then every muscle in her long, lean little body seized tight and her nails dug into the back of his neck. The little bit of pain and the sensation of her falling apart around him dragged him over the edge. That falling sensation he had craved with every bone in his body finally coming to a realization. Except at the bottom of this fall, the cold hard ground was replaced by the feel of his wife's lips against his neck, her fingers twisting and toying with his curls still damp from the shower, and her happy little moan as her body relaxed against him.

He couldn't look at her just yet, so he pressed his face to the crown of her head and breathed her in as he wrapped her up tight. He couldn't pull away from her, not yet, and he hummed appreciatively as he felt her arms and legs wrap tighter around him. Jack didn't really think about how long they had stayed there, his dick going soft inside her, the mess they made. Eventually he sniffed and breathed in deep and whispered, "I love you."

Samantha, the love of his life, smiled against his neck and pressed a kiss against his slowing pulse, "Love you too."

The ding of the oven timer startled them both and after a second they broke into soft chuckles. Jack stood up straight and dropped his head back between his shoulder blades, the darkness gone, grumbling as Sam's teeth nipped over his corotid. "Biscuits are gonna burn if you don't let me go."

He grumbled again, face back in it's normal scowl, "Only 'cause I'm starving." He bent down to kiss her a final time before he finally, slowly, stepped away from her. One hand still on her thigh as he reached for a paper towel to clean up the mess they'd made so they could eat breakfast and go to bed.

5:43pm

When he woke up later that afternoon Samantha was still sound asleep beside him, her back to him, bare because they'd gone to bed after breakfast and made love, softer a slower than in the kitchen that morning. He turned onto his back to look at the alarm clock. He could go ahead and get up.

"Go back to sleep." Her voice was soft and raspy, barely awake, like she was trying to fight it.

Jack smirked to himself as he twisted back to kiss the back of her head before he slipped out of bed for the bathroom. He'd never slept well, even before the Army, before Afghanistan and Iraq, even before med school or the switch to nightshifts. On his way back from taking a leak he stopped by the dresser and flipped the switch on the scanner. He'd go back to bed, because she was there, but he doubted he'd sleep. He would have to get up soon anyway. At first there was silence, then the radio chatter picked up.

Back in bed his wife grumbled and pulled the blanket up tighter as she turned towards him. "Sleep okay?"

Jack stretched, arms over his head, and grimaced as his bad shoulder popped, "Slept fine." He laid one arm out and she immediately moved to his side and tucked herself in, twisting her head so she could press a kiss to the scar under his clavicle. "Close your eyes," He pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Go back to sleep." She didn't have to work tonight and he didn't want to ruin her night off. His own eyes slipped closed as he stroked his fingers up and down her arm. He focused on each of her breaths as they ghosted over his chest while he listened to the static and clicks as mics were keyed on and off, officers called in traffic stops, dispatch relayed reports from callers.

When he'd come back from his last deployment and they were finally able to live together longer than a few months at a time, Jack had been shocked how quiet everything was. Even in base housing, there was silence. Sam told him him he'd acclimate, he'd get used to it. She said she listened to podcasts, audiobooks, something to drown out the silence. No jets or C130s screaming ovehead and howling on the tarmac, no chop from blackhawks or chinooks at all hours of the night, no yelling, fighting or roughhousing on the other side of plywood walls.

He hadn't acclimated.

Audiobooks didn't help, he'd lay awake all night because he needed to know how it ended. Podcasts just annoyed him, even the true crime ones she seemed to favor and somehow was able to fall asleep to within the first ten minutes. It wasn't until they'd moved off base that she'd thought of it while they unpacked the den. Sam had pulled out the radio and charging dock, the one they had 'just in case', turning the knob to see if it still worked and it had. So, they'd listened as they unpacked. "Maybe this would help you sleep." She'd been right.

For a moment, with the radio chatter, the blackout curtains and her pressed close against him he thought he might fall back asleep.

A series of chirps followed by long, highpitched tone sounded through the room followed by, "Shots fired, shots fired! All units…" the unmistakable sounds of rifle rounds popped and crackled over the speaker, "Shots fired!" Screaming, distant and garbled. Louder pops, closer, the officers handgun as it rang out. He or a partner maybe as they returned fire. Bang, bang, pause, bang,bang, "We need units now, we have an active shooter at Pitt…" The thirty second emergency call cut short and then the radio chatter exploded with answering officers and dispatchers.

Jack had sat up straight, Sam did the same beside him. Together they listened. Sam combed one hand through her hair as they waited.

Pittfest.

"Jesus," Sam looked at her husband, "That'll go to you guys."

Jack was already out of bed and pulling on underwear, before Sam could finish her sentence.

Less than 10 minutes later Sam met him at the garage door wearing just a hoodie and holding a shaker bottle. "Take this." She shoved it at him as he grabbed his truck keys. "And call me. Anything, just call me."

Jack ignored the protein shake for the moment instead sinking his free hand into her mess of dirty blonde hair and pulling her into him for a kiss. When they finally pulled apart he looked her dead in the eyes. "I love you."

She didn't blink, didn't breath as she pressed a hand over the center of his chest, over his steady beating heart. "I love you."

Then he grabbed the protein shake, gave her one last kiss and climbed into his truck.

6:11pm

Jack wouldn't ever say it out loud, except maybe to Sam, but he lived for this. This, the blood, the gore, the fear and the chaos, the critical thinking all of it, this is what he'd been put to do. This was easy, this was routine. He felt alive.

"Where's Collins?"

"I need a chest tube!"

"How the hell are we out of chest tubes!"

"O pos! I need a bag of O pos over here!

"I need help with an airway!"

"Someone get me more O Neg!"

Robby appeared at his side as they worked together the slow the blood pouring out of an adomen. "Depot is running low."

Jack spared a quick glance around him, "Where are we on resupply?"

"Gloria says she's working on it."

"How long?"

Robby laughed in that self-deprecating way ER doctors specialize in, "Your guess is as good as mine. She says she's working on it."

"Fuck that." Jack mumbled as he stood up straight, "Bag him." He ripped his gloves off and dug his phone out of his pocket. God bless FirstNet, he had signal and when he hit send the call went through. "Yeah, I'm fine. Need a favor."

6:32pm

The Ambulance bay doors hissed open. Robby looked up, "Ohhh, you are the prettiest thing i've seen all day!"

Jack glanced to the side, "Back off Robinavitch, I saw her first."

Sam dodged gurneys as she approached. A duffle bag in each hand and a backpack. "I come bearing gifts!" She made a beeline for the nurses station and Dana.

"Sweetie, please tell me you didn't just pick the worst possible time for a visit?" Dana met her arms wide open.

The duffle bags dropped on the counter with a thud and Sam shrugged out of her backpack so she could return Dana's hug. "Courtesy of Pittsburg VA Medical Center." Sam unzipped one bag and then the other, "I've got chest tubes, I've got cath tubes, some of this tubing I'm not even sure what the fuck it's for, and as many bags and adapters as I could take. i've got CAT tourniquets, SOF turniquests, some surgical turniquets, hemostatic dressings, suture kits, a shit ton of gauze and tape. There's chest seals in that one and abdominal trauma kits if shit gets real western," She turned to Dana as she whipped her long ponytail up into a quick and well practiced bun, "and this," she dug in the pocket of her scrub pants and handed over a piece of paper, "Is a list of people ready and waiting to come if you need them."

For a second it looked like Dana might cry as she glanced down at the list of names and phone numbers written in all different handwriting, mismatched inks, marker, pencil. It looked like they'd all used whatever they had handy at the time. She looked up at Sam and smiled, "You're an angel. Have I told you lately that I love you?" She wrapped her up in another hug.

"Yes, but it never gets old." Sam squeezed her back. "Now, I slammed a Monster on the way here so put me to work."

Dana smiled, "Put those in behavioral, that's supply, then gown up and pick a body." she paused, "i'm glad you're here."

On her way by her husband he called out to Dana, "Tap her, she's O-Neg!"

Sam gave him a look, "What, am I just a blood bank to you?" She gave Robby a wink as she passed him.

Jack called after her, "Love you."

"You better!"

Jack and Robby exchanged a look over a patient, "She's still pissed about this morning. Thanks for that by the way."

"What are best friends for?"

With a scoff Jack stood up, "This one can go up. Bring me another red!" then turned back to Robby, "I don't have a best friend."

Robby laughed and got back to work.

Jack took a deep breath, stole a glance at his wife already helping Samira place an airway on a gunshot victim, and nodded to himself. He remembered why now. He remembered why he kept coming back. For the time being anyway.

3:58 am

The only reason Jack didn't jump, flinch or even move when he felt a hand rest on the back of his head was because he'd recognize that touch anywhere. He groaned, but did not look up from where he sat with his elbows braced on his knees and his head hanging low. Her fingers carded through his curls and she scratched her nails over his scalp in the way that he loved so fucking much. Blindly, with one hand, he grabbed the back of her knee and tugged her closer so he could rest his forehead against her stomach.

Long minutes passed while she played with his hair and he didn't realize the death grip he still had on the back of her leg until his fingers began to cramp. Jack relaxed his hold on her, but didn't let her go. DIdn't want to risk her stopping or stepping away.

"You want some of my coffee?" Her voice was so gentle, but loud in the darkness.

His gaze fell on her shoes, smeared with blood. He sat up straighter, tipped his head back to look at her. "Sure."

She handed him the cup of shitty, hospital coffee and he sipped it. Black. She must be exhausted.

"Hey," she moved her hand down to the back of his neck but continued to scratch her nails over his skin. When he met her gaze, she gave him a soft smile, "Think you should go check on Robby."

He took another sip of her coffee and rubbed his hand up and down the back ofher thigh, trying to ignore the feel of the dried, caked blood, "Where is he?"

Her pretty green eyes blinked and she nodded, fighting back tears. "GIve you one guess."

~The End ~

Hope y'all enjoyed. I love these two and have some back story that might see daylight soon so keep an eye out for that.

Also, if you saw the poll I posted yesterday you'll know that I have a second story idea that I'm working on that more focused on Jack and Robby and their not friends friendship, Sam Abbot features heavily in that one and spoiler, she has a cute nurse friend (reader) that she wants to set Robby up with!

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: you have a one night stand with an extremely attractive older man, but it doesn’t seem like you’ll see him again. fate has other plans, it seems.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23) unexpected pregnancy, light smut, reader and jack have both been drinking but are very eager/consent is definitely there.

notes: i am still working on former stripper!reader, but this came to me and i had to get it out. i think this will be a series of smaller drabbles, instead of a full one shot, but idk, what do you guys think/prefer? unedited. any feedback is extremely appreciated, especially reblogs/asks!

wc: 1.3k

next

You meet Jack Abbot in a dark bar on a Thursday. You, drug out by your friends, begging you to just let loose for once. Him, alone, on his last night off for the week, mentally preparing to go back to work the next day.

You caught his eye from across the room, and feeling brave, and of course egged on by your friends, you make your way over to him.

The first thing he does is ask you how old you are, to which you give a cheeky response of old enough. At the unamused look you receive, you tell him you’re twenty-three.

Jack nearly choked on his drink at that, and nearly tells you that you’re too young for him. But the pretty and cheeky smile you give him makes a small smirk appear on his face, so he doesn’t.

The second thing he does is order you a sweet fruity drink and a double shot of whiskey for himself.

One round turns into two which turns into three. You laugh a lot, and he laughs at your laugh. Jack tells you briefly about his time in the army, and in turn you tell him about your evil boss that you just know is out to get you.

I’m an ED doctor, he mumbles in your ear after you ask what he does for work

An eating disorder doctor? He snorts at your question.

“No, emergency department, like an ER,” You blush as he laughs at you, nearly choking as he downs the rest of his whiskey in one go.

You don’t even realize that you had effectively abandoned your friends and had been talking to Jack the entire night until one of them comes to ask if you’re ready to go.

You look at Jack, sheepish smile on your face and a glint in your eyes.

You end up at his place, his mouth on yours and calloused hands pawing greedily at your tits under your shirt before he even gets the door closed.

“Your skin is so soft,” He mumbles as he leaves open mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to your neck and back up again.

You moan, “I like the way your hands feel on my skin,”

Your hands tangle in his hair as you force his mouth back on yours, teeth clashing as his tongue fights yours for dominance, ultimately winning when you distract yourself trying to get his shirt off of him.

As quickly as his shirt comes off, he has you topless, your shirt and bra tossed somewhere in his living room.

The rest of the night is a blur, but you know he fucked you in some way, shape, or form on nearly every surface of his home, from eating you out on the couch, to fingering you until you managed to squirt all over his countertops as he made you drink water to stay hydrated, to fucking you dumb on his cock in at least six different positions on his bed, and once more pressed against the shower wall before putting his shirt on you and holding your body pressed up against his body while you slept the entire night.

The next morning the two of you chatted over breakfast. No awkwardness, he goes out of his way to make you laugh over his disgusting coffee, as so affectionately deemed it.

He doesn’t ask for your number, so you don’t ask for his. You kiss the side of his mouth as you leave him.

Jack goes to work, business as usual, but he thinks about you every day for the next eight weeks. Wondering if your boss ever let up on you or if you tried that new Italian place you were wanting to eat at.

You spend the next eight weeks stressed beyond belief. Work eating at your soul and consuming your entire life. You do think about Jack almost every day, contemplating going back to that bar just to see if he’s there.

But you don’t ever get the time, and your next meeting is an unexpected one to say the least.

Slipping on the wet floor in a grocery store was embarrassing, but hitting your head on the way down was mortifying. You were going to have to find a new grocery store.

The situation just keeps getting worse as the paramedics show up, telling you they have to take you to the emergency room since you show signs of a concussion and your nose is bleeding.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Mohan. I hear you took a bit of a fall?” The doctor is pretty, and her smile seems genuine as she talks to you.

“Uh, you could say that. This all could’ve been avoided if they had a wet floor sign out at the grocery store, though,”

She laughs, “You would be surprised how often we see that here,”

She starts going through the usual string of questions you get at the ED. You answer them all until she gets to the last one, “And when was the date of your last period?”

All of a sudden, your mind is blank. Surely you’ve had it, right? You had to have.

“I-I guess I don’t remember,” It comes out a whisper, and your brow is furrowed as you try and try to remember. You know you had it.

Dr. Mohan senses your inner turmoil, “No worries, we can do a blood test,”

She takes your blood and tells you she’s going to go order a CT for your head, “just sit tight.” With a mind smile, she’s gone.

You sit there, trying to rack your brain. There is no way you’re pregnant. No fucking way.

It takes what feels like an hour for Dr. Mohan to come back, ultrasound machine in tow, “So, I have your test results, and it does appear that you are pregnant. We’ll have to do an ultrasound to confirm how far along you are, but after that we should be able to get you to CT,”

“What the fuck.” Is all you can manage, eyes wide as you look at her, “Are you, like, certain?”

She places a hand on your own, squeezing in a comforting manner, “The ultrasound will be to confirm, but blood tests are rarely wrong,”

She gets you situated and pulls the gown up so she can rub the probe over your abdomen, “I am hopeful we won’t have to do this vaginally,”

She quickly places the cold jelly on your abdomen and runs the probe over it, trying to find a fucking baby. You feel like you might throw up.

“And there they are,” There’s a smile on her face and she shows you.

“Oh my god,” You think you’re in shock “I think I’m gonna throw up,”

“Oh!” She quickly steps into action, grabbing a bucket and rubbing your back while you vomit.

“I think this is the worst day of my life,” She gives your shoulder a squeeze.

“The vomiting could be due to the fall you took,” She bites her lip, “CT is pretty backed up, let me go get my attending to see if he can take a look and find something that can get you moved up the list. I’ll be right back,”

She quickly walks out, and you feel tears building quickly in your eyes. How the fuck could you let this happen?

And now, you’ll have to awkwardly face Jack and tell him your passionate night has resulted in this situation.

He didn’t even ask for your number for crying out loud.

Your downward spiral is interrupted when Dr. Mohan returns, with the last person you wanted to see right now.

“This is my attending, Dr. Abbot.” She gestures to him. “Dr. Abbot, I have a twenty-three year old female, approximately eight weeks pregnant with a possible concussion,”

You don’t hear another word that passes her lips, eyes glued to him, and he looks just as shocked and horrified as you feel.

We Can't be Friends - Spencer Reid (smut)

Since y'all loved my other mother's best friend fic so much, I wanted to write another. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: JJ's daughter, the reader, has joined the BAU a while ago. She and Spencer have been fooling around ever since, even though both know they can't be more than just friends and yet even at being friends, they fail. At least until an incident finally lets the others in on their love.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (f), age gap, blood, reader is shot (she survives ofc), mother's best friend, stupid lovers, hidden relationship

Pairing: Spencer Reid x JJ's!daughter!reader (3.2k words)

The gasp rumbling through (y/n) echoed through the room, loud enough to draw a gritty laugh from Spencer. The tall man towered over her, hands cupping her cheeks as their lips moved in sync. No words were spoken as he guided her towards the hotel bed, pushing her down to shuffle out of his clothes, all while (y/n) hastily undressed herself. 

“We don’t have much time, Spence.” (Y/n) mumbled against his lips, naked body searching his like they had done numerous times before. It was a dangerous game they were playing, (y/n) had joined the BAU only a few months ago, always followed by her mother’s watchful eyes. Too many fights had happened between (y/n) and her mother, JJ, since she had joined the team, making the young woman feel as if her mother wasn’t trusting her – rightfully so, and yet neither (y/n) nor Spencer dared to let others in on their back and forth. Nothing but friends – a lie both kept on telling themselves.

“Then we better make the most of it.” His lips kissed their way down her naked body, eyes flickering up to (y/n)’s, watching her with mischief swimming in his pupils. It was scandalous almost, her mother’s best friend, the one who had watched her grow up for years, was now the man whose closeness she searched at any given chance, drawn to him like ancient lovers fulfilling their prophecy. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked, baby.” Spencer’s thin fingers brushed through her slit, spreading her arousal on her pulsing bundle with a smirk widening on his lips. Wordlessly, she tugged on his brown curls, begging him to finally fuck her after a day filled with chases, with clues they had tried to follow and a killer still on the loose. 

“Spencer,” (y/n) choked on his name as he pushed two fingers into her cunt, spreading her walls like he had done just yesterday evening. They were desperate for any and every moment together, hidden away in empty rooms, broom closets, or their hotel rooms while the others were out and about. “Fuck me, I need you inside of me.”

“You know how to ask nicely for it, be a good girl, (y/n).” His condescending tone left her groaning, eyes fluttering close as he curled his fingers against her g-spot. It took her a few seconds, with shaky exhales and trembling fingers clinging to his locks, to finally speak up.

“Please, Spencer, I need you inside of me, I need you to fuck me. I’m yours, forever yours.” The growl ripping through him at her words left (y/n) grinning in success, a grin that was wiped off her lips the second he forcefully pushed into her, letting his cock spread her fluttering walls. For a second, both held still, needing to adjust to one another, to the intense sensation ripping through them like a tsunami, about to drown them in the waves of lust. 

“You’re still so fucking tight for me, I’ll never get tired of fucking you.” Her walls clenched around him at his words, struggling to put her feelings into words. All (y/n) could do was cling to him, claw her fingernails into his skin as he fucked her into the mattress, the hotel bed she shared with her mother. 

(Y/n) couldn’t keep her moans bottled in, unable to stop her sinful sounds from clawing through her as Spencer fucked her into oblivion. Both were stuck in their trance, solemnly focused on one another, all until his phone began to ring. Her eyes shot open, watching Spencer reach for his phone while he kept fucking her. 

They held eye contact as he answered the call, forcing (y/n) to keep quiet. Her moans were swallowed by the hand he pressed to her mouth, struggling to focus on the words Spencer spoke, telling whoever had called him that they’d be at the station soon. 

“That was your mom,” his grin kept widening as Spencer stared down at (y/n), taking in the fucked out expression she couldn’t shake, unable to speak any longer. “They found another lead, we gotta be quick, baby. I need you to cum for me.”

Spencer’s fingers found her clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle to push her over the edge. (Y/n) came within a handful of moments, calling out his name as he fucked her through her high. It was pathetic almost how much power he held over her, how much love she fostered for Spencer – a love that could never be. 

He followed her seconds later, pulling out of her to relieve himself on her stomach, painting her skin with his cum. Both were panting, unable to hold back their laughter as Spencer pressed another kiss to her swollen lips before he rose to his feet, “We better hurry before your mom picks us up herself.” 

……

“I don’t want you on this, (y/n), stay back and wait for my call.” JJ’s voice echoed through the small office, bright eyes staring at her daughter. The team kept watching their interaction, too focused on the both of them to pick up on the uneasiness radiating off Spencer. 

“Stop treating me as if I am not part of this team. It’s my job to chase this man as much as it is yours.” The spite dripping from (y/n)’s words left the others cringing, trying to keep themselves from interfering as (y/n) turned towards Aaron. “Will I be able to join, Hotch?”

She watched the man’s dark eyes flicker from her features to her mother’s, silently studying the two for a few seconds before he cleared his throat, “You will, but I need you to stay close to me, you haven’t had enough field experience yet.” 

JJ was out of the room within moments, followed by all others – all besides (y/n), Aaron, and Spencer. An almost uncomfortable silence wrapped itself around the three, knowing that there was something else the Unit Chief needed to communicate, a conversation (y/n) desperately wanted to flee from. 

“I hope the two of you know what you’re doing. The others haven’t picked up on it yet, but it won’t take long for JJ to figure this out. As your boss, I need to warn you of the chaos this will bring to the team. And as your friend, I beg you to figure this out before I am asked to pick sides.” Aaron left the two without waiting for their reply, forcing heat to flare up in (y/n)’s system, and confusion in Spencer’s. 

“Come, we’ve got a job to finish.” (Y/n) turned from Spencer as she spoke the words, following Aaron out of the station and towards the black SUV he was driving. No further word was spoken between the three as they drove towards their destination, the house that had been surveilled the past days. The others had arrived moments ago, wearing their vests, clinging to their guns with their eyes focused on the house. 

“Is he alone?” Aaron’s voice rang in (y/n)’s ears, she stayed glued to his side, the man who had always been like a father to her, more than her mother’s husband, Will, could ever be. Aaron was the one she trusted more than she trusted herself, the one she’d ask for guidance, the one who’d hold her when everything began to close in on her. The one she’d always fight for. 

“Seems like it is. How do you want to do this?” (Y/n) tried to catch her mother’s gaze as Derek and Aaron spoke, but the blonde-haired woman kept staring ahead, seemingly still fuelled by her anger. (Y/n) and JJ never had a close relationship, just enough to make it through their day-to-day without any big mishaps. But the second (y/n) had joined the BAU, her mother had turned into an overprotective form of herself (y/n) wasn’t used to, not understanding where JJ’s concern suddenly came from. Perhaps this had also been one of the reasons why she hadn’t felt any guilt the first time she had shared a kiss with her mother’s best friend, Spencer, not tied together by any strong mother-daughter bond. 

“(Y/n), Reid, you’re with me. JJ, Prentiss, you take the back with Morgan and Rossi.” Everything began to blur by, and within seconds (y/n) found herself following Aaron and Spencer into the house, checking every room. And then she saw him, their unsub, the man who had kidnapped three girls for his sick pleasure. 

The man had his gun trained on them, telling (y/n) that he was ready to shoot, aiming at Spencer who hadn’t seen him yet. It was a natural reaction of her body, throwing herself in front of the man who held her heart in his hands, oblivious to the depth of her feelings. And the next second, his bullet pierced her collarbone, the spot that hadn’t been protected by her vest. 

Shots echoed through the air, sounds that rang in her ears as (y/n) sank to the ground. Blood poured from her wound all too heavily, an amount of blood her eyes hadn’t ever taken in before. (Y/n)’s vision grew blurry, she heard her name being called, and could feel somebody cradling her hand in theirs, but within moments she passed out. 

“(Y/n)? We need a medic! Please!” Spencer’s panicked voice filled the house, instantly guiding JJ towards them. His glassy eyes found her wide ones, watching his best friend sink to the ground next to her passed out daughter.

“What happened?” It was just a whisper, a whisper that was almost drowned out by the sound of nearing sirens, telling them that help was close. 

“She pushed herself in front of me, she took the bullet for me.” Spencer kept rambling away, telling JJ what had happened, how he hadn’t seen the man Aaron had instantly killed after (y/n) had been shot. Words that kept leaving him like a waterfall cascading down his chin, only stopping himself from speaking a further word as JJ reached for his blood-covered hand, tightly squeezing it.

(Y/n)’d be alright, she had to be.

……

“Fuck,” (y/n) woke with a curse. She had to blink a few times to adjust to her surroundings, the bright light she was engulfed in, trying not to gag at the sterile scent crawling up her nostrils. The first person she focused on was her mother, sleeping on a chair close to her bed. (Y/n) allowed herself to study JJ for a moment before her eyes found the person sitting on the other side of the bed, Spencer.

“Hi,” he whispered the word as he squeezed the hand he was holding with his. Without letting go of her, he reached for a glass of water, helping (y/n) drink a few sips to find her voice. 

“How long was I out for?” She tried to keep quiet, not daring to interrupt her moment with Spencer just yet. Tiredness clung to his features, telling her that they must have been here for a while, waiting for her to wake as her body tried to regain its strength. 

“Almost two days. They had to repair your collarbone, but everything went as planned, you’ll be good to leave in no time.” Both their eyes snapped towards JJ, who watched the two with something swimming in her pupils (y/n)’s tired self couldn’t pinpoint. (Y/n) expected Spencer to hastily pull his hand away as JJ spoke, but he kept holding onto her, not loosening his grip on her. 

“Good, I’ll have to apologise to Aaron for the extra paperwork, huh?” She had expected her mother to smile at her, to speak some kind of soothing words. But all JJ did was stare at her and Spencer – instantly telling (y/n) that her mother knew about what was going on between them. 

“You won’t return to the BAU, (y/n).” She froze in the bed, wide eyes staring at her mother as JJ kept speaking. “Not only did you risk yourself, but you also have been too reckless, and reckless behaviour is unacceptable. I am sure you knew that before you began this relationship or whatever it is between you and Spencer. I am disappointed in you, (y/n). We raised you better than that.”

“Better than what, mother?” (Y/n) didn’t allow her pain to stop her from speaking, fuelled by her anger and her exhaustion. “You should be grateful I found a man like Spencer to love, a man you’ve always trusted more than anybody else. You know he’ll be good to me. And you also know I am a worthy asset to this team. I won’t leave the BAU because you can’t get over whatever it is you’re struggling with.” 

“We’ll speak once you’re back home.” JJ was out of the room within seconds, leaving (y/n) and Spencer behind, wrapped up in the sounds of beeping machines and the voices of nurses and doctors hallowing down the hallway.

……

“Do you need anything else?” Concern dripped from Spencer’s voice. He was standing near her bed, weary eyes following (y/n)’s every movement. He had temporarily moved into her apartment the past few days, not daring to let her out of his eyes once – while skillfully avoiding the talk both desperately needed to have. 

“Mhm,” (y/n)’s eyes wandered over his tired features, the face she’d seen in her dreams, the lips she hadn’t kissed in days, the curls she hadn’t been allowed to tug on for way too long. “Come here, Spence.”

“I should check on the food.” He tried to turn from her, tried to leave the room with hasty steps, but the sharp call of his name forced Spencer to freeze in his movements. Slowly, he turned back towards (y/n), eyes filled with the plea to avoid this topic for a tad bit longer, at least till he’d find a way to escape should they spiral into a fight neither of them could rip themselves out of. 

“I’m tired of this, Spence. We knew from the beginning that this wouldn’t be easy should my mother realise what's going on. But I didn’t think you’d drop whatever this is between us just like that.” She stared up at him, gaze torn between anger and hurt, and yet she couldn’t shake the love she felt for Spencer, a love that ran deeper than any laws, any promises. “If you don’t want to be with me, I need you to leave. I appreciate you trying to take care of me, but I’d rather do that on my own if you keep treating me with this distance between us. You don’t have to work off any debt just because I took the shot.” 

“Is that what you think I’m doing here? Work off a debt?” No longer did his voice tremble, no longer were Spencer's eyes weary and uneasy, but rather filled with a determination she had tried to coax out of him for days. Spencer took a step closer, and another until he sat down near her. The hairs on her arms rose, fuelled by the excitement his closeness always managed to push through her. “This is nothing but torture for me, (y/n). I can’t touch you, whenever my hand finds yours I am reminded of that moment, I thought you were about to die in my arms, and it’d forever be my fault. I can’t concentrate whenever I’m near you, but I can’t breathe whenever you’re away from me. Your mother is my best friend and I curse myself for going behind her back like that, with her own daughter. But as selfish as that may be, I can’t let you go. I don’t know what to do.” 

Her lips found his before Spencer could move away, drawing a groan out of him. Their tongues met with excitement urging them on, but the spell was broken the second a pained gasp left her, forcing Spencer’s mouth away from hers instantly. His hand cupped her warm cheek as she tried to chase his lips, unable to stop her annoyed huff from clawing through her, “You haven’t touched me in days, Spence. Please.”

Spencer studied her for a few more seconds before a small grin tugged on his lips. Once again he kissed her, softer this time – almost teasingly, “Lay back down for me, baby.” 

She watched his every move with curiosity swimming in her twinkling pupils, following his frame as he settled between her legs, as he pressed his lips to her naked legs, wearing nothing but her panties and a shirt of his. Just from the way Spencer was touching her, (y/n) could tell that he wouldn’t fuck her, not tonight, but he seemed to ache for her just as much, kissing his way up to her already damp panties. 

“It’s been torture for me, I fucked my hand in the shower every evening to the thought of you.” His husky voice left her gasping, while her mind imagined Spencer fucking his hand, just a few metres away from her bed, hidden in the shower while she patiently waited for his return. No word managed to leave (y/n), too focused on his touch and the way her body trembled at his words – unable to come up with any teasing words. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already dripping for me. Such a desperate girl for me, aren’t you, baby?”

“Spencer, please.” They held eye contact as he pushed her panties aside with his slender fingers, making enough room for his tongue to brush along her folds, groaning at her taste. Her heart was racing, pounding in her chest as if they were hunting an unsub, racing through streets to catch up with those running from them. But as much as (y/n) loved the high of a chase, this was so much better, a touch that left her burning, buzzing through her like a wildfire spreading all too quickly. 

Spencer’s eyes were filled with a longing that left (y/n) breathless, unable to stop her moans from clawing through her. Two of his fingers dipped into her tightness, perfectly filling her, without stopping his tongue from moving. He brushed the strong muscle against her pulsing bundle, feeling her shudder beneath him  – already close to the edge. 

Her trembling fingers tugged on his curls, drawing a breathy moan out of Spencer as he curled his fingers. Spencer couldn’t rip his eyes off her pleasure-drunken features as she came, head thrown back, lips parted. It was a sight he’d never forget, willingly remembering it with every rising of the sun as if she was his own deity to pray to. 

“I love you, Spencer.” (Y/n) choked on the words, gasping in surprise as he hastily moved up her body to kiss her breathless once again. 

“I love you too.” His words left her grinning, relaxing back against the mattress as he laid down next to her, letting his eyes wander over her gorgeous features. “JJ will understand, it may take some time, but I won’t give you up, (y/n), I never will.”

SOA MASTERLIST!

In this list you´ll find all my stories. I'm currently working on four stories [you can find more on Wattpad], all of them Sons of Anarchy fanfictions called SKIN AND BONES, SUMMER NIGHTS, GONE WITH THE SIN and A LITTLE LOST. English is not my main language! So please, if you see any mistakes that bother you, just let me know. I'm not a proffesional author so my stories are far from perfect. I do this because it's fun and relaxing and because I love writing. You can also find my stories on Wattpad under the same username, there are a lot more fanfics of mine online than on here.

Disclaimer for SKIN AND BONES, SUMMER NIGHTS, GONE WITH THE SIN and A LITTLE LOST; I don't own any of the SOA characters nor the original storyline. All the rights go to Kurt Sutter and the other producers of the show. I do, however, own my original characters and the added storylines I come up with.

Warning⚠️; 18+ only! All stories will have mature content in it, which means that there will be detailed sexual content, violence, blood and gore, domestic violence, sensitive topics, mental health issues etc. If any of these topics will be mentioned or written out in detail, there will be an extra trigger warning in this particular chapter.

SKIN AND BONES

Happy Lowman x fem! oc

ALL CHAPTERS HERE!

A LITTLE LOST

Happy Lowman x fem!oc

ALL CHAPTERS HERE!

SUMMER NIGHTS

Happy Lowman x fem!oc

ALL CHAPTERS HERE!

GONE WITH THE SIN

Happy Lowman x fem!oc

ALL CHAPTERS HERE!

TRAIN WRECK

Happy Lowman x fem!oc

ALL CHAPTERS HERE!

BOULEVARD OF BROKEN DREAMS

Jax Teller x fem!oc

ALL CHAPTERS HERE!

SOA HALLOWEEN AND CHRISTMAS

Happy Lowman and Jax Teller One Shots

MASTERLIST HERE!

masterlist header and divider by; @saradika-graphics

Seeing Red | Masterlist

According to the Red Queen hypothesis, a species needs to evolve and adapt in order to survive because its competitors are doing the same.

Or how a young woman who wanted to be a lawyer ended up being a well-known naval aviator, hiding a big secret.

Please note that half of these 'texts' were written as sneak peeks of future events that are subject to changes in case the writer decides to explore a different path or idea. Thank you.

Chapters

Conversations from the past: Red - Jake

Conversations from the past: Red - Javy

Ch. 0.5: Off with his head

Dagger babes - 1 - 2

Jake - Red

Ch. 1: A war between us

Ch. 2: Used to it / Dagger babes - 3

Jake - Red

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Jake - Red

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Red - Jake