You're A Superhero | Jack Abbot X Reader

you're a superhero | jack abbot x reader

summary: part 2 to 'you're gonna be a dad, congrats'. snippets of reader's and jack's relationship, reader's pregnancy and birth

pairing: dr. jack abbot x f!resident!reader

tw: no use of y/n (still don't like her in this house), attending/resident relationship, age gap, pregnancy, talks of birth, birth, blood, medical inaccuracies (emergency med), medical accuracies (ob/gyn), whitaker (i love him your honor), twilight is mentioned. not proof read

wc: 10k

author's note: i loved loved loved writing this!! i hope i did the pregnancy and birth scenes justice, cause it's heavily inspired by my own clinical experience in the ob/gyn field (in eu tho)... nvm, i couldn't leave out the pregnancy and just write the birth. hope you like it! feedback is always appreciated and thanks for all the love on the previous fics!

gif not mine

You're A Superhero | Jack Abbot X Reader

you always knew that jack abbot was careful and protective. from the very start of your relationship, he always made sure you ate well after your shifts, slept well before them and everything in between. on the rare occasions that you found yourself on the same shift as him, he made sure to almost never leave your side, always ready to protect you from a patient or their family if they became aggressive. how you managed to keep the relationship secret through all this, was a mystery.

but now that you were pregnant, it became a little too much. at first jack wanted you to take leave immediately, to not put any pressure on yourself or your developing baby. you laughed it off, but then saw his serious face. you two argued almost the whole night about it.

“you cannot be serious jack,” you scoffed. it was early morning and you were preparing for yet another day shift. jack had a night off so it was a perfect opportunity for him to talk you out of going to work.

“i don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby,” he says and crosses his arms over his chest.

“anything can happen even if i’m at home. i could slip down the stairs and bang my head,” you say with disbelief, packing your stuff into a backpack.

“you’re right. i’m moving the bedroom downstairs. the second floor is off limits.”

you looked at him completely deadpan. but jack’s face did not move. at all. was he actually serious. he can’t be, can he?

“okay, you’re overreacting. and i’m not in the mood to fight, so now i’m gonna leave for work and when you decide to become rational again, we can have a conversation about this,” you say, lean over to give him a quick kiss, before you’re out the door and then the house.

you come in, saying hi to all the nurses that are gathering around central and quickly leave your things in your locker, before coming back so you don’t miss hand off. the night shift seemed to have gone by smoothly, only leaving you with a few patients that were waiting for a room upstairs. 

as you’re doing rounds with the night shift residents, your stomach starts acting up. the morning sickness was a bitch. sometimes you threw up before you came to work, sometimes she let you have a whole day without showing up and on some days, like right now, you had to excuse yourself in the middle of rounds only to run to the restroom and throw your guts up. luckily no one seemed to care enough to follow you or ask you afterwards, either too busy with leaving their shift or getting settled in for another 12 hours of the madness that the ER brought.

your shift started off strong. a mvc with four seriously injured patients. there was no time for you to be sick again. you listened for robby’s instructions as him, you, langdon and collins each took over one of the patients. whitaker, the year 4 med student, follows you to help you with the patient. the fact that he brought you the pregnancy tests was a real bonding moment for the both of you, and you decided you needed to keep an eye on him, so he wouldn’t just blab around about you being pregnant with jack’s baby. no one knew about your relationship still. the baby would be just another bomb and it was the last thing you needed right now.

you rolled the patient into the trauma bay with the help of the emt’s. you and whitaker started with your assessments. the patient’s had broken both his legs, caused by the impact when his car drove into the back of the other car. the legs got stuck under the dashboard and the bones just couldn’t withstand the pressure of the crash. 

just as you were assessing the patient for any hidden injuries, the door opened and robby stepped in, already putting on a fresh pair of gloves. 

“what do we have here?” he asks and the nurse helps him into the white protective gown.

“male, late twenties, driver of the second car. unconciouss, head lacs from hitting the wheel, his airbag didn’t open. have to rule out brain contusion. possible tib-fib fractures on both legs, won’t know exactly without an x-ray. the abdomen is bruised, from the impact with the steering wheel. already called surgery.”

whitaker takes the ultrasound probe and robby helps him examine the patient’s abdomen. 

“there you see,” robby points to the screen and you and whitaker take a look. the patient’s spleen has ruptured and is now bleeding heavily into the abdomen. just as you’re about to say something, the door to the bay opens again and dr. garcia steps in.

“what do you got for me?” she looks at you and puts on gloves. at first she lifts the cover on the patient’s leg to look at them. you then show her the ultrasound.

“spleen rupture.”

“send him up to surgery, through CT stat. i’ll have an OR waiting for him,” she says without hesitation and then promptly leaves the room to look at the other patients involved in the car crash.

you leave the patient in the care of nurses and whitaker and you exit the trauma bay. you find yourself standing next to dr. langdon, leaning on the table at the nurse’s station, when the adrenaline rush from earlier catches up to you at the same time as your morning sickness and your head spins. you can feel your heartbeat in your head and ears. you close your eyes and try to take a deep breath but everything seems to be going darker by the second. 

langdon notices and calls out your name, but you’re going down. you’re expecting some sort of impact, but instead fall into a strong pair of arms and then everything becomes dark.

when you wake up again there’s a strong white light beaming straight into your eyes and a finger holding up one of your eyelid. you turn your head away and blink a few times.

“she’s waking up,” you recognize the voice as robby’s. just then you take a good look around you. robby and dana are standing next to you, laid in a bed in one of the exam rooms. robby is putting his pen light away, worry written all over his and dana’s face. 

“what happened?” you ask and sit up slowly.

“you fainted. would probably hit the table if langdon didn’t catch you,” robby explains and dana just nods to emphasize how lucky you were.

“are you okay?” dana asks and you nod frantically.

“yeah, it’s just…” you try to explain, but robby steps in.

“can you leave us for a minute, please,” he gives dana a smile and she nods and then leaves the exam room.

“is there something wrong?” he asks and sits himself at the end of the bed and looking straight at you.

“why would there be something wrong? it was probably just a drop in my blood pressure, i’ve always been in the lower numbers. also i didn’t have a breakfast. i’ll just grab a juice box and go back to work.”

“okay. now try to be honest with me, and yourself. i can’t have my residents going around throwing up and fainting after every case,” he says. it hits you. he knew, he saw you. but it only happened a few times, the throwing up, you want to reply, but you are silent. under his gaze you feel like a small child, being reprimanded for something.

there’s a moment of silence between you and robby. he just looks at you, with those sad brown eyes that hold so much pain. and honestly, you don’t want to cause him any more stress so you just decide to tell him. also, he’s jack’s friend, he would definitely understand, right? oh, how you wish jack was there to tell him himself and you didn’t have to do it alone.

“i’m pregnant…” you say and smile shyly.

robby doesn’t seem to be surprised. he probably puts two and two together. finding you in the restroom, throwing up. seeing you sick again and then fainting.

“well, congratulations. i didn’t know you were in a relationship.”

“with jack’s baby,” you add quickly. 

now he’s surprised and his eyes almost fall out. he starts opening and closing his mouth like a fish, and you’re afraid you’re gonna have to pick him up from the floor after he collapses from the information you just dropped.

“before you say anything else. we know it’s not the best situation. the relationship and now the baby, so we kept it a secret. but we’re on different shifts, he’s not my mentor anymore…”

a smile takes over robby’s face and he leans in, to trap you in a hug. his hands curl around your shoulders and he says: “i’m not mad. i’m happy for you both. i just wish you told me sooner. jack’s my friend. hell, you’re my friend.”

“sorry,” you laugh a little when he lets go of you. “but can you…”

“sure. it’s your business, not mine,” he gives you a wink and stands up from the bed.

“rest for a minute, grab something to eat, not just juice and then you can come back,” he instructs and you smile.

jack isn’t mad when you tell him that robby knows. he’s excited. he doesn’t have to pretend in front of his friend anymore and can talk to him if anything bothers him. he can also tell him to look after you in the day shifts as it seems you are not quitting anytime soon, though he’d want that. he just wants you to focus on yourself and the baby, not having you running around the ER with another life at stake. he’d always blame himself if anything happened to either of you.

it’s hard maintaining it a secret though. much harder when you start showing. first mckay and dana find out. you’re changing in the locker room, both women doing the same. you try to hide behind the locker as you put on the scrub top, when you hear a loud sharp sigh. you quickly pull the top over your head and turn to the noise and meet mckay’s big green eyes.

“oh my god, are you pregnant?” she asks rather loudly, which only attracts dana’s attention. both women are now looking you up and down. there is no point in lying. okay, maybe you could talk mckay out of thinking you were pregnant, but not dana. that woman knows everything. you don’t even know how you managed to keep it a secret from her that long.

“you are aren’t you?” dana adds.

“okay. maybe i am,” you just let out a sigh, but smile a little. their eyes beam with happiness as they shower you with questions and congratulations. a second after you reveal the father of your child and your boyfriend and you’re sure mckay must’ve dislocated her jaw with how low it dropped.

so it becomes more of a public secret. you decide to only tell your dayshift co-workers but you’re sure the whole hospital (including gloria) knows too. and at the twenty four week mark, when the scrubs become a little too tight, you can just start wearing a shirt that says  “yes i fucked my attending (multiple times). yes i’m having his child. stop with the questions.”

and as if that wasn’t enough, robby and langdon become protective of you the same way jack is. you’re sure he has something to do with that, because he’s still working nights. you can assure them all you want that you feel fine and are more than capable of working the big trauma cases. but robby is firm in his tone when he says that until further notice, you’re working triage together with mckay.

“you could get hurt. or worse. the baby could get hurt,” he explains when you start having one of your hormonal fits and try to talk him out of it.

“i’m sure the idea is all yours,” you say with a touch or irony in your voice. robby just looks at you apologetically and leaves to take care of his patients. 

you don’t mind working triage. if it was for a few hours. you needed the adrenaline. needed to feel the rush in your veins when you know someone’s on the verge of death and you help them come back. dealing with the headaches, colds and hypochondriacs wasn’t on your 2025 bingo card. but at the same time, getting pregnant also wasn’t.

…

“i’m so big,” you pout. 

you’re laying in the bath, jack’s big, strong chest behind you, your head resting on his shoulder. his hands are around you, holding onto your pregnant belly asi if it was just gonna float away. your’re resting your hands on top of his when the realisation hits you.

“no you’re not,” he objects and moves his hands around, caressing the skin of your belly. 

“you should’ve seen me in the black scrubs. i looked like straight out of the ‘free willy’. they could do another sequel with me as the main character,” you say and huff. 

jack’s chest shake with a laugh. his head then dips down to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“you'd be the hottest orca i know,” he says in a low tone and when you turn back, to poke him in the shoulder for calling you ‘an orca’ you can see the biggest smirk on his face. 

“you don’t wanna anger this orca even more,” you warn him but jack is still smirking. and before you turn back around, he gives you a proper kiss. you lean into him, and when he deepens the kiss, you let out a silent moan. his hands are moving upward, thumb swiping gently over your sensitive nipples. you let out another moan and jack takes it as an invite. 

you’d love for things to go further, but the baby has its plans and kicks you straight in the bladder. you wince and jack moves away, worry in his eyes. 

“are you okay? did i do something?” he asks. 

“no, everything’s fine. the baby is just dancing around and got me in the bladder,” you explain. jack smiles and gives you one last peck, before you both settle in the bath again. 

…

“i see in your papers that you don’t know the gender yet. do you want to find out now?” the OB who’s on shift asks. you decided to have all the check-ups at the hospital, well, since you’re basically living there.

“no.” 

“yes.”

you and jack look at each other in an instant.

“i thought we were gonna keep it a surprise,” you scowled at him. 

“what? i told you i wanted to know,” says jack. 

“you know what, why don’t you talk about it and then call me when you’re ready,” the OB says, lets go of the ultrasound probe and leaves the exam room.

you sit up and jack hands you a bunch of paper towels so you don’t get the gel all over your fresh scrubs. he was leaving the night shift when you came in and informed him of the OB check up you arranged for the morning.

“i really wanted it to be a surprise,” you pout and tears started to build up in the corner of your eyes. you were getting more and more emotional by the day. jack thought he could keep up with your mood swings, for his sake and yours, but sometimes it was too unpredictable even for him.

“i’m sorry baby, if i knew you felt so strongly about that i’d have kept my mouth shut,” jack tries to save the situation before you have a complete breakdown. but it’s a little too late. few of the tears escape and run down your cheeks. his hand is quick to dry them and he reaches for more paper towels. you sob quietly and rub your eyes. 

“no, i’m sorry. i’m a mess. it’s the hormones,” you say between sobs, trying to stop yourself. jack stands up from the chair he’s been sat in and hugs your sitting figure. your belly is half covered, the scrub top getting stuck in the middle of you trying to pull it down.

jack’s hand touches the skin of your stomach and caresses it gently.

“don’t ever apologize for that baby. i love you, let’s wait to find out okay?” he assures and you just nod, wiping the tears away.

jack makes sure you leave safely and returns to the emergency department just in time for hand offs. the start to their shift is slow, they move some of the patients upwards and clear some beds for the night crazies that are sure to come. 

and they don’t wait for too long. it’s a little after 10pm when the ambulances bring some people from a birthday party. apparently choosing a sushi restaurant is as important as choosing a life partner. you have to make sure they don’t poison you. jack lets the residents handle it as he’s checking on a patient from the day shift who’s still waiting for an icu bed.

but it’s after midnight when the real crazies start coming in. ambulance along with police bring in a man who tried to burgle a store and then decided to leave through the glass window. yes, straight through it. the other ambulances come in with patients from pedestrians vs. vehicle.

it takes them two hours to sort through everyone and when jack finally sits down, the door open once again, but this time there’s no rush, no shouting, no red and blue lights from the ambulance bay. it’s you. 

he stands up straight, almost running your way. you stand in the main door, tears running down your face and hands shaking. he quickly asses you with his eyes, worry settling in his face. he cannot see anything being wrong, apart from the tears that are streaming down your face. but there could be something going on inside. the baby. worry is eating him alive but he tries to keep a straight face, he cannot crumble. not in front of you.

“baby what are you doing here? what’s wrong?” he asks, grabbing your hands in his and finding your crying eyes. 

“i-i…” you sob, unable to form any words. 

“come,” he instructs and take you by your hands into an empty exam room. once you’re in, he helps you to sit on the bed and then automatically starts the ultrasound machine. 

“is everything okay with the baby? are you in any pain? are you bleeding?” he showers you in questions. you dry your eyes in the sleeve of his hoodie, because that’s the only thing you can wear over your growing bump. then your hands fall down to your growing belly and jack stops in his movements and stands in front of you.

“i’m sorry if that was too much, you just scared me,” he explains and with a small smile and holds your hands in his, gently moving his thumbs over your knuckles, to ease whatever you were feeling right now.

“i ju-just, couldn’t sleep,” you start and jack stops himself from saying that you could’ve just called instead of making the drive to the ER in the middle of night, not to upset you even more.

“i was thinking about our fight. and i just don’t want you to be upset. it’s your baby too. if you want to know the gender you should be able to,” you manage to say in between sobs. you wipe your nose in the sleeve and look up at jack. your eyes are red and tired, because it’s 2am in the morning. you expect to find jack’s always serious face, but instead, relief takes over. he gives you a smile and takes a seat right next to you, on the bed.

“god, baby. i thought something happened to you. i’m not upset with you, i could never. i was just worried,” he says, hand coming up to cup your face. his thumb wipes away the remains of tears that were still there. 

“i don’t want you to be worried,” you say and new tears start pooling in your eyes. jack grabs a tissue from a nearby cart and hands it to you. you wipe your tears and blow your nose. you feel like a little kid, being comforted by a parent after doing something stupid. 

“i’ll always be worried, baby. i love you. and i’m perfectly fine to wait to find out if you want,” he reassures you and leans in to kiss you on the forehead. you calm down at the touch of his lips to your skin and close your eyes for a second.

“i kind of want to know now though,” you say and look down into your lap, embarrassed by the sudden change of mind. jack doesn’t show it, but he’s smirking inside, throwing hands up in a winning gesture. he knew you’d wanna wait, but something inside was telling him that eventually you’d cave in. you were too curious to wait for the actual birth.

“want me to do it?” he asks with a raised brow.

“well i didn’t come here to chit chat.” 

now he’s smirking. you’re back to your good old pregnant sassy yourself. you’re pulling up the hoodie as jack takes the always cold ultrasound gel and puts it all over your bump. you wiggle excitedly and jack laughs a little before grabbing the probe and angling the screen your way also, so you can look at the baby together.

“okay, let’s find out,” he says in a low voice, moving the probe around.

“wait!” you say suddenly and jack jerks his hand away from your abdomen, afraid he’s done something wrong.

“what do you think it’s gonna be? wanna bet?” you smirk his way and he has to take a deep breath to get over the small adrenaline rush you just gave him.

“i don’t know. i was thinking a girl, but i’m fine with whatever as long as the baby is healthy,” he says, returning the probe to your belly, the baby’s spine appearing on the screen again.

“oh my god. i was thinking boy. we gotta bet!”

“okay, okay, it’s a bet,” jack laughs at your sudden excitement to find out the baby’s gender. “let me make a few measurements thought, to make sure everything is fine.”

“jack, we were at the OB in the morning, just focus on the important part.”

“you can never be too careful,” he objects, but gives you a smirk. “okay, pay attention,” he instructs and you can see on the screen that he’s moving down to the baby’s parts.

you both squint at the screen, silent race between the two of you, of who’s gonna be the first to see it. jack’s steady hand continues to move, but the baby’s movement are making it a little hard until…

“there!” you yell out, almost sitting up, and point at the screen. jack almost flinches again, but keeps his hand on your abdomen, trying to focus the picture better by pressing all the different buttons on the ultrasound.

“that’s just the cord,” jack smirks when taking a better look at the screen.

“fuck,” you breathe out, settling back on the bed. you rub your eyes with your hand. it’s 2am, you’re heavily pregnant and tired. no one would expect you to see everything clearly at the ultrasound. well, you would, because you’re always expecting 110% of yourself. jack always tells you to cut yourself a little slack. right after telling you to just take the damn maternity leave and not go to work.

“but this. this is it,” jack says, freezing the picture. you turn your head to the screen and look at it closely, before a wide smile settles on your face. tears are starting to pool at your eyes again, and you cannot stop them.

“i win,” you say triumphantly. “i was right.”

“you’re always right,” jack’s smile is just as wide as your, not a hint of disappointment or sadness at the results of the bet.

“true,” you give him a wink and sit up at the bed, hanging your legs down. jack turns off the ultrasound machine, but not before printing out the picture of your son’s genitals. you don’t question that choice, too busy with smiling and wiggling your legs.

jack stands between your legs, as close as the bump allows him and cups your face in his hands. he looks into your eyes, intensely, with all the emotion that he’s feeling. happiness, joy, bliss. everything.

“we are going to have a son,” he accentuates every word.

his thumb swipes across your bottom lip and he dips his head down to kiss you. it surprises you, how deep the kiss is, but you don’t complain. one of jack’s hand moves from your face down to the bump. you are both too invested in the kiss to realise there’s still a whole lot of gel on your abdomen. you’re the first to break the kiss, after a moment.

“fuck, your hoodie is gonna be ruined,” you exhale, looking down at your bump. the gel is a bitch. it seems to find its way everywhere it’s not supposed to be. and it ruined a few of your tops already, because you just couldn’t get it washed out properly. 

“i don’t care, i have others,” he says and leans in for another kiss, but then his pager goes off. he stops midway, taking a look at it, and then gives you one last kiss.

“sorry baby they’re bringing in more patients. are you okay to go home by yourself? should i send someone with you? call you an uber?”

“jack, go. i’ll be fine.”

“drive safely. text me when you’re home.”

…

jack is unable to convince you to stay home even after the 36 week mark. there’s only one month to go, until your baby boy’s here, but you’re stubborn as ever. you’re waddling around the ER, staying on top of triage, where robby put you. him and langdon and dana and well, almost everyone on the day shift, including whitaker, is keeping an eye on you. jack isn’t texting just you, but he’s bombarding robby with messages when you don’t respond or pick up your phone and robby has to reassure him that you’re fine, you’re wearing your compression socks, eating and drinking water and taking breaks regularly.

now you’re 38 weeks, feeling like a balloon that’s about to blow. and the braxton hicks you’ve been experiencing for the past week or so certainly aren’t helping. you’re in for another day shift, clutching an apple juice box in your hands as you go around listening to the hand offs, though frank told you, you could sit down and he’ll update you on everything afterwards. the last thing you wanted to do was sit. standing up, you felt like a balloon, but sitting down, you felt like that weird sea animal called blobfish. its sad, pink, shiny face embedded in your mind from high school biology.

you’re lucky to get a slow start into the shift. you sit in the nurses station, feet propped up on a chair that is currently not occupied by anyone, a labour and parenthood book in your hand. you’re currently reading up on the labour chapters and sigh suddenly.

“i can’t believe how much i’ve forgotten about this stuff,” you say and dana laughs from behind you. 

“the only thing you wanna know is get all the pain relief you can get and don’t listen to anyone. your body is gonna tell you everything,” she says and you see langdon’s confused face. he’s standing in front of a computer, putting some patient information in.

“don’t listen to anyone? what kind of advice is that,” he scoffs.

“oh, just another man all up in a women’s business,” dana replies annoyingly, which makes langdon shut up and not say another word. you just laugh at their interaction and go back to your book. then whitaker shows up out of nowhere.

“doc, could you help me with a case?”

you look up at him. it doesn’t seem that serious, so you let go of the book and beckon to him.

“sure, but help me stand up, these chairs are madly low.” he jumps forward, catching your hands in his and pulling you up from the chair. you exhale when you’re up, having to adjust to the change of positions.

to say you’d made whitaker kind of your servant would be an understatement. but you didn’t really consider it a bad thing. and he didn’t mind too, or so you believed. if he did, he never said a thing. so yeah, maybe you took a little advantage of that.

“i have a young male, complaining of chest pains since this morning. the pain is worse when he’s laying down, no recent trauma or illness, no fever, cough, shortness of breath. i did a cardiopulmonary exam, found decreased breath sounds on the right side,” whitaker presents while you’re walking to the exam room. 

“what test did you order?” you ask and rub your back while walking. you were sore from the night, not getting enough sleep, because the baby decided to have a dance party at midnight.

“basic labs and chest x-ray, should we do an ecg?” he asks and you enter the room. you both disinfect your hands and grab gloves from the cart. you introduce yourself to the patient and almost instantly, you can tell what is going to be wrong with him. nevertheless, you repeat whitaker’s exam, to make sure for yourself. grabbing your stethoscope, you listen to the patients lungs and heart.

“let’s do an ecg, just to be sure it’s not something heart related. are the x-rays back?” you ask. whitaker goes to the computer, sound of clicking filling the room.

“yes, they’re here.”

“bring them up, let’s look at them,” you say and stand next to him. 

“oh my god. a pneumothorax? how’s that possible, there’s no injury.”

“do you know what a primary spontaneous pneumothorax is?” you ask. whitaker nods and start babbling away all the fact he knows about psp.

“it can occur in young males, with a tall and thin build. often caused by the rupture of bullae.”

“right, how do you treat them?”

“100% oxygen to let it resorb on itself and observe. if it gets worse… chest tube?”

“very right. you do that and i’ll just be back there if you need me. if he gets worse, call me right away.”

with that you leave the room. in the hall, you have to stop for a minute, taking a deep breat in. the baby boy is really enjoying torturing you, kicking you in the ribs and punching your bladder every opportunity he gets. now it’s not any different and you go to the restroom, as the urgency builds up. shouldn’t have down that apple juice in one sitting.

you feel like you barely make it and sit down at the toilet as quickly as you can without breaking your back. you really don’t want to have that bella swan bathroom moment. surely not in the workplace, that would be embarrassing. and you don’t know if whitaker alone would be capable of getting you up from the floor. your mind starts going in spirals imagining the mortification if you had fallen down in the restroom with your pants down. just when you think you’re done, you feel a light ‘pop’. you feel a warm fluid streaming down into the toilet and you freeze. was that just what you think it was?

right after that, a quite strong braxton-hicks hits you and you have to keep sitting on the toilet to breathe through it. after, you exit the stall washing your hands in the sink, looking at the clock. it seems that what you’ve now had was two contractions in an hour. that’s not labour yet, but could be turning into it soon. you also needed to make sure that what you just felt streaming down your leg was or was not amniotic fluid. 

coming out of the restroom, you find whitaker in the crowd. yes, you could go to robby or dana or langdon but they would probably freak out, call jack and make you lie down until you gave birth. you didn’t exactly want that. so whitaker it is.

he’s standing in front of a computer, looking at some patient stuff when you approach him. 

“oh, hey. just so you know, our patient responded well to the oxygen, i think the pneumothorax will go away on its own.”

“yeah great, i need you to do something for me.”

whitaker’s eyes grow even bigger, if that’s even possible and he opens his mouth in question.

“you’ll now go up to the third floor, subtly, labour & delivery is there and grab one of the amnisure kits. subtly. do you get what the keyword is? no one can know.”

you’re almost sure whitaker’s eyes are gonna pop out when you drop your request. 

“did your water break?” he squeals and you hit him in the shoulder, trying to shut him up.

“well, we won’t know without the test will we? so go, please,” you plead and after a moment whitaker nods and strides away towards the elevators.

“everything okay?” a voice appears behind you. you turn around at the surprise and see robby standing behind you, his hands in the pockets of the signature blue hoodie, the stethoscope hanging around his neck. you instinctively touch yours and swing on your feet. 

“sure, why wouldn’t it be?” you ask, hoping to sound as innocent as you can.

“just checking in,” robby replies, following you into the nurses station.

“did jack tell you to check in on me again?”

“no, this one is purely on me,” robby laughs. “so why is whitaker running around the whole hospital?”

“taking care of a patient, i reckon,” you answer and sit down on the chair, sighing with relief, when you can finally rest your back.

“and you? did you eat something? drink water?” robby swarms you with the questions and you just rolled your eyes.

“yes, boss, don’t worry. i’m fine. you can let jack know when he asks,” you reply and robby just gives you a tired smile.

you didn’t mind the attention at first. but now it was becoming more and more annoying. you’re not a little kid. you can ask for help when you need it. hell, you just asked. yes, you asked whitaker and in secret, but you did anyways. and that counts for something.

everytime the elevator dings, you turn your head around. dana is asking if you’re expecting someone soon, but you hit her with the ‘yes a beautiful baby boy’ and she just shakes her head, but you can see her smile. it takes like seven elevator rides, for the doors to finally open and reveal whitaker, who looks like he just ran a marathon. 

“doc, i hope this was worth it,” he says silently, when you meet him halfway on the way from the elevator. “i had to flirt and lie to some L&D nurse to get the kit.” 

“perfect. now let’s go, you need to do it for me,” you say and grab him by his shoulder to take him into an empty exam room.

“what?” he stops abruptly and looks at you with wide eyes. they might pop out any moment, the second time in under an hour. “i-i-i don’t think… i-i’m not the right person. shouldn’t we ask dr. robby for help?”

“no way. you can do it. it’s just like sticking a long q-tip up someone’s… well you know what. i’d do it myself, but you can see i’m kind of indisposed right now,” you rub your belly to accentuate what you’re trying to say.

whitaker cringes visibly, but you don’t allow him to protest any more and you go inside the empty room. before anything happens, you both read through the instructions.

“seems pretty easy,” you say and close the brochure that was inside the kit. “you just swab it around, then we put it in the solvent and then test it. just like with covid tests.”

your joke doesn’t exactly land, because when you look at whitaker, his hands are shaking. you place a hand on his shoulder, trying to sound reassuring, but your own voice shakes. you’re not sure if you want to know. maybe it would be better to wait for the contractions and forget all about the possible membranes rupture.

“it’s gonna be okay,” you say for both of you. then you take a blanket that’s on the bed and wrap it around you, discarding of your scrub pants and underwear. whitaker, like a gentleman he is, turns around and puts on a clean pair of gloves.

“okay, let’s get this over with,” you say as you position yourself on the bed, with your knees bent. whitaker takes a deep breath in but complies. it’s over in a minute. you then put your pants back on and help whitaker with the other steps of the test. 

“okay, now we wait for 5 to 10 minutes and we’ll know,” you say, putting your hands on your hips looking at the vial, where the test is submerged. 

“i don’t think we have to wait that long,” whitaker points out to the obvious two lines forming on the test stripe. these damn two lines, they’re gonna ruin your life. guess it starts with two lines and ends with two lines, you think to yourself.

“you’re in labour,” he says plainly and you think he’s gonna faint, from the way he’s looking at you. his skin was fair to begin with, but now whitaker looks like a ghost.

“labour starts with regular contractions, whitaker. not with membranes rupture. and i don’t got th-...” you have to stop, because another strong cramp hits your lower back. grabbing the edge of the bed, you have to breathe through it for a few seconds, before being to able finish your sentence. “as you can see, i don’t have regular contractions yet.” 

you look at the clock in the exam room. how far apart were they. 30 maybe 40 minutes? they hit hard, but you still had some time before the active stage of labour started.

“you sure?” whitaker asks, worry in his voice.

“100%. let’s get back to work.”

robby needs your help with an end-of-life care patient who the ambulance brought in from a senior care facility. taking care of them and talking to the family can be emotionally draining, but at least you aren’t risking getting hurt in the midst of a serious trauma case.

those damn braxton-hicks are catching up to you as you go back and forth between the nurses station, the patient’s room and family room and when you finally have a moment for yourself, you ground yourself on the table where the computer sits, and breathe through one of the stronger ones. they’re starting to get a bit more regular and strong, and you don’t think you can call them braxton-hicks anymore. fuck, you cannot be labouring in the middle of your shift. jack’s at home, fast asleep after a rough night shift, but you know he’s only a phone call away. still, you don’t wanna disturb anyone, since the pain is still quite bearable.

but those little stops and you breathing a little too deeply, cannot hide from robby’s eyes. he’s seen you walk around with one hand either on your back or front, having to stop occasionally and focus on your breathing. he knew something was up, but he wanted you to admit it first. he couldn’t pressure you into saying anything. he can ask though.

“what’s up with you,” he rolls forward on the chair in the nurses station to face you. “should i be calling jack?”

you’re in the middle of trying to breathe through another contraction subtly, when his voice interrupts. you look up at him. “what?”

“are you having contractions?” he asks blatantly.

“no.”

“don’t… i’ve seen you needed to take breaks more often. you’ve been breathing as if you’re practicing for a deep dive. how far apart they are?”

you take a look at your watch. “like fifteen minutes? they’re still pretty irregular. some i can just ignore, some i need to breathe through. it’s nothing.”

“it’s not nothing,” robby scoffs. “i’m calling jack. and getting you a fetal heartbeat monitor for now.”

“no, robby. don’t call him just yet, he’ll freak out. i’ll call him myself, when i’m actually in labour.”

robby rubs his face with his hands in desperation. “why are you so stubborn?”

“i’m not. i’m asserting my autonomy,” you smile innocently, batting your eyelashes. robby just laughs at your actions.

“okay, but if the contractions are closer together or your water breaks, tell me immediately,” he instructs. you’re taken aback by his words, staring at him wide eyed and he instantly catches on. you wish you could control your face better.

“oh, god. don’t tell me…” he rubs his face again. “you’re unbelievable. how long? was it clear?”

“i don’t know, maybe two hours ago. we did an amnisure.”

“we?” robby looks at you with a surprise. 

“well, whitaker might’ve helped.”

“poor kid,” robby laughs. “but that changes the situation. i’m getting you up to L&D now.”

“noooo,” you protest. “i wanna be here.”

“what’s going on?” dana intercepts your conversation.

“she’s in labour,” robby says.

“what?” dana asks with a surprise. 

“god, robby, does the whole floor need to know?” you ask, but you’re interrupted by a contraction. 

“that was not fifteen minutes,” he points out. 

“i told you they’re irregular,” you say in between breaths, clutching at your lower back. maybe you are gonna have a bella swan moment with how the pain is stabbing you in the back.

“i don’t believe you, frankly. you’ve been lying the whole morning. we’re taking you up and calling jack. i’m revoking your autonomy,” robby says and you know he means it as a joke but the way he says it, makes you only wanna fight him more. you’re not going anywhere.

“no.”

“yes.”

“no.”

“i’m your attending, you gotta listen.”

“honey, he’s got a point. let’s just go upstairs to get you checked out and then we’ll see what we can do next. don’t you wanna know if the baby is okay?” dana tries to mediate the whole situation. “donnie, a wheelchair please?”

“how dare you use my own child against me. and i can walk just fine,” you say. another contractions comes and everybody knows that what you just said is bullshit. 

so you let them sit you in a wheelchair and before they can roll you into the elevator, you manage to yell at whitaker to follow you. nor dana neither robby question your choice of company, so all four of you just ride silently to the third floor.

robby wheels you into one of the exam rooms, your OB taking in the escort that came with you. you just brush it off, when they leave you alone in the room, for your check up. but before they can leave, you give whitaker your phone and tell him to text jack.

the OB does both an ultrasound and a vaginal exam. the verdict is, yes, your water broke, yes, you’re having contractions like ten minutes apart and you’re 3 centimeters dilated.

“perfect, i can go back to work right?”

“you were serious about that?” your OB asks with a surprised tone. you start nodding your head.

“i’d strongly suggest against that. we can give you a room in our department, your co-workers can come visit if they want, but unless you plan on delivering the baby in the ER…”

“shit,” you sigh, one of the stronger contractions hits you. the doctor is kind enough to wait while you breathe through it. 

suddenly the door opens and whitaker is standing with your phone to his ear. double shit, you think. 

“i’m sorry. i texted him, he started calling so i picked up and now he’s mad at me, and possibly you and-...” you don’t have to think twice to know who’s he talking about.

“just give me the fucking phone, dennis.”

you put the phone to your ear and before you can say anything, jack does.

“why didn’t you call me sooner. and why does whitaker have your phone?” you can hear him packing stuff, probably getting ready to come to the hospital.

“i didn’t wanna worry you. it was nothing.”

“water breaking is not nothing. how was the check up?”

“everything is fine. i’m at 3 centimeters, you don’t have to rush. still a long way to go.”

“well i’m on my way anyway. hold on. i love you both,” he says and with that he hangs up.

you let the nice OB convince you to stay in L&D and you convince robby to let whitaker stay with you until jack arrives. robby asks the student if it’s okay with him and to your surprise he just nods, rubbing your back when a contraction comes.

“how was the pneumothorax patient?” you ask whitaker as you’re walking around the room, already dressed in one of the pale blue hospital gowns, fetal heartbeat monitor strapped to your belly.

“good, good. he got a bed upstairs, for observation,” whitaker says and holds your phone, where you showed him an app for timing your contractions. he takes the job very seriously.

“so, you know what you are naming your son yet?” he asks, to take your attention off the pain as much as he can. you shake your head, inhaling and exhaling deeply, but not too deeply to send yourself into hyperventilation. the room is filled by the sound of your breathing and the soft beats of your baby’s heart.

“we haven’t thought about it yet. we’ll just decide on the spot.”

minutes pass, you feel like the contractions are coming more and more frequently and each time more and more intense than the last ones. breathing isn’t enough, you have to groan and moan to feel some sort of relief. whitaker is still clutching your phone, timing them patiently.

“how far apart are they?”

“three minutes.”

“fuck. where is jack?” you cry, the pain sending a few tears down your face. you’re standing by the bed, bent over, holding onto the edge and moving your hips, to ease at least some of it. it is becoming more and more unbearable. and you refuse to let the midwife check you. you don’t want to know how close you are to pushing a watermelon out of your lady parts. you like your lady parts. jack likes them. or at least you hope. and you don’t want to know, in case jack wasn’t gonna make it. where the hell was he anyway?

“should i call him?” whitaker asks.

“get him here. now. or i’m gonna kill someone.”

whitaker’s eyes are threatening to pop out once again, as he excuses himself and leaves the room to call jack. it takes a moment and he’s back. 

“could you put pressure on my lower back?” you ask, gritting your teeth. whitakers is by you in a second, but doesn’t know exactly what to do.

“just place your hands on my lower back. and put a lot of pressure. what’s there to not understand?”

whitaker does as you instruct and you sigh. the pressure feels so good. it’s like someone’s fighting the contractions with you.

there’s a knock on the door and without really waiting for the answer, the person knocking enters. it’s jack. just seeing him makes you feel 100% better. his calm but serious presence making itself known.

“what the fuck, whitaker?” is the first thing he says. the med student jumps away from you, putting his hands into the pockets of his scrubs. 

“i asked him, jack, let him go,” you say on whitaker’s behalf. he doesn’t need much persuading. jack raises an eyebrow at him and he leaves the room.

“finally, you’re here,” you sigh happily, when jack approaches you.

“yes, i’m here baby,” he says and you lean into him, head resting on his chest, still bent over slightly. his hands are rubbing your back and hips, helping you breathe through the contractions. 

a minute later the midwife knocks, asking you if you hadn’t changed your mind about the vaginal exam. you agree to one, now that jack’s here. the midwife greets him and they both help you up on bed for the exam. 

“well isn’t it wonderful? you’re about 8 centimeters and looking at the fetal monitor, baby is doing just fine. just hold on a little more while, and you’ll have him here with you.”

“what? more? please no,” you cry and jack bends down to kiss your head.

“don’t kiss me. you did this to me. now i have to push a fucking watermelon out of my vagina,” you scowl at jack and he cannot help himself but smile at your actions.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he says as he’s helping you down from the bed in between contractions, because you cannot bear laying down in this state.

you feel like your abdomen is contracting all the time, giving you no breaks. you walk around the room, jack following you like a puppy, holding your hands or the whole lot of you when you need him, handing you the water bottle when you’re thirsty and popping the green apple bears in your mouth when you’re in need of some quick energy. apparently the others taste like vomit, but not the green bears. he doesn’t comment on that and just hands you more gummies when you ask, like the gentleman he is.

there’s a stage at which you start pleading and protesting, thinking it would get you out of this mess, but it’s too late. you know it, he knows it, but you do it nevertheless. the pain is becoming unbearable, no amount of breathing and moving around helping to ease it. 

“fucking kill me. i cannot do it.”

“don’t talk like that, of course you can. look how far you’ve gotten, a little bit more and the baby’s here,” jack tells you reassuringly.

“it’s always ‘a little more’ and never ‘you’re ready to push’ or ‘we can see the head’,” you say with a lot of sarcasm and jack just wanna laugh, but stops himself, when he sees your glare.

a contractions hits you, this one even more intense than the last ones, if it’s even possible and you feel pressure down there. the need to put yourself into it and push a little is surprising, but your body does what it needs without you really controlling it anymore. you feel like your whole body is contracting and helping push out this baby. you lean into the bed, still standing up.

“jack…” you breathe out. “i think i need to push.”

he’s quick in his actions, pressing the call button to alert the midwife who’s taking care of you. 

“do you want to go up on the bed?”

“no,” you reply at the same time as the midwife enters the room. you don’t really recognise her presence in the room as you turn more and more inwards, focusing on you and getting this baby out. another contraction washes over you like a ocean wave.

“oh god, it’s coming,” you cry out and you can feel the midwife putting a sheet under you and kneeling down to see what’s going on. 

“you’re doing great, doctor, i can already see a bit of the baby’s head. on the next contraction, give me your biggest push.”

you push as hard as you can, jack whispering in your hair how you’re the strongest woman he’s ever met. one of his hands never leaves your lower back and the other is caressing your hair, getting the short ones out of your sweaty face. 

“perfect. one more big push and the baby’s here,” the midwife says and you can feel her hands on your lady parts, though you don’t care. it actually gives you a nice sense of where to concentrate all the strength you have left.

and on the next contraction, with jack still whispering encouraging words into your ear, you push so hard, your vision almost goes black. you feel like you’re on fire and are about to blow up. with a loud cry, you give the last push everything you can and somewhere from under you, you can hear the midwife telling you to breathe.

“baby, his head is out, just breathe, you’re doing amazing,” jack repeats her words and when you look at him, you can see tears in his eyes. you don’t ever recall seeing jack crying. you give him a weak smile.

“now we wait for the shoulders. on the next contractions, push just a little and your baby will be here,” the midwife gives you instructions and you can already feel the next contraction building up. 

“oh god,” you give into the sensation one last time and suddenly all the pain is away. you feel like every organ in your body dropped back into its original place and relief washes over you. you take in a sharp breath, the euphoria taking over your body.

“congratulations, doctor. your baby boy is here,” the midwife exclaims from underneath you and you feel a sudden urge to hold him. you need to hold your baby now.

“where is he?” you ask with a weak voice. the midwife instructs you to turn around carefully and sit on the bed, as she’s holding the baby boy, because he’s still connected to you by the cord. at the same time jack is helping you undress the hospital gown and before you know it, a warm, little, pink bundle with surprisingly lot of curls, is laid down on your chest, squirming under every touch. you fall in love. hard.

“why is he not crying?” you ask, worry lacing your voice.

“he’s still on the cord, he might not cry until we cut it. it’s perfectly normal,” the midwife says.

“god. baby. he’s perfect, you’re perfect,” jack says from beside you and you finally turn your head to look at him properly. a wide smile is on his face and he’s rubbing his eyes, to stop himself from crying. he’s looking at you wit love in his eyes. like you hung the moon and stars and even more.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to be rude before,” you apologise, raising your hand to touch his face, recalling the things you said. you wipe away a tear that’s streaming down his cheek with your thumb.

“what? i didn’t even notice,” jack brushes you off, his hand caressing your face, before lightly touching the baby’s back. he squirms once again under jack’s touch and for the first time, opens his eyes just a bit. 

“he looks just like you,” jack almost whispers. 

“what do you mean,” you laugh. “he’s just like you. look at his hair. look how much there is.”

jack looks lovingly at the little bundle in your arms. it’s almost unbelievable. you’ve never seen him so… vulnerable, emotional. yes, he’s been vulnerable with you many times during your relationship, though never like this. something has changed. 

“do you want to cut the cord? it’s collapsed,” the midwife says and you want to protest, because you don’t want jack anywhere near your destroyed lady parts, but when you see the excitement in his eyes, you don’t say anything. 

she hands jack the scissors and instructs him on where to cut. with a doctor’s precision he cuts through it and immediately after, your son starts to get fussy and lets out his first cry. you feel relief, though you knew he was okay, because you could feel him moving and breathing on you, but the moment you hear his cry, you’re certain.

you feel a slight pressure down there and the midwife says, it’s probably the placenta. when she checks, and is right, she instructs you to give a little push to deliver it. it’s nothing like delivering the baby, but your lady parts have had enough for one day. or so you thought.

“okay, perfect. i’m just gonna do a quick check now and then leave you all three to enjoy each other,” she says. you grimace. are you ever gonna catch a break? jack holds your hand through the whole check up and when the midwife tells you everything is fine and you didn’t even tear, you smile widely. 

“you’re a superhero,” jack says with a smile, giving you a quick kiss.

“have you thought of a name for him? or do you need more time?” she asks before leaving the room.

…

all the name choosing was giving him a headache, even after all this time passed. you just couldn’t find a common ground on any of the options.

“jack is a nice name,” he says as a joke, though you take it seriously and glare at his back.

jack is standing by the stove, preparing dinner for the both of you, while you just sit at the table, munching on the green gummy bears you love so much.

“yeah so your ego can go through the roof? i don’t think so,” you say with a drop of sarcasm.

“you don’t like my name?”

“i like your name. but it’s yours. i’m not naming our son the same.”

“why not? i’d name our daughter after you,” he opposes and you laugh at the absurdity of the conversation. 

“even i wouldn’t name our daughter after me,” you reply and laugh, chewing off a head of the gummy bear. jack smirks back at you, grabbing two plates from the cupboard, putting the food on them and walking over to the table.

“let’s eat some real food,” he says and puts the plate in front of you. there’s a piece of chicken tender, potatoes and a salad, because jack insists eating green stuff is good for you. duh, why does he think you’re always snacking on the green gummy bears?

“i like aaron. or spencer,” you say.

“you might not name our kid after me. but i’m certainly not naming him after a criminal minds character.”

“why not though?” you pout and poke the chicken with your fork.

“no, way,” jack says with a serious face and you know you’re not getting this idea past him.

“not even derek? you liked derek.”

jack just rolls his eyes and tells you to eat. you stuff your cheeks full of the delicious food he prepared for you.

“what about william?”

“can you stop with the criminal minds characters?”

“what do you mean? i certainly meant prince william.”

“certainly,” jack scoffs with disbelief and laughs at your ideas.

…

“we haven-...”

“yes.” you say at the same time as jack. he looks at you with a surprise in his eyes. he didn’t realise you had decided on a name. even if you did, it was definitely without him knowing. he just hoped it was not a criminal minds character’s name.

“dennis…” jack’s eyes widen at your answer. 

“i hope you’re kidding. i’m not gonna name my child after-...” he wants to protest, but you interrupt him, looking him straight in the eyes, deadly serious.

“dennis michael abbot.” 

and there it is again. jack’s face soften. he sighs and then nods. “dennis michael abbot it is.”

More Posts from M14mags and Others

m14mags
2 weeks ago
SOLID WORK; Dr Jack Abbot X Dr!reader

SOLID WORK; dr jack abbot x dr!reader

words: 4,700+

content warnings: my minimal medical knowledge, doctor humor, abbot’s filthy mouth, some smut, fluff <3

notes: i am so beyond new to this fandom and to tumblr so please stick with me but i couldn’t not write this🫶

・❥・

”Solid work.”

My breathing slows as I start to process the complexity of the procedure I had just performed. I’d probably be blushing at Dr Abbot’s praise if it weren’t for the adrenaline coursing through me.

“That was your save. Not mine.”

Trust me - I am never jumping to credit a man with my work but that was the truth. I may have physically done everything but the idea and the instructions that made it possible were all Dr Abbot.

I look back down at the patient. I tell myself it’s to make sure this is all real. That I really just did that. But if I am being honest it’s to avoid Dr Abbot’s unwavering eye contact.

“Hey-“

He is not gonna let me. I look up to meet his gaze. So rock solid but somehow so warm all at once. He may as well be staring right through me.

He lightly rests his hand on my forearm to stop me from going for the suture. To stop me from giving him anything other than my undivided attention.

“-you are the smartest person in here. Take the win.”

I can’t help the exasperated smile that spreads across my face. He’s right. I’ve only got a couple months left of residency. I should just take the fucking win for once in my life.

Abbot, much to my surprise, smiles back. And he has dimples because of course he does.

He’s calm under pressure, he lies on official paperwork to get a teenage girl the abortion she has every right to, he’s the actual smartest one here, he’s kind to everyone in this ED regardless of the stress he is under, and…he still has his hand on my arm.

His hand. The veins there don’t hurt the eyes either.

We must both realize his lingering touch at the same time because he is clearing his throat and pulling away. He reaches for a surgical instrument he doesn’t need. Picks it up and then puts it down.

I swear there is a faint blush on his cheeks but if I think about that too long one will appear on my own.

“Let Whitaker stitch this up. Go home - get some rest. Your shift ended hours ago.”

“I love Whitaker but he is so slow we may as well let the wound heal all on its own.”

Dr Abbot laughs. Genuinely, truly laughs as we exit out of the trauma bay. So loud that Robby looks over and asks if he’s okay.

Don’t get me wrong. Dr Abbot has a wonderful sense of humor. A wicked one, actually. But it’s one of those dry, witty kinds. Not the animated, giggly kind.

I tell myself it’s not a bad thing that I’m proud to have gotten a good laugh out of him. That it’s not a bad thing that it gave me butterflies. That’s it’s not a bad thing that I am laying in bed wondering how the hell I am going to get him to do that again.

・❥・

Jack lets out a low moan as he recovers. His eyes are dazed, his head slightly tilted back but not so much so that he can’t keep eye contact with me.

His hand that held the makeshift ponytail in my hair starts to massage my scalp as the other hand reaches for my chin and tilts my head up to meet his strong gaze.

Once he’s got me where he wants me, his thumb travels from my chin to my lips, swiping what’s left of his release off of it.

“My good girl. So good for me, yeah?”

My thighs involuntarily clench together at his words. He knows it too. I nod as his thumb presses further into my mouth, my lips wrapping around it.

His mouth quips into a smirk, “Solid work, doctor.”

I roll my eyes and bat his hand away. Standing up from my knees on my own. Ignoring his arms trying to gently guide me up instead.

“That! That is exactly what I am talking about!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, baby.”

Jack just laughs as he grabs my wrist, turning me back towards him. He’s quick to have me pinned up against our shower wall - his strong thigh spreading my own apart as he plants long slow kisses across my neck.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Back when I was a resident, otherwise known as a couple months ago, Jack consistently praised what I was doing by saying “Solid work.”

The way he did always made me dizzy. His voice would drop an octave and he’d look me straight in my eyes while he said it. There is nothing inherently sensual about the phrase but it took me a while to realize he was not complimenting the other residents like that.

Him saying it during sex started as a joke. Harkening back to when, as he puts it, I was so painfully oblivious to his flirting. To which I responded, “That was flirting?”.

He said it again to me at work the next day. Being completely and utterly genuine. I don’t even remember what I did but I did it well and he is always the first to acknowledge that. So he was confused when I just huffed in annoyance and peeled out of the room without so much of a glance at him.

I wasn’t annoyed at him. I was annoyed that now all I could think about was him. His hands, his biceps, his tongue. Everything. And I still had six hours of my shift to go.

He followed me into the on-call room I was going to find some refuge in. He locked the door behind him - closed the curtain for good measure.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

And then I felt bad. He thought something was actually wrong. That no way I’d ever brush him off like that when he was just trying to compliment me unless something was seriously wrong.

His eyes bored into mine, genuine concern and love pouring out of them. And here I was just being a brat.

I tried to be sly about the way my eyes trailed the veins bulging out of his biceps. I tried to be sly about the way I was imagining my hands tugging on his salt and pepper curls that were just slightly askew from a couple hours work. Unfortunately for me, Jack can read me like a book.

“Did you just stomp out of the ED because you’re needy?” Jack couldn’t contain the grin that spread across his face at the realization.

“Well maybe if you weren’t always going Mr Christian Gray on me with the praise-“

“I don’t even know who that is but all I said was ‘Solid work’-“

Jack stops himself as he remembers the past couple nights. When he was saying the same thing in a much different context.

I can’t say I’m entirely innocent. Or innocent at all really. I love throwing in a ‘sir’ every now and again at work to tease Jack. So he does the same to me with other phrases - constantly.

And he said the same thing in that on-call room that he is saying to me right now, “But what I do know is how fucking wet you are for me. So stop pouting and let me taste you, yeah?”

He swipes a finger through my soaked folds before he’s the one sinking down to his knees as I try to keep mine from buckling.

・❥・

“Solid work, Dr Abbot.”

I smile down at my sparkling new engagement ring and then up at the love of my life.

“Seriously? You can tease but I can’t?”

“What’s that saying again? Happy wife, happy life?”

Neither of us can wipe the huge grins off of our faces. No one knows we’re engaged yet. Just how we wanted it.

A couple of months ago, right after I had taken an attending job at The Pitt, Jack had broached the topic of marriage. We’d talked about it before. We both knew we were spending the rest of our lives together. But we hadn’t actually talked about the timeline of it all - the logistics.

Jack was always extremely hyper aware about how our relationship affected me. He didn’t want it to interfere with my career or all of my hard work. So as much as he would’ve walked down the aisle six months ago, he wanted everything to be on my terms.

“Hypothetically - if I were to propose, say within the next month - would you say yes?”

“Hypothetically - if I ever say no to a marriage proposal from you - please get me a psychiatry consult.”

Jack laughed - in an airy way where you could tell he was relieved. I kissed him. There was no universe in which I ever said no to a proposal from him.

He pestered me with questions. He wanted direction but not so much so that I wouldn’t be surprised when the time came.

I told him I didn’t want anything fancy. No big party although I did want to have a small gathering with our friends and family at some point afterwards. A nice sized diamond but not gaudy. No grand gestures - just him being him is all that I wanted.

And he executed perfectly. Because when does he not. It was our first night in the new home we had bought. He said we could get a hotel while we waited for our furniture to be delivered. But I wanted to do one night with no furniture, an air mattress, some candles, and a pizza delivery.

“Like camping.” I had said.

“You hate camping.”

I laughed because he was right but he obliged me anyways. He carried me over the threshold and I made a joke about how he’s got to be careful - being old and all.

Then he carried me right over to the air mattress, said something like “Can an old man do this?” and went on to coax four orgasms from me - one from his fingers, one from his tongue, one from his thigh, and finally one from where I wanted him most.

When we were done, I threw on one of his old tshirts and a pair of boxers. He just had on an old pair of sweats and a white tee. We stared into each others eyes like two lovesick teenagers until he said “Come here - I gotta show you something.”

“Babe, the house is empty.”

“Get over here smart ass.”

Jack picked up a candle and lead us over to the fireplace. He set the candle on the mantle as I read what was now engraved into the stone ‘The Abbots - Est 2025’

“So this is why you were getting all of those random tools from Amazon.”

Ever the handy man he is. Then he was on his knee. His bad one. To which I told him he didn’t have to do that. And then he said he would even if it killed him. And I think I said something stupid like “Not on my watch.”

I don’t even remember what he said after that. He doesn’t either. We both blacked out from sheer happiness. All I really remember is him asking me to do him the honor of being his wife and me pulling him up off of his knee and saying ‘Duh!’ as fast I could before kissing him. Over and over and over again until that air mattress was just a deflated extension of the wood floor beneath it.

・❥・

Dana’s hand rests on my thigh gently. My leg stops shaking. My mind doesn’t stop racing though.

I'm not an anxious person. If anything, I can be relaxed to a fault. But I am an intuitive person - and something is wrong.

Where is he?

“Relax. When is that man ever late?”

“That’s why I’m worried.”

You would think I didn't have my own license or car the way Jack insists on driving me everywhere. He tells me it is to keep our insurance from being sky high. I may or may not be a bit accident prone when behind the wheel. I tell him it's because he's obsessed with me. He always huffs a laugh and murmurs something about two things being true at once.

The Pitt makes sense. Ever since Jack started taking on more day shifts to balance out our conflicting schedules, a lot of times we are arriving and leaving here together. But on the off chance we are not, he is still picking me up. Always with some kind of treat in hand - usually a McDonalds Diet Coke much to Jack's dismay.

Jack takes the saying 'If you're not early - you're late' far more seriously than anyone I have ever met. The day shift typically gets off at 7 PM which means he is usually here to gossip with Robby on the roof by 6:35 PM.

“Go - take a case! He’ll be here to pick you up before you know it.”

My dissents are quickly met with Dana shooing me from the nurses station and personally squaring my shoulders to the board.

I haven’t even read the first name when Robby appears at my shoulder.

“Where is your fiancé?”

“Say that any louder and you’re going to be my next patient.”

“Yeah because you two are so inconspicuous with the whispering and the giggling and the big honking rock on your finger and the-“

“-disappearing to 'clean' the on-call room.” Dana finishes Robby’s sentence as they both double over in laughter.

Dana, Robby, and Collins are the only people in the ED that know about Jack and I’s relationship.

Collins knew I had feelings for Jack before I even let myself go there. Robby knew Jack had feelings for me before he let himself go there. So they took matters into their own hands.

Collins had a $100 on Jack breaking first. Robby $100 on me. And he had an extra $100 to spare when he bribed Dr Ellis to ask me to take her night shift for a week. Oh, how that backfired on him.

Three shifts later and Robby was $200 in the hole.

Six months later, I was moved out of my city apartment and into Jack's house.

Dana offered to drive me home after shift one night. Because it was cold and rainy and my apartment was close by. My apartment that I no longer lived in.

Jack wasn’t picking me up - he was out of town at a conference. I insisted on taking an uber, the bus, walking - anything that meant not explaining to Dana why my new address was the same as Dr Abbot's. She wouldn't take no for an answer and yelled "Oh, I knew it! Bridget owes me $100!" when I finally fessed up.

One year later, almost to the day that Robby had to pony up on his bet with Collins, I had an engagement ring on my finger.

Tonight, after he picks me up, Jack and I are going to pilates together.

It was only a matter of time before Robby and Collins gave it another go and I bet Jack that Robby would fold before Collins.

What's the point in betting money when we share a bank account? Seeing Jack in the pink pilates grippy socks he does not know I got him will be priceless.

“Well, when you find him please tell him that he is late for our date on the roof."

"Stop dragging him up there - you already have a date tonight!"

"Yeah, one in which I need his advice on."

"Oh please, you're talking to the wrong Abbot if you need advice on how to woo Collins." Dana interjects. Not everyone in the ED knows about Jack and I but they do know Heather and I are best friends.

"Oh, I wasn't aware you two had tied the knot already. Do you want me to change your name on the board? I can do that right now actually. Does HR know? It'll just take a moment-" Robby teases.

I grab the remote out of Robby's hands as he laughs, "Okay fine - go have your little roof date but do not take long!"

"Well, we'd already be done if he wasn't late. Where is he by the way? He is never late for anything.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me.”

I step forward, my elbows on the counter of the nurses station and my head now in my hands as I groan.

“Relax. It’s Jack - we couldn’t keep him away from this place even if we wanted to. Especially with you in here.” Robby squeezes my shoulder and is off to what I assume to be the roof.

I check my watch before I stand back up to scan the board for real this time - 6:50 PM.

Where is he?

I pull my phone from my pocket. There’s no new message from Jack lighting up my home screen but I open up our conversation anyways.

From Jack: I miss you

From Jack: I can’t believe Langdon is getting to hang out with you right now and not me

From Jack: If you stay at that damn hospital any longer we’re gonna have to start forwarding all these packages you order there

Little does he know one of those many packages holds his new pilates socks.

To Jack: Oh please - as if more than half aren’t all your little go bag gadgets

To Jack: And to think our colleagues think I’m the drama queen

“Incoming - Trauma 1!”

I’m happy for the distraction. I’m gowned, gloved, and ready to go before the patient is even rolled in.

The doors to Trauma 1 fly open - but not with a patient. Just Dana.

“I’m going to get Robby! You should not have to do this.” Dana is staring pointedly at me before she’s off. I don’t even get a chance to respond.

Weird. I know I’ve only been an attending for a couple months but Dana had more confidence in me on my first day as an intern than she did just now.

I now understand why as the patient is rolled in front of me.

There he is.

Unconscious. Cold. Clammy. And slightly bloody from a small cut on his forehead.

My world stops.

“Heart attack.” Langdon is here.

Somehow all I can think of is Jack’s text from earlier. I want to laugh but I can’t. What if I never get one again? I’m supposed to see him in pink pilates socks tonight. Not in a body bag.

“CLEAR!”

Suddenly all the pieces from the past couple days are coming together and I cannot believe I didn’t catch it sooner. Can’t believe he didn’t catch it sooner!

“CLEAR!”

His dizziness. The increase in massages of his amputated leg. The quick heart beat. The rash.

I hear the commotion around me. But I’m not processing any of it until it’s directed at me.

“I said CLEAR! Move!”

This cant be happening. So I decide that it’s not going to.

“No!” My voice comes out way more feeble than I meant. Way more feeble than anyone in this ED has ever heard me.

“Well I hope you enjoyed being Abbot’s favorite because you’re going to kill him and your career in one go.”

“Langdon - he is not having a heart attack.”

“Yes he is!”

“No he isn’t - take off his leg!”

“Take off his leg?! Okay, you’re literally going insane. And I’m supposed to report to you?! I know I went to rehab but oh my gosh - CLEAR!”

“I’m going to clear you out of this trauma bay if you do not get out of my way.”

You know how they say a new mom could lift a car off of her new born baby? I’m pretty sure that’s the phenomenon I am experiencing right now. I don’t exactly know what other worldly force is taking over me right now but I do not question it. I am watching myself from outside of my body as I spring into action.

I shove Langdon to the side as I lift up Jack’s pant leg to remove his prosthetic. The prosthetic that noone else in this room would’ve known he had.

He doesn’t keep it a secret but he doesn’t exactly advertise it either. Especially when he refuses to sit down on a double shift. Ironically enough, that’s probably why he is on this table.

I spot what I’m looking for immediately but Langdon is the one who speaks it out loud, “Pressure ulcer - he’s in septic shock.”

“Thanks for finally using your brain Dr Langdon but we’re going to be using mine from here on out.”

“Blood ox is 91.” Someone yells. I don’t know who. What I do know is that 91 is dangerously low.

“Scalpel.” I demand.

“What are you going to do?”

“We need to drain this fluid before his organs start to fail.”

The first and only time Jack taught me this procedure it was his save. Now it has to be mine.

I tell myself that one day we will be sitting in front of our engraved fireplace. Old. Like, actually old. Not the fake old that Jack tries to pretend he is. With kids and grandkids - telling them the story of how Jack saved his own life through the transitive property. So I better get to work.

“Scalpel. Now.”

Langdon slams the scalpel into my hand. I ignore the looks around the room. The looks that say ‘The only person qualified to perform something like this in an ED is the patient’.

“Your funeral. And his.” I ignore Langdon.

I must have cut the most perfect incisions of my life. Performed the most flawless procedure anyone has ever seen from me. I don’t remember any of it.

The loud beeping slows. His blood pressure rises. Then his blood oxygen. Then the bag I drained is full and being disposed of by Dana.

When did she get here?

Robby’s hand is on my shoulder, trying to pull me away.

When did he get here?

I hear him tell Whitaker to get a suture and close up the wound. Oh, the irony. Credit where credit is due - Whitaker has gotten much quicker under Jack’s patient teaching. Thank fucking goodness.

I think of the first real laugh I got out of Jack. My eyes start to tear up but I stop myself. I will hear that laugh again. Over and over and over again. So much so that I would get sick of it if that was even possible.

Robby is apologizing profusely into my ear. He has nothing to be sorry for. But I can’t manage any words. So I just let him move me out of Whittaker’s way but I do not leave Jack’s side.

I can’t seem to register anything beyond Jack’s face that I’m seemingly trying to force into consciousness with my stare alone.

“Where the hell did you learn that?”

My head turns to Whitaker at his question but it swivels so fast back to Jack I think I give myself whiplash. Because I don’t speak - he does.

“Solid work, doctor.”

I’ve never been happier to hear those words come out of his mouth.

“Oh my god.” My hand clamps over my mouth as my head dips to Jack’s chest, my arms wrapping around his shoulders.

My adrenaline tank plummets to zero and I am absolutely sobbing into Jack’s chest. Whatever was coursing through my veins during that procedure is coming out in what feels like gallons of tears and hiccups.

I don’t care who’s in the room. I don’t care that everyone is slack jawed and staring and so beyond confused. I don’t care that out of the corner of my eye I see Perlah slapping a $100 into Princess’s palm.

All I care is that Jack’s hand has found its way into my hair and when I place my shaking hand on top of it to make sure it’s real - it is. Even better - it’s warm and dexterous and alive.

He’s alive and he’s here.

He gently guides my head out of his chest. I lift my chin up to look at him - give him the eye contact I know he is seeking. That we both are.

“Baby - I’m okay. I’m okay, I’m safe, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice is as steady as ever. His heart beat matching it. The beat that was so faint what seems like moments ago.

I let it calm me down. I place a kiss to his chest and lean up to do the same to his forehead. My hand tangles in his salt and pepper curls as I hold his sweaty forehead to my lips and then bring my own forehead down to meet his. I close me eyes and breath him in.

He’s alive and he’s here.

“Welcome back, brother.” Robby manages to choke out through a couple tears of his own.

“Just wanted to make sure you guys weren’t getting lazy at the end of your shift.”

We all crack a smile but only Robby speaks, “Does this mean I have to work a double?”

“Not if you go park my car. It’s in the ambulance bay.”

I speak a full sentence for what feels like the first time in days, “You drove here?”

“We had a date. Plus, I wasn’t feeling quite right.” Jack nods down towards his amputated leg like it’s nothing but a minor inconvenience.

I dig into his pocket and toss Robby his keys. Robby calls for a CT and a room with a bed before ushering himself and everyone else out to give us some privacy.

“And how are you feeling now?”

“I’m feeling like I’d like to make the woman who just saved my life my wife.”

My hand immediately flies to the small cut on his forehead. The blood dry and crusty, “How hard did you hit your head? We’re already engaged.”

Jack chuckles, places his hand on mine and squeezes, “I barely hit my head when I fell out of the car. I’m fine - I just really don't want to live another moment without being able to call myself your husband.”

So we don’t. Not really anyways. I make Jack get every fucking scan in the book that I think we hit our insurance deductible in under an hour. He humors me by lying in the bed in one of the ER rooms as I pump a myriad of fluid and antibiotics into him.

After a few hours his blood oxygen is perfect. So is his blood pressure and his heart rate. I don’t think I’ve taken my eyes off of him once. Or my hands. Running my hands through his hair, caressing his forehead, squeezing his forearm. Just to reassure myself he is here.

He understands what I’m doing. Hears what I cannot say. He grabs my hand on its next pass through his hair and presses a kiss to every single knuckle before speaking, “Baby, I’m sorry I scared you. I scared myself honestly. But I promise, I am not going anywhere. Ever. And I am so sorry you had to go through that. You should have never had to operate on me. I don’t know how you did that. I mean if it was flipped. If I saw you come in like that-“

His voice falters, his bottom lip quivers and he pulls me into the tightest hug as we both begin to cry. I think if we could crawl into eachothers skin, we would.

We stay there like that for a while. Until Jack grabs my face, kisses every single part of it, then whispers “I love you so much but I think if you pump anymore fluid into me you’re going to water board me.”

As if on cue, Robby whips the curtain open, “To the roof we go!”

“You can’t be serious.”

Robby holds up some kind of certificate as Collins and Dana round the corner.

In the hours I spent nursing Jack back to health, I went to the bathroom one time. And only because I hadn’t gone the last four hours of my shift and I own a huge water bottle.

In that one bathroom break, Jack had managed to get Robby ordained online and enlisted Dana and Collins to ‘decorate’ the roof.

We’re still gonna have our wedding ceremony and the reception and the whole ordeal. But I agree with him - I can’t go another second not married to him. Not after today.

So we go up to the roof. Jack still in his hospital gown and me in my scrubs. Robby officiates, Dana sings because she can’t help herself, and Collins ‘witnesses’ which really means crying.

Jack is kissing me before Robby can even say, “You may kiss your bride.”

When we come up for air, Robby claps both of us on the back and says, “Solid work, you two.”

I just kiss my husband again. Because he is alive and he is here

595 notes View Post
m14mags
3 weeks ago

Blurb idea- Kid thinking she'll show off a bit when she takes Jack out dancing, but given how he's used to his prosthetic, he actually sweeps HER off her feet?

oh anon... yes. if you are a minor do not interact with this work. you fancy yourself a party girl-- brat green adorning your torso and leather jacket on your body, boots that stretch the expanse of your calf and a skirt that is short enough to make any decent man blush. it was javadi's 21st birthday, and of course, everyone decided they needed to show out. you didn't think abbot would come. you wanted him to, you prayed he would, but given the crowd and the noise and everything else... you didn't know. you certainly weren't going to push, or ask. after shift, all you said was, "i'm going to javadi's thing." he had hummed in response and pulled you back in to kiss when no one was watching. that was that. but then he showed up and you were already approximately three sheets to the wind. no one knows about you but everyone sees, and so you can't find it in yourself to care. everyone will be too hungover tomorrow to care, or remember, you tell yourself. collins smacks robby's arm as abbot stalks towards you with eyes the color of rich molasses. dark. dreamy. swoon worthy. you don't stop dancing, not for a moment. hands in the air, glitter on your cheekbone catching the lights. it's so loud and you're so drunk and you have envisioned this so many times when you laid in bed, and now it's real. jack's hands go to your waist instantly. you lean in and say into his ear, "i didn't think you were going to show." "i didn't know if i was either," he swallows. "but, fuck, kid. worth it to see you like this." "like what?" you ask with a coy smile and he groans. "sexy." he leans in and pushes your hair back, lips nearly ghosting your neck. "you're always sexy." when he starts to move, to dance, you feel surprise swelling up in yourself. you look at him with a nearly confused stare as he pulls your hips in and rolls them with his, so in sync that it makes something inside of you yearn to drag him off of this dance floor, and into the nearest restroom. "you never told me you could dance," you say while his hands slip up your shirt, your hand digging into the hair at the back of his head. "what, a man with one good leg can't cut a rug?" you groan and tilt your head back, letting out a cackling laugh. when you raise your head back up, your eyes are full of a certain sparkle and you fight the urge to kiss him. you recognize the same battle inside of him. so he settles on pulling you in closer, and dancing with you until your feet are so sore that he carries you to his truck, places you in the passenger seat, and removes your boots with meticulous care.

175 notes View Post
m14mags
7 months ago

Tony Starks Daughter- Series One~

Warnings: cussing, and Loki(lmao he needs a warning) 

Story Plotline: This is around age of Ultron, but its a little different Loki joins the avengers at Starks Tower to enjoy human life, one of his punishments, but he meets Tony Starks 21 year old daughter, but who very much like her father, but except was falling for Loki a little bit everyday.

Ps: So I know Loki, Scott Lang, or Spiderman is in age of Ultron but I just really love the dynamic, think of it as a secret universe telling the age of Ultron story, I hope you enjoy, I’m hoping to make this a long series so come long to enjoy this with me

word count:  4321

Tony Starks Daughter- Series One~

Being the daughter of Tony Stark was hard enough but being in the Avengers tower where they all treated you like a daughter was way worse. I was treated like a child most of the time when I was in fact 21 years old, so being treated like a child was the worst thing to feel as a 21 year old girl. I heard a soft knock on my door while I sat on my phone scrolling through my social media. 

“Yes?” I ask lifting my head a bit to look towards the door. Peter perks his head in smiling a bit.

“H-Hey Y/n, Mr. Stark told me to fetch you.” I scrunch my eyebrows confused. 

“Why didn’t he just ask Jarvis?” I usually ask if dad asked Jarvis to fetch me whenever it wasn’t so important but it must be serious if he asked Peter to fetch for me. 

“I-I don’t know Miss Stark he just asked me to fetch you.” Peter looked nervously at her.

“Peter you can call me Y/n I’ve told you this a million times kid.” I chuckled at the kid in front of me, he was definitely a shy one, but whenever his Spiderman came out he was more confident as Spiderman then peter parker. “Alright I’m coming I guess.” I mumble under my breath. Peter smiled confidently, opening the door for me. I head downstairs at dad’s little lair as I called it, even though he hated that I called it that “sounds like something for bad guys, and I definitely am not that Y/n” he would say each and everything time I said the name. “Hey dad, you asked for me?” I ask strutting into the room, hands in pocket. 

“Ah my beloved daughter, you’ve been trapped in your room, I just missed ya.” He says as he was building god knows what. 

“Alright dad, what do you need?” I giggled, rolling my eyes at my humorous dad. 

“Well, it’s not what I need, more like a warning daughter.” He stopped the humor and looked at me seriously. I cock my head to the side like a lost puppy.

“And that is?” I sit down on the chair next to him straddling the seat. 

“Well, Loki..” I wide my eyes mostly in anger, mostly in fear. 

“Loki?! Is he back?” I stood up from my chair picking at my cuticles. 

“No… I mean well yes but not like that, He’s going to be staying here, I’m not too fond of the idea, but Thor says he really is changing, that maybe normal human life would be good for him.” Dad says playing with his tools looking at her with concern. “I just want you to stay away from him, I have no idea if he’s changed or not, but I don’t want him around my daughter.” Dad strictly states putting his tools down and standing up.

“He’s changed? After ya know killing thousands of people, we’re just going to welcome him here after that?!” I exclaim rubbing my forehead a headache starting to form. “Dad I don’t know about this, how are we sure we’re going to trust him?” I turn my back on my dad still rubbing my forehead, it starts to hurt worse then it just did before. “Alright dad there shouldn’t be any problem staying away from him.. When is he coming?” My dad starts mumbling under his breath, I face him “Dad when is he coming?” Dad chuckled a bit, rubbing the back of his head. 

“Right now?” As he said that I heard a booming voice. 

“HEY GUYS LOOK MY BROTHER IS HERE TO ENJOY THE MORTAL WORLD!” I hear Thor boom. If looks could kill it would kill my dad. 

“I’ll yell at you later, we have to introduce a stupid God guest or whatever they’re called.” I scoffed my dad keeping his distance from me feeling the heat burn of my body with anger. I walk up with my dad back to the main living room. I cross my arms stomping like a child up the stairs… maybe that’s why everyone thinks I’m a child… 

“Oh looky what we have here Loki, we swear we missed you, especially since you left your mark on everyone here in New York.” My dad retorts. I widened my eyes at the low remark my dad made. I look up from the ground staring at the stupid go- oh my god, he was gorgeous. Fuck why did he do what he did. His hair was long silk black, he was tall and lanky, he wore this beautiful black suit that hugged his amazing figure. Loki looked up, locking eyes with my own. I tug at my sleeves a little taken back at his eyes, I couldn’t even look him straight in the eyes for some reason they imitated me. “I don’t know if you’ve met my daughter Y/n, but you are not to go anywhere near her, got me?” Loki crosses his arms, smirking slightly. My dad lifts his eyebrows, also crossing his arms walking closer to Loki. “Got me? Loki the emo.” Thor widens his eyes looking at the stance between the two, basically one trying to be more dominant then the other. 

“Alright alright, he understands, don’t ya brother!” Thor booms excited. Loki just nods, keeping quiet but observing the room around him. The whole crew eventually comes out greeting Loki, but keeping an eye on him. 

“Alright I think we should definitely have a party, with just us of course.” Scott Lang shouts grabbing the alcohol that was in my dad’s cabinets. “What ya say Stark! My dad was still glaring daggers at Loki, not 100% satisfied with Loki’s answer from earlier. 

“That’s fine but Y/n can’t join.” I whipped around from the conversation I was having with Natasha. 

“Um, is that your decision dad?” I quipped back at my father, I love him dearly but he really was a drama queen, huh I really did get my attitude from my dad. My dad lifts a questioning eyebrow at me. 

“You’re like 12.” Steve says, taking a swig of the beer that Scott handed him. 

“Steve! I’m 21 dude, at least I’m not like 100.” I sass Steve, doing a whole sassy head roll. 

“Wait, she’s 21?” Steve tries to remain serious but starts laughing when he takes another swing. “Ya know I’m only a joking doll.” I hum a bit swaying my hips moving towards the couch, didn’t realize I was sitting right next to Loki, damn was he quiet. 

“Hi, I’m Y/n.” I whispered while my dad was in a conversation with Thor, I knew I was supposed to stay away, and not really talk to him, but I was just being friendly. 

“Loki.” He states leaning back on the sofa. He just starts staring at me. “Why are you sitting next to me?” He asks, smirking a bit. I knew he was just trying to show his imitating side so nobody would talk to him or be near him, but I was of course used to my father being that imitating even though underneath all of that my dad was just a big old fluff ball. 

“I don’t know, you look interesting, I’m a curious person much like my father.” 

“Ah yes, Tony. I didn’t know he had a daughter. You in fact surprised me very much.” He states, damn this dude really just went straight to the point, which I didn’t really mind, straight to the point is better than oddly weird forced conversations. 

“Mhm, I am definitely a way better Stark.” I giggled a bit at the small smile he was forming on his face.

“Oh is that so?” Interesting.” My dad turned away from the Thor conversations to see Loki and I have a much enjoyable conversation. 

“Uh ah, this ain’t happening.” My dad squishes between Loki and I. “Y/n to your room now.” I groan a bit.

“I am a 21 year old adult, you still can’t make me go to my room.” 

“I said room, now, you live under my roof, Y/n Stark.” He pats my leg. “Now go.” I roll my eyes before standing up.

“Alright I’ll see you losers tomorrow, when you’re all hungover.” I smirked walking away into my room. God, I mean I did agree to not talk or be near Loki, but he was so interesting. He didn’t seem so terrible, I mean I think of New York and hate him, but I feel like deep down there’s something that nobody knows, I see a hurting man mostly, but I’m curious and I wanna dig deeper.

My throat starts getting dry in the middle of the night, god I hated getting up in the middle of the night just to hydrate god. I rolled out of my bed dragging my big snuggly blanket with me groggy walking out to the kitchen. I was so tired I didn’t see the figure standing in the kitchen. “Fuck!” I half screamed just noticing it was Loki standing there all mischievously drinking some water as well, guess we both had the same idea. 

“Oh hi Loki.” I groaned, desperately drinking the water I poured into my cup.  “Are you doing ok adjusting?” I question leaning back on the counter. 

“It’s better than a prison cell, so I’m doing better than I was.” He starts using his magic to play with his water. I smile at the stuff he was making with his magic. 

“That’s so cool…” I lean closer to him looking at his magic in detail, his magic was beautiful, it definitely is dangerous but beautiful as well. Loki looks down at me smiling a bit before quickly going back to his normal stoic look. 

“You mortals are too impressed by anything you see, hm?” He hums. 

“I just wish I had that kind of magic, I mean look around me, I have all these amazing people who literally save the world from danger with powers or with their talents, I just want to help people one day, and if I had that I would in an instant.” I grin and take my last sip of water. Loki looks down at the floor placing his cup down on the counter.

“My mother thought the same, she always used her powers for good… really was a disappointment of a son.” Loki sighs. I place my hand on Loki’s shoulder. 

“I highly doubt your mother is disappointed in you.” Loki looks up a bit through his hair that still stoic look on his face.

“Oh how would you know? You barely know me.” I shrug a bit knowing he was trying to cover his emotions by deflecting on me.

“Because I know parent’s, and your mom from what I’ve heard from Thor sounds like a lovely mother, I think she wanted best for you, you to love your life and make something out of it, now I know nothing about God’s, but that’s just what I think.” I place my cup in the sink, turning away from Loki about to walk off when I stop in my tracks and look at the broken man in my kitchen. “You’re always welcome to talk to me… I really do like to talk, so if you ever need someone here, I’m always here.” Loki somewhat smirks at the comment. 

“If you insist, love.” It rolled off his tongue somewhat easily, I bit my lip to stop the blush rushing up my face. I do a quick hum before rushing into my room. What did I get myself into…

“I know you were talking to him in the kitchen!” My dad screeches. I jolted awake my hair wild and I’m sure all over the place. 

“D-Dad.” I say tiredly I look at my phone groaning. “It’s literally 6:30AM!” I flop head back into my pillow before grabbing the pillow besides me placing it over my face, that was before my dad ripped it off my face.

“I said stay away and you apparently don’t listen.” I groan again, turning my back away from him.

“Another thing I get from you huh?” I remark glaring at the wall knowing my dad would get more upset if I glared at him.

“This is no time to joke Y/n, all I’m doing is protecting you.” I turn around to face him rolling my eyes so he can visually see.

“Dad he really doesn’t seem so terrible, he seems broken…” I say sitting up on my back against my bed frame. “I think he really wants to change, and be a better man God, I have no idea what to call him, whatever it doesn’t matter, I see it dad, please just trust me.” My dad grabs the chair on my desk bringing it close to my bed straddling the chair. 

“I just don’t want to see you hurt and I can see the attachment from a mile away.” I look down at my hands once again picking at my cuticles. God this was definitely a bad habit I needed to stop. 

“You can see that?” I ask my dad hums softly scratching at his beard. 

“I trust you kid, just please be careful, I’ll take him away if he does anything harmful to you, you come before anybody here, you got me?” I smile softly nodding a bit, he grabs my chin before kissing my forehead. “Now the team and I have a mission to attend to, Thor probably wants to celebrate tonight so be prepared for that.” I shake my head laughing at my favorite big god. 

“Alright sounds like a plan, be safe dad I love you 3000.” 

“No, I love you 3000.” He ruffles my hair. “Now go fix up you look like a zombie.” 

“Haha, go away.” I grab the bedsheets bringing them over my head groaning like a zombie, my dad starts laughing heading out the door. 

“Lazy ass.” 

“Everybody get their ass out here, we are going to partyyy.” I hear Thor boom, I walk just wearing simple black pants and a button down t-shirt. 

“Oh Thor, you look nice!” I exclaim, Thor chuckles, twirling his hammer around before placing it on the table. Everyone sits down, some start playing cards, some are drinking their hearts out after every mission. I swear they do this. Barton starts twirling his drumstick clearly drunk. 

“Dude, that is certainly a trick.” Barton says commenting on Thor’s hammer, Thor chuckles passing a drink to Steve sitting on the sofa next to him.

“Oh it’s certainly much more than that.” Barton starts laughing, pointing to the hammer imitating Thor’s voice. 

“He shall be worthy should the powwweerr.” he exclaims still pointing at the hammer in front of him  “Whatever man, it’s a trick!” Thor scoffs a bit knowing exactly what Barton got himself into.

“Oh I wouldn’t do that Barton.” I say sipping on my wine.

“Oh let him Y/n, please be my guest.” Thor says, pointing towards the hammer. Loki sneaks over and sits right next to me watching all these goons trying to pull on the hammer. 

“Even I’m a god, I wouldn’t embarrass myself like this.” Loki says, laughing a bit. Oh a laugh? He’s enjoying himself. I take another sip of my wine staring at Loki. 

“Once I tried myself to lift that hammer, but nah nothing.” I say bumping into Loki’s shoulder a bit in a teasing way. “And I think I’m pretty worthy.” Loki smiles again.

“I would think so too.” Loki mumbles under his breath. That’s when we all heard it, a blaring noise. I cover my ears.

“Dad what the hell is happening?!” I ask was that Jarvis? Did something happen? We all looked towards the clunky noise when I saw, wait is that Jarvis?

“Jarvis?” My dad asked playing his pad that controlled the place. He starts speaking some nonsense, about how he killed someone and all the crew questioning him. I stand up, Loki does as well grabbing my arm to put me behind him. Ultron sent him… what is happening right now. Loki grabs his daggers from his sleeve, Thor holds onto his hammer waiting for any attack that will happen. 

“I’m here on a mission.” Ultron says in his disgusting robotic voice.

“What mission?” Natasha says sternly. 

“Peace of our time.” Ultron says looking at everyone in the group when two other robots come out the wall, Steve kicks up the table to block the robots from coming towards him, Loki grabs me and pushes me towards the floor out of the way of danger. That’s when everything began, everyone started protecting and fighting. I haven’t seen them in action since New York, and god they were good at their job. 

“Stay here.” Loki puts me near the piano to stay away from the danger God. I wish I could help. I wasn’t trained, my dad never let me learn. That’s when one of Ultron’s army finds me and starts pointing his weapon arm at me, that’s when Steve grabs the thing and throws it away from me, Thor slamming his hammer down on it. I see my dad floating on top of the robots trying to break down the thing. 

“Get Y/n out of here now!” I groaned standing up. I needed to help, so I grabbed Steve’s shield. 

“Steve!” I throw the shield towards Steve when he slams it on the robot, my dad finally defeating the robot. 

“Well that was dramatic.” Ultron says wobbling away from the scene a bit. 

“Dad!” I run towards my dad who slumps himself on the stairs.

“Y/n I told you to get away.” My dad whispers. 

“I can’t, Loki tried but I can’t not just leave and not help.” I hold onto my dad glaring at Ultron.

“I’m sorry I know you mean well, you just didn’t think it through.” Steve starts walking forward towards Ultron but stops in his tracks when he starts speaking again. “You want to protect the world, but you don’t want it to change. How is humanity saved if it’s not allowed to evolve?” Ultron grabs the robot in front of him by the head. “With at ease with these puppets.” He crushes the head “There’s only one path to peace, the avengers extinction.” Thor grabs his hammer, throwing it at Ultron’s chest shattering him into pieces.

“Loki get her out of here.” Loki grabs me by the arm when I hear his words. 

“I had strings but now I’m free.” I gasp a bit looking at my dads worried face as Loki brings me to my room. He sits me down on my bed kneeling in front of me.

“Are you okay?” He asks, brushing his fingers lightly across my knuckles. I gasped at the contact nodding a bit. 

“I’m fine… but I didn’t do anything to help, I’m a failure.” I cross my arms, basically cuddling myself. “I need to train. I need to help.” Loki chuckles a bit, rubbing the back of his head. 

“I don’t think your father would be too fond of that idea.” I look up at Loki smirking, that’s when he looks at me eyes wide.

“No.” He states. 

“Come on please train me, my dad doesn’t need to know.” He groans, basically ripping his hair. I could tell he was scared that I didn’t even know how to protect myself in that position. 

“I’m already on your fathers bad list but now secretly training you. I don’t know love…” She grinned that word again. He only said it when he was vulnerable and it made my heart burst. Glad I can make him that way. 

“Please Loki. I want to protect myself and others if I have to. Please.” I beg. Loki looks into my puppy dog eyes sighing giving in. 

“Fine but we do this early in the morning before anybody else gets up. Got me? My way.” He demanded. I nodded. 

“How early is early?” I ask nicely but also scared for the answer. 

“5AM.” He sternly states “I’ll meet you in the morning love.” He smirks before walking out of my door and I couldn’t help but blush at the way he was being. I heard the door open again looking up to expect Loki but saw my dad walking through the door. 

“Dad!” I stand up wrapping my arms around his neck. 

“Are you okay kiddo?” My dad asks, wrapping me back into a hug smoothing my hair down. 

“I’m fine dad, are you okay?” I pull back looking at his busted lip. “Dad..”  He pulls away from me.

“Honey I’m fine, come on I’m Iron Man I’ve done worse to my face.” He smiles brightly at me.

“I wish I can help, fight alongside you guys, I hate that y'all need to protect me.” MY dad shakes his head putting his hand up to stop me from talking.

“No, I’m your father, that’s my job to protect you first, it’s too dangerous out there sweetie. I can’t have you out there fighting.” He rubs his forehead. 

“Dad… I need to lea-”

“No means no. Now get a decent sleep, we’ll talk tomorrow, I love you 3000 honey.” My dad stops me from talking any longer. He grabs my head kissing the top of it a bit longer than he usually does. “I will protect you as long as I can dove.” He messes up my hair before walking out. I sat down on my bed exhaling the breath I was holding in. He’s really not going to like me if he finds out about me training.

“Oh there she is late.” Loki exclaims. I exhaustingly walk into the training room, walking in with my black tights, and my black crop top. 

“Shut up.” I grumble under my breath, I look at Loki as he stares intensely at me. “What?” I question nervously twirling my hair before grabbing my hair and putting it in a bun to try to keep out of my face. 

“N-Nothing, I um.” Loki clears his throat. “Just thinking about what we were gonna get started with.” I lifted my brow at how difficult he was already being this morning. 

“Well probably some stretches?” I ask radiating a soft smile, he gives me a slight cheerful smile back.

“Uh yes, that we definitely have to start out with that.” We start stretching for a bit. “Come on, really stretch the body love, here.” Loki walks over to me standing behind me grabbing my arm and holding it across my body to really stretch out my arms, but I caught my breath when he starts to hold me close, of course he wasn’t intentionally doing it, but he was so close I could barely bear it. His face was close to mine, If I turned my head at him at all we would be inches away. No come on I needed to train instead of trying to bang some type of God…. but oh hell would that be amaz- no come we’re not doing this. I shake my head slightly not even realizing he stepped away from me and was trying to grab hold of my attention. 

“Alright first things first, some combat training. We’re going to start with just you hitting this, and then we’re actually going to combat, got it?” I nod my mouth still dry from the thoughts surrounding my head. 

“Y-Yes, got it.” I rub my arms walking closer to the punching bag starting out from what I knew but Loki shook his head.

“See I’m not even a fighter really, and I know how to punch better than that.” He laughed as he stood behind me grabbing my hips. “Keep these straight, don’t strain them so much, you lose a lot of power when you do, your form is so far amazing with hitting but you’re losing all your stamina.” He grabs my hips keeping them still, he keeps them placed for a little longer before moving his hands awkwardly. “You’re a Stark, you can do this.” Loki starts teaching me how to punch, kick, and all of the above before we actually get started on hand to hand combat. “Alright” We both got on the training mat. I can already feel the soreness overtaking my body. “This will be a bit harder but I promise I’ll go easy on you okay?” I scoffed, cracking my knuckles trying to show off my competitive side.

“No please don’t I need to train.” Loki smirks getting into his ready position.

“If you say so, love.” I died a little bit inside knowing he was trying to distract me. Loki lunges forward at me grabbing my arm and flipping me over, damn I was already beat. “Hm so easy or not?” I groaned holding onto my side that he slammed me on the mat. 

“Fuck you we’re doing this right.” I stand right back up dusting myself up. I lunge towards Loki and he once again does this a million others times until I start seeing his weak points, he always grabbed towards the same arm. 

“You wanna stop?” He asked teasingly. I grunt, throwing my head back also looking at him smirking a bit. 

“Hell no.” He lunges towards me again and as I was right going towards the same arm. I grab his other arm kicking his legs on balance until wrapping my legs around his dropping him down cradling him onto but barely inches to his face. I look into greenish blue eyes sucking in my breath as he does the same. I inch closer to his face right about to fully kiss this man I barely knew.  “Oh Stark isn’t going to like this.” I jumped up off Loki, looking up to see Natasha. Fuck. 

78 notes View Post
m14mags
2 years ago

Sweet Nothings

Sweet Nothings

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Y/n Seresin (Mitchell)

★ Fluff ❊ Angst ✓ Smut

Warnings: Infertility, Adoption, Dad!Jake, Teacher/Mom!Reader, Kindergarteners

N/A: I'm really excited to share this with you guys and updates should start soon. Follow my library for notifications and updates. (I no longer have a taglist.)

☑︎ Sweet Nothings

☑︎ Mrs. Seresin

☑︎ Mr. Lieutenant Sir

☑︎ What If

☑︎ That’s Not Appropriate

☑︎ Separation?

☑︎ This Is New

☑︎ I Want This

☑︎ Birthday For Two

☑︎ You’re a Chicken?

☑︎ What Do You Think?

☑︎ Ours

☑︎ The Seresin’s

1K notes View Post
m14mags
8 months ago

Death and the Lady: Chapter Seven: Chibs Telford x Reader

PREVIOUS CHAPTER FOUND HERE

Slightly NSFW 18+

TAG LIST:

@youngadult9016  @mrsfilipchibstelford @mamawiggers1980 @ravennaortiz @liveinsteadofdreaming @redwoodmaya

--------========

Chapter Seven: Unconventional

Y/N was thankful that Skeeter had been willing to allow her to borrow his Toyota pick up truck as she was quite sure the old hearse would not even manage to make the short thirty mile drive from Charming to Lodi. 

Although it should reasonably only take her a couple of hours to travel from the funeral home in Charming to Saint Elizabeth’s Institute in Lodi, Y/N was not willing to take the risk of anything happening to the old hearse. 

Given that her Acura was still in the care of TM Auto, and would be for a while at least according to Chibs, she was not looking to add another broken down vehicle to her problems. 

Skeeter had not seemed to mind her borrowing his truck for a few hours at the very least. He knew she’d been putting this off for far too long now. 

Y/N would be lying if she tried to claim she had not been tempted to use her lack of reliable transportation as a reason to avoid making this trip today, but she knew she’d been putting it off for far too long now. 

The last time she’d made the trip had been two Christmases ago when she’d visited home for the holidays.  

She adjusted her coat pulling it closed tighter against her body as she made her way through the long hallways of Saint Elizabeth’s. 

It was a plain looking building, a little dull to be honest. It was a large structure that looked very much like any other hospital. The sign out front simply stated Saint Elizabeth’s Institute and stated the year it had been established. 

The inside of the building felt sterile and always held an odor of bleach and an undertone of something quite unpleasant that someone had attempted to cover with lavender air freshener. The scent always gave Y/N a headache. 

The entire place actually made her feel ill. The building always felt far too cold even in the winter. The sparse furniture in the hallway and the lack of decor only added to the feeling of cold. The walls were all either white or a pale blue. She’d assumed the color choices were meant to be calming, but it just made her feel lethargic.

The overhead lights gave the hallway a far too bright tone and patients and nurses alike passed Y/N on occasion as she slowly made her way through the halls, though the patients for the most part seemed to be escorted by a nurse or some other aide.

Y/N cringed as she neared the hospital’s recreation room having been told by the nurse on hand that this would be the best place to visit with her brother.

Lunch had ended not long ago and medications had just been given out. Most of the hospital’s residents were in their rooms or off to their daily therapy sessions. Y/N had been told simply to head to the recreation room and a nurse would fetch Daniel and bring him to her.

She sighed as she reached the room trying not to cringe as she took a seat in a plastic chair by a small table. She’d never grow accustomed to the strange furniture in the institute. It was all plastic and mostly bolted down to the floor.

She knew the reasoning of course; some patients might be prone to violent fits and it wasn’t wise to have heavy furniture that was not attached to the floor. A nurse had reassured Y/N, the first time she’d noticed the strange furniture, that it was intended both for the safety of the staff and residents alike.

The recreation room didn’t seem to have much for recreation. There was a television which was bolted up high against the wall, a few board games in a cabinet, a few books and magazines, and a few jigsaw puzzles. Y/N guessed that the staff kept most of the recreation locked away until it was time to use it. 

Y/N adjusted the visitors badge that had been attached to her coat, briefly debating taking the coat off but deciding against it as she noticed a chill to the air as the air conditioner switched on making the cold space all the more icy.

She shifted in her seat crossing and uncrossing her legs. She frowned slightly regretting not wearing something more casual. 

She’d chosen to wear an outfit she might usually wear at work; a black dress, tights, a dark coat, and a pair of black ballet flats. 

She was technically making this trip during a work-day after all, so she’d dressed for the work day.

She sighed, staring down at her hands as she placed them on the table in front of her. She resisted the urge to pull out the pocket mirror she carried in her purse and check her appearance. She silently debated if she should have worn her makeup a little lighter. The darker lipstick most likely made her look all too much like a woman in her late twenties instead of the girl Daniel at times remembered her as being.

A voice in the back of her head warned her that Daniel might not entirely recognize her today, though she’d been told by the nurse that he was having a good memory day.

Y/N knew that most of the time though Daniel most likely still pictured her as that eighteen year old girl with a nostril piercing and an honestly peachy tone of pink hair that had faded over the summer, her roots all too noticeable. He remembered her as she’d been back when he was 24 years old, the year he’d had his accident.

She knew she’d grown since then. She no longer appeared to be that rebellious punky teen girl. She looked like an elegant young lady. 

It felt strange to realize that though she was the younger sibling it felt as though she'd somehow taken the role of the older sibling. She was older now than her brother had been when he'd had his accident.

She was certain her more professional adult look might seem alarming to him if his memory happened to be struggling that day.

Y/N wouldn’t lie, at times she feared that a day would come where Daniel would no longer recognize her as his sister. As they grew older she knew her appearance would change all the more. 

The doctors didn’t seem to have any clear answers as to whether his memory would decline further with his head injury. For the most part she felt that the doctors seemed to stick to the line that no head injury was exactly alike. She’d heard the promise that they would monitor his symptoms but only time would tell what the future held for him. 

All they knew was that her brother struggled with his impulse control, his emotional control, and occasionally short term memory. He also struggled with self-care; remembering to do something as simple as bathing and brushing his teeth. Then there was the issue of the seizures, though they were rare. 

The medications he took were meant to control the seizures as well as his emotional outbursts.

For the most part Y/N felt that the medications only made him drowsy and slow. They’d caused him to put on weight as they increased his appetite. That was why he would not stay on them if he was left to his own devices. He didn’t like how they made him feel, but without them his symptoms only worsened. 

She knew that because of all of these issues that the hospitalization was necessary. It didn’t stop her from feeling guilty as hell though.

She tried to appear as though she was carefree as the nurse she’d spoken to entered the room guiding her brother over to the table.

Y/N hesitated to reach for him as he was sat down at the table across from her. She always feared touching him first, almost certain that one day he would only see her as a stranger.

Her brother was clean shaven; it was a stark contrast to how he’d been before the accident. He usually always wore some scruff. His hair was no longer shaggy the same way he’d once kept it; instead it was cut shorter than he’d ever keep it if it was entirely up to him. He seemed far too pale and the dark circles under his eyes were far too noticeable. He was wearing the same thing he usually wore each time she saw him; gray sweatpants and a white t- shirt with socks and houseshoes. 

He was at least clean; the staff made sure he bathed. 

Y/N at least made sure to send him clothing as often as she could, always initialing the tags with his name so that it would hopefully not be misplaced when the laundry was done. The hospital bracelet he wore on his wrist alerted staff of his name and his level of care along with some other information. The print was always too fine to read without making her feel like she had to strain her eyes. 

She was relieved as he seemed to recognize her after a moment of uncertainty. He spoke his voice a raspy sluggish tone as his hand reached out for hers. “What are you doing here?”

Y/N spoke her voice soft as she tried to pretend the nurse wasn’t lingering nearby clearly monitoring the situation. “I was in the area. I thought I’d come for a visit.”

“Is dad here too?” The question spilled from Daniel’s lips Y/N doing all she could not to outwardly grimace.

Telling her brother that their father was dead was not something that had stuck in his memory. He went back and forth between remembering their father was dead to forgetting it entirely.

His doctors had advised her not to tell him that their father was dead during the times he seemed to forget. It was too upsetting to him, she’d been told. It would only make him relive the fresh grief over and over again.

“No, he couldn’t make it…work is busy. Skeeter and he had a big funeral they had to prep for.” Y/N lied through her teeth hating that it had to be like this.

She knew it was the best case scenario of course. It was cruel to keep making him relive that grief in times like this.

However it was difficult to pretend that their father wasn’t dead and buried in Charming’s cemetery where he’d been for months now. She knew well enough he was dead. She’d embalmed his body at his request in his final wishes. She’d chosen the casket and the flowers as well as the pamphlets for the funeral. She’d found a minister to speak at his funeral. She’d written the obituary and paid to have it posted in Charming’s local newspaper. She had stood in a receiving line for mourners playing the role of the bereaved instead of the funeral director. She’d had to take on the emotional and financial burden of the funeral. She had to read his will and realize her life was changed forever. 

She had to do it all by herself, and now she had to carry on this act pretending that none of that emotional turmoil had happened. 

Daniel twisted his lips, his brow furrowing. “He’s mad at me.”

“Why would you say that, sweetheart?” Y/N asked managing to give his hand a gentle squeeze trying to keep her voice level.

She winced a voice in the back of her head taunting her that she was an awful sister, lying to her brother carrying on this charade that their father was alive.

Daniel scoffed at the question, his brow furrowing further. “I don’t know…he’s just mad at me. I must have done something awful. That's why he never visits.”

Y/N sighed that cruel voice in the back of her head insisting if their father was still living and had any reason to be mad at anyone then she would probably be the one in deep shit at the moment given her current ties to SAMCRO. She was quite sure she would be the reigning champion of being the family disappointment at the moment. 

She pushed the thought from her mind, her voice cracking somewhat as she struggled not to start crying. “That isn’t true, my darling. He’s not mad at you. He loves you very much. He loves both of us more than we know. Even if we upset him, he’d never deny us that love. You know he’s always been there for us…even when we mess up. That’s the kind of dad he is. Remember that time I broke that brand new urn that we had in the display room because I kept playing in the display room after he told me not to. He was so upset but he didn’t even yell or spank me. It was a super expensive urn too…uh had the gold edges to it…it probably cost a fortune, but he only gave me a firm talking to and didn’t make me feel bad for it for too long. I was barely grounded. You know dad’s heart. He wears it on his sleeve. Even if you upset him, he wouldn’t be a jerk about it.”

She paused, taking a deep breath once again lying through her teeth. “You know how he is, Danny. He’s a workaholic. Once he gets caught up with work there’s no pulling him away. I’m sure he’s going to visit soon…maybe once work slows down.”

“When can I go home? I want to go home.” Daniel remarked, apparently moving on from the subject of their father on to another difficult subject.

She sighed, shaking her head, not surprised by the choice in subject. They had this talk often and it was always difficult.  “I don’t know when, Danny. You’re still not well. You have to stay here a little longer. Just until you get better. I know it’s hard, but you have to stay here a little longer.”

“I feel fine though. I feel okay, I just want to go home. Please, Y/N take me home.” He insisted his voice cracking, he squeezing her hand almost hard enough it hurt.

She took a deep breath shaking her head, a stray tear working its way down her cheek. She wiped it quickly with her free hand. “I can’t. I wish I could, but I can’t…not yet.”

“Why not?” He snapped, squeezing her hand even harder enough to make her flinch the pain shooting through her nerve endings.

She sighed as the nurse stepped forward ready to step into action if things got too out of hand. 

She spoke, taking a deep breath. “Because you aren’t well. I know you think you feel fine, but you aren’t ready to go home yet. Just be patient, sweetheart.”

“It’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to stay here.” He snapped again his grip on her hand not loosening even slightly.

She took another deep breath, shooting the nurse a glance of reassurance before she spoke again. “I know. I’m so sorry. I would take you home if I could, in a heartbeat. We have to wait though.”

She spoke again trying to distract him knowing it was the best method to take when he got worked up like this. “In the meantime try to find things to keep you busy. The grounds here are nice, aren’t they? I saw some flower beds the last time I was here. I know you like going outside and seeing them when it's nice out. You should see the greenhouse back home. The tomatoes and cucumbers are getting big…the strawberries are looking good too. I can bring you some strawberries next time, if they’ll let me. You like those right? The strawberries were always your favorite. I know you didn’t care much for the gardening part of it…except for that time you grew that marijuana plant that you tried to hide behind my tomato plant. I was so annoyed when I found it…and it didn’t really work anyway because you couldn’t keep enough light on it to actually do anything. Remember that?”

“I don’t care, I want to go home.” Daniel snapped at her squeezing all the harder she audibly letting out a gasp the pain becoming a little too much to ignore.

With this the nurse stepped forward two orderlies seeming to appear out of nowhere.

Y/N cringed as her brother was yanked from her by two large orderlies while fighting against the pull. She held her aching hand trying to ignore the pain and keep her voice soothing as she spoke to him. “Daniel, please. Don’t fight them. Just take a deep breath and calm down. It’s okay, just calm down, please, my darling.”

Of course, her soothing did little good, her brother struggling against the hold. Y/N shrank away as the nurse stepped forward placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ve got this handled, Miss. Y/L/N. Don’t worry. We’re going to give him something to relax him.”

Y/N parted her lips tempted to snap that she didn’t want him doped up more than he already was, but she kept the words at bay

She turned her eyes to the floor feeling helpless as the nurse guided her from the room. She felt the tears begin to fall at the words that were shouted at her by her big brother as she left the room. “I hate you! I don’t want you to come back! I hate you!”

—---

She didn’t allow the tears to fully fall until she left the building, practically collapsing against a bench on the walkway up to the entrance.

She took a deep breath trying her best to keep her composure as she wiped at her eyes furiously. 

She was thankful that there were seemingly no other visitors nearby though she had a feeling if there were they would not pay her any mind. She had a feeling her reaction was a normal one for those visiting loved ones at the institution.

She took another deep breath trying hard to push the last words she’d heard her brother say from her mind.

She knew he didn’t mean them, not really. That was the thing about his condition. The filter that should stop him from saying the first thing that came to his mind just didn’t exist anymore.

Y/N stared down at her purse, opening it and searching through it for the travel sized container of tissues she always carried, her hands brushing across her cell phone.

She was stunned as a thought crossed her mind; she wanted Filip.

It felt odd to admit, even if it was only in her head.

It had been a few weeks since that date they’d had and surprisingly Chibs had called her loyally every single day. Although the calls were never quite at the same time each day, they still managed to be a daily occurrence.

It was strange to admit that she’d found some comfort in the calls.

The calls were something she actually found herself looking forward to.

It was almost funny to consider how a few weeks before she had just wanted her admittedly criminally prone Scottish admirer to get lost, but now she happily anticipated the daily phone conversations they had.

She was a bit surprised that he had not pushed her to plan the second date she’d promised him. A small part of her had to wonder if perhaps he was waiting on her to make the next move. It felt almost amusing to consider that the scary outlaw was feeling nervous and waiting for her to make the next move. 

The phone conversations they'd had felt light, especially considering the way she’d practically dumped her past traumas into his lap on that first date.

They’d talked about their days, Y/N discussing whichever body she was prepping or her frustrations with the local florist who was always screwing up orders for funeral flowers. He’d talk about something dumb Half-Sack or Juice had done and a bike or car he was working on at the garage.

She’d found that she liked the clear sense of adoration she heard in his voice when he discussed his brothers even when he called them idiots. She’d also discovered that she liked the passion in his voice when he talked about whatever motorcycle he was repairing. 

She’d enjoyed listening to him discuss a terrible but healthy smoothie Juice had tried to get him to drink or something truly awkward Half-Sack had managed to say right in front of Clay. 

She was surprised to find that Chibs made her laugh. Even when she was stuck in the gloom of embalming a difficult case that felt honestly depressing; she was able to place Chibs on speaker phone and feel some sense of light through the gloom. 

The conversations had felt easy with him though they hadn’t necessarily been deep conversations.

It still felt nice; discussing her day with someone. It wasn’t something she’d had with someone in a very very long time.

She was stunned to admit that she had found a sense of comfort with Chibs. It was such a contradiction when she said it outloud; the dangerous outlaw biker felt comforting. 

She was surprised to find that he was sweet; it was something she’d not expected. She knew no one would believe her. It sounded like another huge contradiction; the admitted criminal was sweet.

She wasn’t naive of course. She knew that Chibs most likely had a side to himself that was far from sweet. She was aware enough to know that he had most likely done horrible things in the past and was capable of doing terrible things in the future.

It was a simple fact that she was surprised failed to invoke fear in her. If anything, a voice in the back of her head was quick to remind her that she’d done a few awful things of her own lately…even if those awful things were at SAMCRO’s request.

That voice in the back of her head still taunted her of course that Chibs would only lead her back to being the unhappy girl she was living in the chaos of SAMCRO. The voice was all quick to call Chibs a devil who’d tempt her back into being in that dark place she’d been in almost a decade before. The voice insisted he’d lead her right back into hell. It reminded her of something her grandmother used to say; you can’t dance with the devil and then keep wondering why you’re in hell. 

Another voice snapped that it was hard to believe she would be unhappy though. She certainly didn’t feel unhappy around him. Being around him didn’t feel like she was in hell. Sure, she was aware that the world he existed in came with a level of chaos. 

She reasoned that in a way she had already signed herself back up for that chaos. She’d signed herself up for it the second she’d agreed to help SAMCRO out and had insisted she would be their new funeral home contact for future favors.

She had asked the devil to dance first hadn’t she?

She was still surprised she’d felt so comfortable explaining everything with her brother and dumping some of her childhood traumas onto Chibs. She was even more surprised that he’d not run screaming.

Y/N could admit she’d not exactly been open about the darker aspects of her childhood and teen years with past boyfriends.

She had only mentioned that she’d been raised in a funeral home and her brother was special needs. She’d casually mentioned she’d been rebellious at one point in her life not going into too much detail.

With Chibs, she’d realized that he’d find out the reality of her brother eventually. If she didn’t say something, surely someone around town would mention it. 

She’d guessed telling him herself would at least let her control the narrative. At least if it came from her lips then he’d get the truth and not whatever wild tale he might hear from someone else.

Somehow even with the truth about her brother and the darker aspects of her childhood, Chibs had not seemed to shy away.

It was something she was astonished by. She was accustomed to people leaving when she was too much.

She’d more often than not been told she was too exhausting to be around. She’d more than often been referenced to as being difficult by boyfriends and friends alike. She was too morbid, too snarky, too moody, and just flat out too much to put up with for the long-term.

Chibs didn’t seem to think that she was too much.

So maybe that was why she reached for her cell phone dialing the familiar number.

She let out a breath she’d not even realized she’d been holding at the sound of his voice on the other end of the line. “Hen, I was jus’ thinkin’ bout ya.”

She managed to feel a small tight smile cross her features at the statement. She was no longer tempted to tell him that he was full of shit and just trying to flatter his way into her pants.

He’d often started out the phone calls he made to her the same way I wanted to call because I was thinking about you.

It felt nice to believe that he thought about her enough to want to hear her voice.

She managed to speak grimacing as she realized her voice felt as weepy as she felt. “Hey.”

“What’s wrong? Ya sound rough, lass.” The concern was evident in his voice. She could distinctly hear the sounds of the garage in the background hinting he was at TM Auto.

The noise grew fainter indicating he seemed to be moving further from the garage most likely wanting to find some privacy for their conversation.

“I just…I’m out in Lodi…visiting my brother.” She admitted staring down at her lap the stark black of her clothing looking inky and harsh against the pale concrete below her feet.

“Aye, wasn’t a good visit I’m guessin’?” Chibs was fast to respond that concern still so clear in his voice.

She let out a weak laugh shaking her head as she responded. “No, no it wasn’t”

Chibs was fast to speak his voice taking a softer tone, the sound feeling soothing. “Ya wanna talk ‘bout it?” 

“I kind of want a good stiff drink to be honest…but uh…yeah…I mean, it’s just difficult. He doesn’t remember our dad is…gone…and he doesn’t get why he can’t go home. It’s just…it’s a shit situation. The last thing he said before I left was that he hates me and never wants me to come back.” She remarked a shaky sigh leaving her, her eyes still focused on the pavement below her trying hard to not let herself break down again.

“Oh, Hen, ya know that ain’ true righ’. He doesn’ mean it. He’s jus’...confused, love. Yer his sister. He loves ya.” was the reply she received. She was a bit surprised to hear a hint of shakiness in his own voice.

“I know, I know…he’s no longer has the ability to stop himself from saying the first thing that comes to his mind…I mean most people if they’re upset might first think they hate someone…but usually that filter in their head will stop them from just blurting that out…his filter…it just doesn’t do what it should. I just hate it…today was allegedly supposed to be a good memory day too…so much for that.” She remarked another shaky sigh escaping her lips.

She swallowed the lump developing in the back of her throat before she spoke again not having it in her to hate how needy her voice sounded. “Can you talk to me about something different…anything? Something nice?”

She was surprised by the response she got. “Ya ever had shortbread? Scottish Shortbread?”

“Uh, I mean…I’ve had shortbread cookies…from the grocery store.” She admitted, a bit thrown off by the conversation choice, but she had requested that he talk about literally anything else other than her current situation.

She rolled her eyes, unable to stop the hint of a genuine smile from crossing her lips at his quick reply. “Nah, not that. That’s pure shite, Hen. Leave that grocery store prepackaged stuff alone. I’m talkin’ real Scottish shortbread.”

“I guess, I’ve never had it then. What’s so special about it?” She dared to ask the misery she felt a moment before lifting by the second.

Chibs didn’t waste a moment to reply. “It’s amazin’, one of my favorites. My ma used to make it the best…I can’ get hers round here of course. The trick is ya gotta have it fresh, with tea or milk on the side. I’m gettin’ ya some real shortbread. Ya gotta try it at leas’ once.”

She spoke, shaking her head the words falling from her lips. “Maybe you should take me to get some then. I apparently need to see what I’m missing.”

“Aye, ya askin’ me out on a date, Hen?” The response came so naturally a flirty tone entering his voice.

She smirked it not taking her long to answer. “I am…and I won’t even bribe you with car repairs.”

She felt as though the misery she’d felt just moments ago was long gone as Chibs managed to laugh at the response he fast to respond. “Aye, ya don’ gotta bribe me to take ya out, love.”

She shook her head ignoring the cruel voice in the back of her head that claimed she belonged locked up right alongside her brother if she was agreeing to another date.

She distinctly remembered the comment Gemma had made the day she’d given Y/N a ride home. It's never just one date.

It would seem indeed that it was not destined to be just one date.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chibs sighed, his stomach churning as Tig gazed up at him as he passed by the bar in SAMCRO’s clubhouse. “You going to see Y/N again?”

Chibs let out a huff knowing that the cologne he’d put on had most likely given him away. He’d only worn it once afterall the last time he’d taken Y/N out. He was certain Juice must have blabbed his big mouth all about Chibs’ big date and the effort he’d put into his appearance for said date . “Aye, I am.”

“You’ve been talking to her a lot lately. Lots of phone calls.” Tig observed the comment making Chibs feel uneasy.

“Aye.” He kept the response short, shifting the box of shortbread he’d rode out to pick up from a bakery early this morning before they had a chance to sell out.

It wasn’t his mother’s shortbread but it was the closest thing he could find all the way out in California.

“So, you hitting that?” Tig dared to ask, Chibs narrowing his eyes at the question, his free hand that wasn’t holding the box of cookies forming a fist.

He pushed back the desire to throw a punch as he replied. “Ain’ none of yer business.”

Tig smirked, clearly spotting he’d maybe struck a nerve with his brother. Occasionally he could admit he liked pushing his brothers’ buttons…mostly out of boredom.

He’d taken notice of course, that Chibs had been skipping out on Friday night parties and had definitely been neglecting the croweaters.

There was only one possible thing keeping Chibs so distracted. He’d definitely noticed the little looks Chibs had sent SAMCRO’s new asset that night at the crematorium. 

Tig didn’t particularly care to be honest. He was struck by a sense of curiosity though.

He had been around almost a decade before when Y/N had been a frequent visitor to the clubhouse. He could remember the mouthy girl who had been more than willing to drink and smoke a joint. He could also distinctly remember that she’d been less than interested in letting him in her pants….and he’d tried quite hard to charm his way into them.

He could admit it was a bit of a knock to the ego to think that Chibs might very well be traversing territory Tig had failed to explore. He had to admit he felt envious of the Scot.

Tig shook his head. “Just saying, brother. Be careful with that one. She knows a million ways to get rid of a body. I wouldn’t piss her off.”

“Ya ain’ got nothin to worry bout.” Chibs snapped thinking back to the tense conversation he’d had with Clay before that first date he’d had with Y/N.

Tig shook his head a sigh leaving him not helping but to prod a little more even if he knew his next statement was an asshole move. He could admit that a sense of jealousy was maybe pushing him to run his mouth. “I’m guessing little Miss. Death doesn’t know about your wife back in Belfast…pretty sure you’d already be in a casket somewhere if she did. Didn’t think she’d be cool with being a mistress. I mean, she was wild back in the day, tight as hell and a great set of tits from what I heard too, but she still had some moral backbone.”

Chibs moved forward, his fist partially raising but he didn’t have a chance to get far, Juice taking enough notice to step in between Chibs and Tig. Juice maneuvered Chibs away quick to speak. “Let’s take a walk man, come on.”

“Ya keep yer fuckin mouth shut bout her. Ya don’ know what yer talkin bout.” Chibs snapped sending a warning glare at Tig's direction as Juice pushed him away.

Chibs yanked from Juice’s attempts he glaring down at the younger man. “I don’ need a fuckin’ walk. Ya tell that prick if he ever mentions her body or calls her a mistress again I’ll fuckin’ bash his head in.”

Juice groaned as he watched Chibs storm off towards his bike. He rolled his eyes as Tig approached him, the man shrugging his shoulders apparently not minding the death threat. “Was it something I said?”

Juice shook his head as he watched Chibs ride off. He sent Tig a look he speaking. “Really?”

Tig shrugged, playing innocent. “I’m just looking out for him. She finds out about his wife, he’s dead meat. Not to mention, if he pisses her off real good then we lose our funeral home contact.”

Juice shook his head, not responding as he made his way back into the clubhouse. He had to hope that if Chibs continued whatever he had going on with Y/N that he explained his complex past and she didn’t murder him.  

Even with as crude as Tig had been, Chibs most likely would be buried alive if he kept that tidbit of information from Y/N.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N sighed as a firm knock sounded at her office door, cracking slightly Skeeter’s head barely peeking in. 

The man spoke, his eyes rolling ever so slightly at the information he was about to share with his boss. “You have a gentleman caller.”

Chibs frowned, unable to see past Skeeter as Y/N let out a groan from behind the half closed door. “I can’t decide if that’s worse than calling him the outlaw biker. It sounds less panic inducing to anyone that might overhear it, but it makes me sound like I’m some sort of freaking Southern Belle.”

She paused before speaking again. “Well, let him in.”

Skeeter did as he was told though he looked as though he’d much rather deny Chibs entry. Chibs didn’t miss the stern look of disapproval as he passed by the mortician.

Y/N spoke, spotting that Skeeter was still lingering. “You can go, Skeet. I promise I’m fine all on my lonesome.”

Chibs didn’t miss the glare Skeeter sent his way before he shut the door behind him.

He took a deep breath trying to calm any rage that was still lingering around in his gut after his confrontation with Tig. He refused to let her see the enraged parts of him.

He studied her, the sight of her soothing him. She was dressed in another work outfit, another black dress similar to the one he’d seen her wear the first time he’d come to the funeral home.

He had to wonder how many black dresses she owned. He had a feeling it had to be quite a few.

She pushed back her chair standing up from her desk and rounded it as she made her way over to him.

She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, the action soothing him further. She spoke, spotting the tension practically vibrating off him. ‘Are you okay? You seem…agitated.”

Chibs did his best to give her a smile though he knew it came out as more of a grimace. “Jus’ Tig bein a fuckin’ prick.”

She let out a small bitter laugh rolling her eyes at the comment. “I guess he hasn’t changed much in my time away.”

Chibs took a deep breath tempted to ask her if she’d ever been intimate with Tig, but he bit his tongue.

He had a feeling she’d not given Tig had only commented on what he’d heard about her.

Chibs silently reminded himself that he didn’t care what her past with SAMCRO was. She had said it herself. She was no longer a club hangaround.

A possessive little voice piped up in the back of Chibs’ head insisting she was his now. Another voice piped up that he’d meant what he’d said to Tig. He’d kill the man if he ever commented on her body ever again. He didn’t care if the man was his brother, he’d bash his face in. 

He took a few more deep breaths trying to calm himself. 

Another thing Tig had said had troubled Chibs; the mention of Fiona. It was something Chibs knew would have to come up sooner than later.

Chibs knew Tig was right about one thing…if he kept that part of his past hidden from Y/N she’d probably shove him in the ground. In fact, Chibs was sure that if he withheld this information from her then Y/N would bury him so deep that the devil himself would need a shovel to dig him back up again.

He took a deep breath holding out the box of shortbread he’d gotten; he was no longer as giddy about presenting it to her as he’d been moments before. “I got ya somethin.”

She took it from him, a soft laugh leaving her becoming distracted from his clearly tense mood. “Shortbread. I’m supposed to drink it with tea right, or milk?”

“Aye, whichever ya want. Try it tonigh’ and let me know what ya think.” Chibs replied, his strained mood fading by the second. 

She placed the box on her desk giving him a soft smile. “You didn’t have to come all the way over here just to give me some cookies.”

“Aye, I wanted to…I was hopin’ I could take ya out fer lunch too.” Chibs insisted, having made up his mind on the way to the Funeral Home.

He had to come clean about his past. He had to open up and pray she didn’t hate his guts or assume he was attempting to make her into the other woman.

She gave him a soft smile nodding down to her clothing. “Do you mind if I change shoes? I don’t think heels are a smart idea on the back of a bike.”

He nodded his head trying his best to give her a smile and hide the anxiety beginning to bubble in his stomach. “Aye, heels are probably not a good idea, Hen. I’ll wait on ya.”

She pressed another kiss to his cheek, that warm feeling washing over him again soothing a bit more of his agitation and anxiety.

He watched her leave the room, taking a deep breath as he dropped down into one of the chairs across from her desk.

He stared around the office studying the multitude of items. He clasped his hands together spotting a thick binder sitting on a shelf behind her desk that was labeled casket catalog 2007-2008.

He prayed to any God that might be listening that she wouldn’t shove him in any of those caskets after he broke the news about the life he’d been banished from in Belfast.

Chibs tried to find something less distressing to focus on. His eyes caught a photo on the wall it lifting his spirits momentarily. 

He barely recognized Y/N in the photo. She was so young, clearly barely a teenager. He could distinctly spot a pair of braces on her teeth and a t-shirt emblazoned with Charming’s nearest high school’s mascot. He guessed that perhaps it was a photo leftover from when the office had belonged to her father.

Another photo was framed beside it. Y/N was even younger in this one sat on the front porch of the Funeral Home with a little boy beside her. She looked quite miserable in the soft pink dress she was wearing judging by the clear scowl fixed into her little features. He felt his stomach turn realizing the boy sitting beside her had to be her older brother.

He sighed thinking back to the phone call they’d had the day before after she visited her brother, hoping he wasn’t about to give her another reason to cry. 

He didn’t have long to focus on the fear as the office door opened the object of his adoration reentering the room, a pair of black converse on her feet and a dark coat over her dress.

She spoke nodding to him. “Okay, I’m ready when you are.”

He stood up taking her hand in his once again praying to anyone who might happen to be listening that he wasn’t about to lose the woman he’d just barely managed to start winning over.

—---------------------------------------------------

The taco stand was a bit of a surprise. Y/N didn’t think much of it though, deciding that she was just happy to have a second date with Chibs even if it was a little more spontaneous than she’d expected.

They sat outside on benches the weather thankfully not cool enough for the outdoor space to feel uncomfortable. They seemed to be the only patrons at this stand and she hoped that this wasn’t a sign of the quality of their meal. 

Chibs himself was debating if the taco truck was the best plan. He’d decided that an outdoor space was probably best for the bombshell he was about to drop on her. 

He sighed as she spoke, raising an eyebrow at him taking notice of the fact that he seemed distracted. He’d not even touched his food yet and had seemed dazed as he’d ordered. “Are you sure everything is okay? I mean, how bad did Tig piss you off?”

She cringed worrying that she was pushing it. She imagined it had something to do with the club. She wasn’t sure if they were at the level where Chibs was going to be that open with her about anything related to the club despite her partnership with SAMCRO as a provider of favors.

Chibs let out another sigh deciding he wouldn’t repeat exactly what Tig had said. He had a feeling she’d probably kill the man for commenting on her body in that crude of a manner especially in relation to her past. “He’s jus’ an arse sometimes. It’s jus…I got somthin to tell ya.”

She felt her stomach roll hating that statement. It sounded so ominous. “What’s going on?”

Chibs sighed, deciding to ease into this. “I know I ain’ told ya much bout my family.”

Y/N spoke her cheeks flushing the words falling from her. “I haven’t given you much of a chance. I mean…I kind of turned our first date into a trauma dumping session. I didn’t leave you much room to talk about your own family.”

Chibs spoke, shaking his head reaching out his hand pressing over hers. “It’s fine, Hen. I didn’ mind it.”

He took a deep breath speaking again the words falling out of his lips. “I have a daughter.”

She widened her eyes, not expecting that. She guessed it shouldn’t be too surprising though. He was in his forties. He had to have some life before her. “How old is she?”

“Thirteen…Kerrianne…her name is Kerrianne.” Chibs responded a small smile crossing her features.

“That’s a pretty name, I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before. What’s she like?” Y/N asked genuinely curious to know.

She was surprised she didn’t mind the concept of dating a guy with a kid. She’d never really been around children, but she liked them. She had never really put much thought into if she wanted children of her own. She found that she liked Chibs enough to accept that he was a parent and to accept whatever role she played in that if their relationship should progress to that point. 

Chibs cringed the words falling from him. “I don’ know…I ain’ seen her since she was bout four.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop at this information. He was a deadbeat? She felt her stomach sour at the thought. 

Chibs sighed, shaking his head, spotting the look on her face only able to imagine the thoughts running through her mind. He had a feeling none of them were positive. He spoke again the words sliding from his lips before he could stop them. “She lives in Belfast…with my wife.”

Y/N was certain if she had a drink in her hand she would have tossed it in his face. She glared at him, yanking her hand from his her voice harsh. “You’re fucking married? Are you serious?” 

She scoffed getting up from the bench before he had a chance to register what was happening. 

She spoke, snatching up her purse and her coat as she prepared herself to leave her temper rising by the second. “What am I then? Am I just some stateside fun? Was I meant to be the girl you fucked in the US while your wife and kid sit back in Ireland? I mean, I knew you SAMCRO guys were kind of dysfunctional when it came to relationships and monogamy but this really takes the cake on fucked up. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me from Jackson and all your little friends down at the clubhouse. I know I haven’t always been smart about the guys I’ve hooked up with in the past, but I have developed way more of a sense of self worth than I had almost a decade ago. I am no one’s fucking mistress. Have a nice life Chibs…actually, no, you have the life you deserve. You are such an asshole.”

Chibs scrambled up from the bench moving quick to follow her. He reached out taking her hand in his not shocked as she yanked it away her voice raising. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

Chibs moved fast moving in front of her placing his hands on her shoulder he fast to speak. “Just give me five minutes…Jus’ five minutes to explain.”

“Explain what? You’re a married deadbeat dad, I’m the other woman. End of story. Good riddance.” She snapped moving aside trying to move past him.

Chibs moved just as fast stepping in front of her. “There’s more to the story, lass. Jus’ please, hear me out. If ya still hate me after I tell ya the entire story, I’ll fuck off.”

She groaned tempted to tell him that there was not a story on this planet he could tell to explain away the bombshell he’d just dropped on her.

She gazed up at him, hating to admit that she noticed the longing in his eyes. There was a sense of desperation there that she didn’t like. 

She let out a huff crossing her arms over her chest. “You have five minutes. If I sense even an ounce of bullshit, I’m leaving and not looking back.”

Chibs nodded his head nodding over to a nearby bench. “Can we sit?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Fine, but the time to go to the bench and sit deducts from the five minute timeline I set.”

He spoke as they sat he sighing. “Fiona an I are estranged. I ain’ seen her in close to a decade now. I ain’ even spoke to her on the phone.”

“But you haven’t divorced her and you don’t see your kid.” Y/N snapped not entirely impressed if this was his attempt to explain himself.

Chibs cringed fast to speak again. “It ain' an option… neither the divorce or seein my Kerrianne.” 

He paused, spotting the look of annoyance on her features as she spoke. “Let me guess? Getting divorced is a huge Catholic no no? Is being a deadbeat dad just a passion project for you?”

Chibs let out a huff shaking his head. “I ain’ exactly practicin’ So, no’ entirely and I ain’t a deadbeat by choice.”

She glared at him her words harsh. “ Don’t you dare try to feed me that my ex is nuts and won’t let me see my kid bullshit. I have heard it from a guy before and I don’t believe the story.”

He spoke shaking his head. “This ain’t me being some arsehole da abandonin his kid. Fiona ain’t the one keepin me away.”

He paused, clearing his throat knowing he had to tell the entrie story, every painful detail. “I met Fiona when I was sixteen. I’d moved to Belfast with my ma an my sister Cait. We moved from one housin’ estate to another…we were poor…My da…he was a real prick…mean bastard who no one missed when he walked out…my ma worked herself to the bone to barely scrape by. I was angry, mad at the world. I was pissed at the government and establishment in general. Fiona…er family was involved in the cause. Third generation…True IRA.”

He paused not wanting to meet Y/N’s eyes as he explained this bit of information. He spoke again, a sigh leaving him. “She talked bout the cause…bout her family. Told me grand tales of the figh’ fer a free Ireland. I was entranced with her stories…entranced with her. By the time we were married I was fully involved in the cause.”

He took another deep breath taking a chance to peek over at Y/N not liking that a hint of fear had joined the rage in her eyes.

He spoke again hoping that even if she understood the history behind Fiona and him that the mention of his involvement with the cause wouldn’t destroy things anyhow. “There was this lad…an ol’ friend of Fiona’s…they were childhood friends. He knew her before I did…Jimmy O’Phalen. He loved her before I did…He hated me…hated that I won Fiona…hated that she loved me…hated my background. He claimed I couldn’t be loyal to the cause given my ancestry…I wasn’ Irish, so I wasn’t as dedicated…I didn’ pay him any mind. I kept on with the cause. Life went on. The years passed by. Fiona an I somehow survived all of our twenties intact..made it to our thirties.”

“Kerrianne…she was born and it was like my life…it got brighter. I loved bein’ her da. I saw it as a chance to be a better lad than my bastard of a da. I stopped bein’ so angry…I…Jimmy O’ called it a weakness…He rose up in the ranks of the cause…got himself into a pretty high spot on the food chain…He started sowing distrust among others involved…started sayin’ I was a loyalist to the crown…sayin I was not truly dedicated…and then when my Kerrianne was barely a year old…Jimmy O’ did this to me.” Chibs explained reaching up to slide along the scars embedded into the flesh along his cheeks.

He paused his throat growing tight still not wanting to meet Y/N’s eyes. He spoke again a shaky sigh leaving him. “I gotta nother scar, along my belly. He tried to gut me too…it was…I almost died…I los’ a lotta blood, lost consciousness. I think the face…the attack was a play on my birthplace…Glasgow…He…he changed his mind toward the end I guess, decided not to kill me. Decided to give me a chance to live. Had his crew drop me off at the front steps to a hospital. He excommunicated me from the cause.”

“Fiona…your daughter?” Y/N dared to ask amazed she found the words as she tried to absorb everything he’d told her thus far her mind going a million different directions all at once.

Chibs let out a shaky breath the words falling from his lips. “Jimmy O’ took em as his…Fer over a decade now…they’ve been with him. He took my wife an’ raised my little girl as his own. Told me if I ever tried to get em back he’d kill em.”

He shook his head a sigh leaving him. “I wished I’d died tha’ nigh’ fer a long time….i wished he’d just killed me instead of keeping me alive to torment me. I joined up with SAMBEL…Belfast Sons. I knew em from business with the cause. I was their firs’ prospect. They took care of me. I found my place in that world.  I…I tried to watch my Kerrianne from a’far…Jimmy O’ let me fer a wee bit…guess he liked dangling her round me…tormenting me with seein’ her from far away…I lasted in SAMBEL fer a few years…but it jus’ it got so…it hur’ seein’ my sweet wee Kerrianne…not bein’ able to even go near her. The chance to patch over to SAMCRO came up an I took it. I wanted to escape.”

He dared to look over at Y/N as he spoke, explaining himself. “Divorcin’ Fiona ain’ an option. Jimmy O’ won’ even let us speak on the phone…I ain’ seen her since I left Belfast. Ya ain’ my mistress. Ya can’t be the other woman when the only reason I ain’ divorced is ‘cause I can’t even talk to my estranged wife to start a divorce.”

Y/N let out a shaky sigh, her mind and her heart feeling heavy. She let everything he’d just told her soak into her brain, her mind going a million different directions. 

The rage she’d felt left her body making her feel exhausted. She felt as though she’d been hit by a mack truck. She felt so drained that all she wanted was to lie down and not move again for a long while. 

Those pesky voices in the back of her mind that screamed that Chibs would lead her to ruin were so fast to speak up insisting that everything he’d just told her was the only evidence she needed to know that he’d lead her to destruction.

Her heart spoke up easily picking up on the pain in his voice as he recalled the story. She thought of him lying in a hospital recovering from the attack all alone wishing for death knowing he’d lost everything. 

She thought of his reaction each time she’d kissed his cheek thus far, the look on his face that told her that no one had shown him that kind of softness. It hit her that she’d kissed a reminder of all that he’d lost.

She let the realization that he was still legally married roll through her brain debating his insistence that she was not his mistress. 

She thought of his daughter and his wife, what their lives must be with the man who had harmed Chibs. She questioned why Fiona had not fought for him though she cursed herself for having such a thought. She didn’t know how she would react if it had been her…if she’d been a mother. 

She felt her stomach turn, her mind flashing back to what he’d said about the True IRA. The thought frightened her. 

She sighed knowing that she’d already realized that Chibs had most likely done horrible things in the past and would do horrible things in the future. She knew he’d never pretended not to be a criminal…at least to her.

She felt a voice in the back of her mind perk up pointing out that Chibs had not given her a reason to think he might harm her. If he was going to harm her he would have killed her that night in the cemetery when she was burying those cremains.

Yes, his past involvement with the cause definitely made her stomach turn and she had a feeling that SAMCRO was still involved given his mention of SAMBEL being involved with the True IRA.

A voice in the back of her head piped up that she wasn’t exactly innocent. She’d done some pretty heinous things for the club lately.

The realization hit her that she didn’t feel afraid of him even with the past misdeeds he may have done for the cause. Even with what he’d done…what he would do in the future for the Sons; she was shocked to find that she didn’t fear for her life. 

Chibs felt as though he was the last person on this planet she expected might harm her. Filip Chibs Telford was no monster. 

She thought of how sweet he’d been on that first date and how lovely he continued to be. 

A monster wouldn’t hold her hand so gently while she spilled her heart about her brother  and her past. A monster wouldn’t bring her shortbread. A monster would never look at her like she was a fine work of art. 

Chibs dared to speak knowing he had to spill his heart as a last ditch effort to hopefully not lose her. “I ain’ been interested in a woman fer more than sex since I…since Fiona…I took advantage of all that came with the clubhouse.”

Y/N cringed decoding that he meant the croweaters. 

Chibs spoke again, a sigh leaving him. “I let myself get swallowed up by life in the Sons...I didn’ want to feel…din’ want to let my heart get involved…Then I met ya. I didn’t expect ya…didn’ expect I’d like ya as much as I do. All I know is yer the firs’ woman I met in over a decade who I wan’ more than just sex with. I like bein’ with ya. I love talkin’ to ya. I think bout ya more often than not. I feel good with ya around. I’m havin a good time with ya and I want to see where it takes us. I don’t want to lose ya when I’ve jus’ barely gotten to have ya. I know I ain’ conventional…I may not be able to give ya the traditional path mos’ relationships take…I jus’ know that when I’m with ya…I don’ want get swallowed up by chaos to escape the misery. So, all I’m askin’ fer is the chance even if it ain’ conventional.”

Y/N let the words marinate in her mind. She picked up on what he said about wanting to be swallowed by chaos to escape feeling awful. Wasn’t that what had led her to hanging around SAMCRO almost a decade before?

She sighed at the realization that no, Chibs would not exactly be able to offer her the stereotypical relationship path. If he was still married there would be no white wedding in the future.

She furrowed her brow knowing she wasn’t exactly in the place in this relationship with him to even consider marriage. The concept of even thinking that far into the future this soon in a relationship that was barely even beginning to bloom was preposterous. 

She glanced over at Chibs her heart telling her that she’d had fun with him. She didn’t want to sink into misery and isolation when he was around. 

She recalled the thought she’d had that first date when she had to leave to attend to the deceased that had fallen into the care of her funeral home.

For the first time in her life she preferred the company of someone living and didn’t want to avoid life to tend to the dead.

Her heart screamed that she didn’t want to go back to isolating herself and spending all her time with the dead.

She wanted to live. Chibs made her want to live.

She reached out, making up her mind, her hand sliding over his as she spoke. “Do you promise me every single thing you just said to me is the absolute truth? I am not the other woman?”

“I swear to ya. You are not a mistress. I may be a bastard, but I ain’ goin to lie bout that.” Chibs insisted his heart daring to lift just the slightest.

Y/N sighed telling the fears in the back of her head to shut up, deciding to listen to what her heart screamed. “Okay. I’m here…I’m not going anywhere Filip.”

She paused, shaking her head as she spoke again. “I’ve never been the conventional type…I don’t expect traditional from you…at least not in the white picket fence stereotype ... .I do expect monogamy, Filip. If you want someone who’s fine sitting by while you get your dick wet somewhere else then I’m not the girl for you.”

“I am fine with that. I don’ want anyone else, Hen. I haven’ even considered it since we met.” He replied being completely honest with her, surprised to find that he didn’t think he’d miss the freedom of not being committed. 

She paused, deciding to be honest. “Just promise me something Filip…Swear to me that I’m not a cheap replacement or a fill in for your estranged wife. I can’t be a substitute for what you want ... .I can’t just be the girl you bide your time with while you wait for what you really want to come back to you.  I have already filled the role as a substitute pussy for a guy in the past. I refuse to do that again. I don’t want to be used to fill a void in a man. I’m worth more than that.” 

Chibs furrowed his brow surprised by the anger that bubbled up in him at her admission about this man from her past. 

He gave her hand a squeeze, the words leaving him without hesitation. “Yer not fillin any void fer me…ya ain’ a substitute fer Fiona.  I ain’ bidin my time with ya. I want ya fully and completely fer exactly who ya are. Ya ain’ filling a spot fer anyone else.” 

She let out a shaky breath, her heart insisting that this was all she needed to know.

She leaned in her lips close to his cheek as she spoke. “Is this okay?”

He widened his eyes as he realized what she was asking. He nodded his head quick to reply. “Yes, please.”

She pressed her lips to his cheek he surprised by the dampness gathering at the corners of his eyes.

The kiss remained lingering, Y/N reaching up to wipe a stray tear from his face as she finally pulled back.

She spoke her voice soft, finding some humor in the moment. “Okay, next date no trauma. We aren’t allowed to cry on the third date.”

Chibs let the laugh leave him, he nodding his head agreeing wholeheartedly.

He wrapped an arm around her waist not helping but to tease her the horrible mood he’d been in all afternoon lifting. “So, I’m gettin a third date?”

She leaned into his embrace a small laugh leaving her. “So long as you promise we don’t cry.”

“Aye no tears from me.” He insisted, squeezing her all the tighter.

She relaxed against him, her eyes closing her body feeling lighter than it had felt in so long.

She knew this was far from conventional but she wasn’t lying. She’d never been a conventional girl.

58 notes View Post
m14mags
3 weeks ago

Numb (Dr. Robby x Reader)

Numb (Dr. Robby X Reader)

Dr Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x reader

Word Count:3707 

TRIGGER WARNINGS: TALKS OF SUICIDE, SUICIDAL TENDENCIES, TALKS OF INFERTILITY. THIS IS A DARK FANFIC, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE IN A BAD SPACE MENTALLY.

“This place will break your heart,” Y/N stood on the edge of the group as she stared at her wonderful husband, struggling to get through his speech to the team. But as she looked around taking in the scene before her, her husbands words faded away replaced by the loud ringing she was all to accustomed to. 

The day had been one of the worst she could remember. It had started with a fight with Robby about him going into work, on a day he was supposed to have off. 

“You never work today, why are you going in?” She sighed as she watched him getting dressed. 

“I just…” He paused running his hands over his face. “They are short staffed today, I can’t leave them stranded.” 

“And what about me,” She snapped pulling her hair up into a messy bun. “What about the doctor’s appointment.” 

“Shit.” Robby sighed. “Baby, I’m sorry I forgot I…” 

“Michael,” Y/N said tears building up. “I know today is hard for you, but burying yourself in work isn’t going to help. Have you thought any more about talking to that therapist Jack suggested.” 

“Jesus Y/N, I’m fine.” Robby snapped. “We are down staff, you know that, that’s why I’m going in, no other fucking reason.” 

“You sure sound fine.” Y/N snapped back before she took a breath. “Baby, why won’t you talk to me. I understand what you are going through I miss Adam… 

“You don’t understand shit!” 

Y/N froze. Her heart shattering. 

“Right.” She said as she stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door. As she stared into the mirror she could barely hear the sound of Robby knocking on the door as the ringing began. But she did her best to shove her anxiety down, she wouldn’t break, not now. Not in the middle of a fight with Robby. So instead that anxiety turned into anger.

“Y/N I’m sorry, I…” Robby started when Y/N ripped the door open. 

“No Michael, you’re right I don’t understand how you are feeling. It’s not like I was there, it’s not like I wasn’t going through everything with you. It’s not like I didn’t come running, and I mean running, when you called me on that day. It’s not like I wasn’t also distraught when he died because I cared about Monty to!” Y/N screamed.

Robby reached out, but Y/N pulled back as she cleared her throat. 

“I won’t plan on waiting up for you for dinner tonight. I’ll leave you leftovers in the fridge.” 

“Y/N…” 

“Have a good day at work.” 

“Will you let me know when you get to the hospital for your appointment, I will see if I can swing up.” He said trying to fix the situation. 

“We both know you won’t be able to get away.” Y/N sighed as she wiped the tears from her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Robby said his voice quiet and broken. Y/N wanted to forgive him, she wanted to pull him into her arms and comfort him, but her chest felt heavy and she could feel the numbness creeping up. She wasn’t in a headspace to take care of him. 

“I’m going on a run.” She said as she turned away from him and headed out of their apartment into the crisp air. 

“What is the fucking point anymore,” The voice in her head nagged. “You are not going to be able to help him. He doesn’t trust you anymore.” 

Y/N clenched her jaw. This negative thoughts had been building for months at that point, and they were getting worse, darker. But however much she tried to convince her husband that talking to someone would help him, she wasn’t the type to take her own advice. 

The day had just gotten worse from there. In the past, after a fight, Robby would have sent her a text or some sort of acknowledgement that he still cared, and that he wanted them to repair the damaged that had happened. But she got nothing. No text, no voice memo, no inappropriate gif that Robby didn’t fully understand what it meant. Just silence. 

“He doesn’t care anymore. He’s going to leave you.” The voices continued as she sat in the lobby waiting for her doctors appointment. 

To distract herself, she pulled out her phone and texted Jack. 

“You want to get dinner/breakfast when you wake up?” 

“Not today. Wasn’t a good shift.” He texted back. 

Y/N heart broke. Her brother tried to act tough and grumpy, but she knew that at his core he cared so deeply about every person who rolled through the ER. He always took any death hard. 

“You want to talk about it?” 

“Nah, just want to be alone.” 

Y/N sighed. While Jack had gotten better ever since he started going to therapy, she couldn’t help but worried about him constantly. While Jack was older than her, she had always felt like she was responsible for him. Especially after his injury. She had never been more scared in her life then when she thought she was going to lose him. And ever since then she promised to be his rock, to be the one who was there for him through anything. 

But that was just who Y/N was, she was everyones rock. She took on all of their pain, their sadness, their anger, and she made sure that everyone knew how loved and cared for they were. She couldn’t stand the thought of anyone being in pain or being alone. However, in her quest to heal everyone else, she never said no, she never acknowledged her own pain, her own struggles. Instead she would just stuff them down. She was very much like her husband in this way. 

And for the most part, she handled everything. That was until her and Robby started trying for a baby. 

They had talked about it for years, but with both their schedules, Robby being an ER doctor and Y/N being a cardiothoracic surgeon, they hadn’t had time to fully talk about a game plan. 

But one morning, on a rare Sunday when they both had off, Robby and Y/N were walking around Allegheny Commons Park, and Robby saw some parents playing with their toddler. 

“Y/N,” He said his gripped tight in hers. “I think we should try for a baby.” 

“I mean I’m pretty sure what we did this morning would catagorize as trying for a baby.” She teased. 

Robby blushed. “Y/N I’m serious. I know we have talked about it, but I really want to do this. I mean hell I’m already going to be in a nursing home by the time the kid is 18, but you want this, and I want this. And you are going to make one hell of a mother.” 

Y/N turned to face her husband. Her face beaming. “Really?” 

“Yes really now come on.” He laughed as he started to walk them back to their apartment. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Well if we are going to start trying I want to start now.” Robby said and he fought the urge to throw Y/N over his shoulder and carry her all the way back. 

But it never happened. They tried everything. But after months of being heartbroken everytime Y/N took a test just for it to come back negative, they knew they had to go talk to a professional to figure out what was wrong. 

Robby’s test had come back fine, his “swimmer’s were firing on all cylindars” the doctor had explained crudely. So now it was Y/N’s turn. That was the appointment Robby had forgotten about. 

“Mrs. Abbot-Robinavitch.” The nurse called and Y/N smiled. In any other circumstance she would correct them by saying she was doctor, not Mrs, but she didn’t recognize the nurse so she decided to cut her some slack. 

The walk back to the room felt like an eternity. Y/N knew she should have called Robby, she should have let him know she was heading in for the appointment. But she knew the odds of him being able to check him phone were slim to none, and she didn’t want to get hurt again hoping. 

The appointment blurred by, the doctor talked to her trying to explain everything that was happening, but all Y/N heard was one sentence, “I’m sorry but your uterus is an inhospitable environement and it is unlikely that you will be able to conceive a child.” After that the ringing in her head took over and nothing else mattered. Y/N knew that the doctor was trying to explain to her other options, and other ways her and Robby could have children, but it didn’t matter. That numb sensation was back, and Y/N just went through the motions. She nodded along to what the doctor was saying but she wasn’t actually listening. 

“You are a failure. Robby wants to have a baby and you can’t give it to him.” Her thoughts screamed. 

“Are you alright? Do you want me to call your husband for you?” The doctor said a look of concern in her eyes. 

“No, I’m… I’m ok. He’s busy at work I don’t want to disturb him.” 

The doctor handed Y/N some pamphlets on adoption and surrogacy, all of which Y/N dumped in the trash as soon as she was back in the lobby. 

“Nothing matters anymore.” The voices persisted. 

Y/N had almost made it out to her car, when she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Pulling it out, she saw it was Jack calling. 

“Did you change your mind about taking me up on breakfast?” She said trying to muster up as much emotion as she could to make it sound like she wasn’t as dead inside as she felt. 

“There is an active shooter at Pittfest, can you come in?” He said and Y/N’s heart fell into her stomach. Jake was at Pittfest. With how long Y/N and Robby had been together, Jake was such a major part in her life. He was basically like a son to her, just as much as he was to Robby. The fear overwhelmed her, but she knew at this time she couldn’t let it consume her, she needed to be ready to go. Robby would need her in more ways that one. 

“Yeah I’m in the hospital now, let me grab some scrubs and I will head down.” 

“I’m almost there. I got a head start to hopefully beat any traffic.” He said. “Let Robby know, I’m on my way.” 

“Will do.” She said hanging up the phone, as she ran to find herself some scrubs. 

When she made it down to the pitt, she eyes scanned the chaos looking for Robby. 

“Y/N.” A voice called and she turned to see him behind her. Their eyes locked and she watched as his shoulders dropped, and instantly she knew, today had been hell, and it was about to get a whole lot worse. 

“Come here.” she said as she grabbed his hand and pulled him into an empty room. 

“I’m so fucking glad you are here.” He sighed as he pulled her into his arms. 

They held onto each other for a moment. Just drinking up each other’s presences. 

“I love you so much, I’m so sorry about this morning.” Robby whispered as he kissed the side of her head. 

“I love you too.” Y/N said her mind drifting back to the doctor’s appointment she just came from. Now was not the time to tell Robby though, that would wait until they were home. “Jack is on his way.” 

“Oh thank god.” Robby sighed and Y/N couldn’t help but smile. Robby and Jack’s friendship made her so incredibly happy. 

They had been in the thick of it for over an hour. And what they had seen in that amount of time, was enough for Y/N to think she never wanted to come back. But she had gotten good at dissasociating, and in order to keep helping people, she knew that was the only way she was going to make it through. That was until she heard her husband’s voice over the noise. 

“Jake, you can’t stay with her.” 

Y/N’s head snapped over to where she heard him talk and she could see Jake limping beside a gurney, and Leah, Jake’s girlfriend unconscious. Both of them covered in blood. 

She felt torn, she knew she still had a patient she needed to work on, but she needed to get to Jake. 

“I’ve got this.” Langdon said taking over for her. 

The minute he said that she bolted over. 

“Jake!” She called as she rushed up to him. 

“Y/N, Leah… she… there was so much blood.” 

“Robby’s got her, he’s going to do all he can. Are you hurt?” 

“My leg. I think I got hit.” 

“Ok let me take a look.” 

After making sure Jake was patched up and situated, Y/N made her way over to Robby who was doing compression on Leah. Jack’s eyes immediately locked onto hers, and he just shook his head sadly. 

“No,” Y/N thought looking at the poor girl on the gurney. “She’s so young. She had her whole life ahead of her.” 

“Robby.” She said as she got closer. “Baby, she’s gone.” 

Robby sighed. “Ok we are done.” 

“Time of death…” Dana started. 

Y/N stared down at the poor girl, her eyes welling up with tears. And for however sad she was for Leah and her family, Y/N couldn’t help thinking how it could’ve been Jake. 

“Do you want me to come with you to talk to Jake.” Y/N whimpered her voice sounding so small. 

“No I got it.” Robby said and Y/N could hear how broken he sounded. 

“Do you think he will be ok.” Jack said coming up behind her. 

“Honestly Jack, I don’t know.” 

“And are you ok?” 

“Are any of us ok?” She snapped back. 

“Good point.” 

And now they all stood after surviving the shift from Hell, listening to Robby give an moving speech but all Y/N could think about was how nothing mattered. She was spiraling as everything from that day hit her so hard at once it was like being hit by a train.  

“Nothing you do matters, no matter how many lives you save, there will always be some asshole ready to kill hundreds. The world is going to shit. It’s a good thing you can’t have a baby. You wouldn’t want to bring a child into this fucked up world anyway.” Y/N could feel her whole body start to shake as her thoughts screamed at her. “Give up now, there is no point anymore.” 

As she stared out at her brother and her husband the numbness she had been feeling all day was replaced by utter despair. 

“End it” The voices screamed, and could feel the tears start streaming down her face. She quickly took off up the stairs heading to the roof. 

“Everyone will be better off without you.” 

“Stop it!” Y/N screamed as she made it to the roof. 

It didn’t take her long to make it across to the railing and she climbed over. It wasn’t the first time she had been up there. This spot was one of her brothers favorites to descrompress after a long day. 

“What will Jack do if you are gone.” 

“He will move on with his life without having to worry about you anymore.” 

“And Robby?” 

“Oh Micheal,” Y/N sighed as she sat down on the edge of the roof her legs dangling over the edge. 

“You can’t give him the baby he wants” The voice taunted as Y/N gripped the edge of the roof and leaned forward slightly. “Free him” 

“Have you seen seen Y/N?” Robby asked Jack as he gathered up all of his stuff at the end of his shift. 

“Not since you gave your speech,” Jack said. “I have an idea of where she would have gone.” 

The two made their way onto the roof expecting to find Y/N in their usual spot. But when they opened the door they were shocked with what they found. 

“Y/N!” Robby gasped as he started to run towards her. 

“Don’t come any closer,” She screamed. 

“Y/N/N, what are you doing?” Jack asked as he slowly inched forward. 

“I said don’t come any closer.” 

“Y/N baby, don’t do this.” Robby begged. 

“I can’t do it anymore Michael,” Y/N sobbed. “I just… I don’t see a point.” 

“Y/N what is going on, where is this coming from?” Jack asked still moving slowly towards her. 

“Nothing we do makes any difference, for ever 5 people we save another 10 will die, and every year it seems people are doing more and more things to hurt each other. How are we supposed to handle all that death.” She sobbed leaning a little further forward. “It’s a good thing I can’t get pregnant because I don’t think I could survive bringing a child into this fucked up world!” 

“What?” Robby gasped and it caused Y/N to sob even harder. 

“That is what the doctor told me today. It’s my fault we can’t have children, my uterus isn’t a hospitable environment.” She laughed dryly. “Even my own fucking body does want to create life, so what is the point in living it.” 

Robby was full on panicking, he had never seen his wife like this, he had no idea how to handle this situation. Sure he talked Abbot off the ledge a few times, but he never seriously thought he would jump. This was different he knew that at any moment he could lose the love of his life. 

“And it’s not fair to you Michael it’s not fair, you want a baby so badly, you have been so excited about trying. You deserve to be with someone who can give that to you.” 

“Y/N, I don’t want anyone else, I want you. I need you. Please.” He said and he started to make his way closer following Jack’s lead. 

“I just am so tired of feeling like this, it feels like I’’m drowning and everytime I  get my head up just slightly for air I get shoved even harder and further down.” 

“Why haven’t you talked to any of us about this.” Jack asked finally reaching the railing. On the outside he was playing it cool, but inside he was contemplating if he could move fast enough to grab his sisters arm and yank her off the edge before she had time to fall. 

“I didn’t want to be a burden. Everyone elses problems are so much bigger than mine. Plus I need to be ok for everyone so I can take care of them.” Her sobbing had started to slow and her eyes were focused more and more on the ground below. 

“Y/N I love you so much, and I am so sorry for not realizing that you were hurting. But you cannot do this, we all need you.” Robby said.

“Please just come back from the edge and we can talk more.” Jack said calmly climbing over the railing. 

Y/N just hummed as she shook her head leaning forward again. 

“I feel like I’m failing everyone all the time.” Robby suddenly said and both Jack and Y/N looked over at him. 

“What?” Y/N gasped. 

“I failed Adamson, I failed Leah, and I’m worried I have failed at being your husband.” He said as he came and sat next to her on the edge of the ledge. 

“Micheal no you haven’t failed I…” 

“I feel like I am a liability to the staff because I take the death of patients too hard.” Jack said as he also came and sat next to her on the edge. “I am one bad day from being a power keg and losing my shit on everyone.” 

“But Jack you have made so much progress. You talking with that therapist has helped…” Y/N started. 

“I know, but I wouldn’t have seen them, without you Y/N/N. You have saved me so many times without even realizing it, just by being you. I need you Y/N.” Jack said reaching over to grab her hand. 

“You are my sunshine, baby.” Micheal continued. “You have been there for me through everything, My life is so much better with you in it. And I can’t imagine life without you. I am so sorry I wasn’t with you for the appointment. And we will figure out how to have a child, this isn’t the end. There are plenty of kids who need good homes who would love to have you as their mom. But I need you by my side Y/N. You keep me going.” 

“I… I just…” Y/N broke down again. “I’m sorry. Everything just seemed so hopeless.” 

“I know, but we are going to get you help.” Robby said. “It’s my turn to take care of you.” He smiled as he kissed the side of her head. “Let’s get up away from the edge.” 

Y/N nodded as she took Robby’s hands as he helped her up and over the edge of the railing. The minute her feet were both on the ground, Robby pulled her in for a long hug, one hand on the back of her head holding her as tightly as he could as the tears started to fall. 

“You can’t do that to me again, I can’t lose you baby.” He sobbed. And he watched as Jack leaned down his head on the railing taking deep breaths finally losing his cool. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Y/N kept repeating over and over again.

“I love you so much.” Robby said holding her tighter than her ever thought possible. And he knew in that moment that he would do everything in his power to make sure he never let her go. 

130 notes View Post
m14mags
1 month ago

Hunger Games Masterlist

Champagne Problems

Lavender Haze

Exile

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

136 notes View Post
m14mags
1 year ago

✨Bleeding Knuckles ✨

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x YN "Fire" Gibbs

Summary: Rooster meets Gibbs' daughter at the boxing gym. She's ferocious, strong and she's a boxer, but she is in pain. And Rooster relates to it. Now he is here, and he won't let anything hurt you anymore., not even yourself.

Words: 940 (Blurb - Boxer!Reader and NCIS crossover)

Pls reblog if you like the idea, so that I know if ppl wants to know the whole angsty but fluff story behind my idea

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

✨Bleeding Knuckles ✨

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It all started with Bradley counting every time it hurt. This is what Carole had taught her son to help him cope with life's disillusion. Grievance, anger, mourning... Bradley had experienced them all, and they all left a scar deep within his soul. This is why he had started boxing - to evacuate all the negative and brutal turmoil his soul was undergoing. Since then, he kept boxing as a tradition but also as a way to work out during his free time. For sure, he worked a lot and could not go to the boxing gym as much as he wanted, but today Maverick granted him a leave. After weeks of harsh training, Rooster could relieve the stress that had accumulated within. Each blow against the punching bag felt like a sweet release.

One punch for the excruciating training.

One punch for Hangman, just because he is a dick.

One punch for his ex, who had just broken up with him weeks ago.

He was about to throw another punch at the poor hanging bag when the sound of a girl grunting in pain snapped him out of his thought. Rooster stopped and swept the room with his warm hazel eyes. There he saw her ... It was Leroy Gibbs' daughter - oh, he had only caught sight of her once, but he had found her so attractive that he could not forget her beautiful face.

The girl was hitting her punching ball as if her life depended on it. She was staring at it, her brows frowned, and her wet, shining lips were curled up as a wild feline hissing at his enemy. She threw a brutal punch, so brutal that the chain from which the punching bag was hanging produced a loud jiggling sound. No one quite noticed her, for the place was almost empty and the few men training here were packed together at the weight section, at the other end of the gym. Rooster took off his thick red boxing gloves, far too busy observing her to keep it up with his training. He ran one of his hands through his sweaty blonde curls, some of them sticking to his temples and forehead.

"Fuuuuuuck you!"

You growled, louder. The violence with which your first hit the bag was so ferocious that the skin on your knuckles -already damaged by one full hour of enraged boxing- broke open. Bradley thought you would stop beating that poor punching bag now that you wounded yourself, but you kept hitting it again and again. Blinded by a destructive rage, your body seemed desensitized to pain. Self-control broke down, you were a wild fire.

If at first the pilot had been intrigued and amused by your determination, he grew worried. Rooster easily recognized the sparkle of hatred that was shining in your teary and infuriated eyes, for he had the same look years ago. He clenched his jaw as he noticed you smearing your blood all over the punching ball with your wounded knuckles - he was torn between conflicting feelings. Somehow, your problems were your business, not his. His life was already busy enough and, to be true, he had his own mishaps to deal with. But, his inner voice reminded him of the time he had been like her - lost, filled with rage and sadness. He would have loved someone to take care of him. Or just someone to tell him that everything will be fine, at least. Rooster sighed and walked towards you.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

You hissed through your teeth. Sweat burning your eyes, blood dripping from your hands, you growled again and punched the bag with all your remaining strength, the movement directly coming from your whole shoulder. Yet, your knuckles never met the smooth surface of the bag, for someone had grabbed your elbow and forced you to stop. Surprised, you turned and glared at the man who was holding your arm firmly.

"Hey, calm down girl." Bradley's deep voice was candy-coated with an indescribable softness. It was the first pet name that came to his head

"Leave me alone!" You hissed again, showing your teeth.

"I know you are angry but you are bleeding."

His words pulled you out of your blinding hatred. You blinked several times, chasing away the beads of sweat that had formed on your eyelashes. Then, your eyes looked where Rooster's irises of honey pools were staring at. Red and warm blood was oozing from slits on each of your knuckles. As soon as your brain realized it was your hand, an unpleasant tingling pain blossomed at their spot. You winced, then looked at the tall blonde and curly man that was in front of you. Rooster gently released your arm.

"Nevermind." You chased away his hand with a hasty movement and turned around, back to him. You really did not want to talk at the moment.

Rooster hesitated: should he leave you? He shook his head. Something had attracted him, something that he had seen in your eyes. Your pain and his were similar. This sole observation was enough to convince him he was taking the right decision. No matter what happened, he would be there for you.

"Are you sure you're good?"

Six words.

One deep yet caring voice.

It was all it took for tears of anger to overflow.

Rooster gently pressed one of his large, warm, and calloused hands on your shoulder. Looking at you with concern, the pilot's fingers closed around your clavicle to anchor his presence. He was there, and he wanted you to feel it.

"There, it's okay."

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Don't ask me what I'm doing. Can't be productive today so I wanted to write a little blurb with reader as an angry brawler girl, a good boxer, and Gibb's daughter.

167 notes View Post
m14mags
4 weeks ago

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 I chapter two

(dr. jack abbot x nurse!reader)

⤿ chapter summary: your day off opens in quiet, comforting routine. errands and small talk feel almost enough to keep the world steady. but scattered signs—disturbed spaces, cryptic messages—suggest unseen eyes on you.

⤿ warning(s): stalking

⟡ masterlist ; previous I next

✦ word count: 1.9k

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 I Chapter Two

Your first day off in twelve shifts begins the way small miracles do: with sunlight, silence, and the smell of good food.  

You stand in the kitchen, spatula in hand, watching thick‑cut slices of bacon curl and pop in the cast‑iron. A pot of full black beans simmers beside them, spiced with a dash of chipotle, and sourdough toasts slowly in the oven. The kettle whistles; you pour the water over loose‑leaf tea—then carry everything to the coffee table.  

You sink into the couch, remote in one hand, plate balanced carefully on your knees. The History Channel flickers to life on the TV—some World War II documentary already mid-narration. A gravelly voice drones about tank strategies and bitter winters while you dig into your breakfast: bacon, beans, toast, and two sunny-side-up eggs. When the video ends you queue another—street‑food vendors in Oaxaca—then another—an eight‑hour lo‑fi playlist you’ll never finish. Breakfast stretches into morning, warm and unhurried, crumbs gathering on your pajama pants.  

By ten you’re upright, mug refilled, windows cracked to let in crisp river air. You sweep, wipe counters, toss sheets into the washer, and chase a rogue dust bunny across the hallway with the broom. Domestic quiet feels luxurious, almost decadent.  

Suddenly, a sharp voice drifts through the open window. “Again?! Seriously?!”  

You peer through the window and down into the courtyard. Mr. Donnelly—gray beard, Steelers cap—stands by the communal trash corral, hands on hips. Black bags are shredded, cardboard flaps torn open, and yesterday’s takeout containers scatter like confetti. The mess is worst around your bin: coffee grounds, chicken bones, a tea packet glinting foil in the sun.  

You lean on the sill. “Everything okay, Mr. D?”  

He looks up, exasperation softening when he sees you. “Raccoons, maybe cats. Little bandits had themselves a buffet!”  

“Roger. I’ll be right down.”  

You pull on jeans, an old hoodie, and rubber gloves. Downstairs you and Donnelly work side by side, scooping refuse into fresh bags, tying double knots. He mutters about city pest control; you crack jokes about raccoon Michelin ratings.  

Halfway through, he wipes his brow with a sleeve. “Hey—off topic. My daughter mailed me a bottle of turmeric pills, swears they’re good for my joints. That true, or is it Facebook nonsense?”  

“Turmeric can help a little with inflammation,” you say, cinching a bag, “but it’s no substitute for your prescription NSAID—and it can mess with blood thinners, so clear it with your doc first.”  

He nods—ever since you spotted that odd, pearly mole on his temple last year, the one he thought was just an age spot until the biopsy came back melanoma, he treats your word like gospel. “Good to know. She also sent me a link about apple‑cider‑vinegar cures, but I figured that was bunk.”  

“ACV is great on salad,” you dead‑pan, hefting another sack, “and terrible for curing anything else.”  

Donnelly barks a laugh. “Knew it.”  

It’s odd that only your bin is mauled, but he chalks it up to the smell of your bacon‑grease jar and you let the theory stand. When everything’s tidy you hose the concrete, angle the spray under the bins, and he grips your shoulder in a grateful squeeze.  

“You’ve saved my hide twice now—first the cancer, now the critter fiasco.”  

“Just doing the neighborhood rounds,” you reply, stripping off your gloves.  

“Still. I owe you. If you ever need a ride anywhere, you call me.”  

“Deal.”  

You thank him again, head back upstairs for a shower, and let the steam rinse away trash‑day grime—and the faint, nagging thought that raccoons rarely prefer bacon grease to everyone else’s leftovers.  

Upstairs, you kick off your shoes and head straight for the bathroom. Steam is already fogging the mirror by the time your hoodie hits the hamper. You stand under a scalding spray until your shoulders unknot, grit swirling away in ribbons. Shampoo, coconut body wash, a quick exfoliating scrub over the calluses that surgical gloves never let your skin forget—small rituals that reset your head as much as your body.  

Fresh out, you wrap yourself in an oversized towel, pad to the bedroom, and let the day‑off uniform choose itself. You massage lotion into your hands—cuticles forever dry from incessant scrubbing—then slip your phone from the charger to check the time.  

11:58. Perfect.  

In the kitchen you pack a canvas tote: your wallet, a couple of mesh produce bags, the prescription bottle that needs refilling, and that one pair of trousers with a busted hem for the tailor. You make a quick mental note to add swing by the thrift store to the list on your phone; you’ve been meaning to hunt for a new lamp for a good month now.  

Just as you bend to lace your boots, the phone buzzes. The screen lights with a photo: Jack's hand—broad knuckles, faint surgical nicks—cradling a steaming ceramic mug. Beneath, his caption:  

4‑minute steep, no boil. 👍  

A laugh snorts out before you can stop it. Jack, with the earnest proof‑of‑completion energy of a dad texting his first selfie. You thumb a reply:  

Gold star, Doctor. Welcome to the leaf side.  

Before you hit send, another buzz stacks above Jack’s thread. The preview text looks like a cat walked across a keyboard: ahsdklfhasdklfhaskl hi.

No name. No profile pic. A number you don’t recognize.  You swiftly block the number without opening the message.  Probably just spam.

Outside, the hallway smells of floor wax and warm laundry tumbling in the communal dryer—normal, safe scents. You lock the apartment, test the knob twice, then head for the stairwell, reciting the grocery list in your head like a mantra: eggs, oranges, rice and a sweet treat, maybe two or even three.

By the time your boots hit the sidewalk, sunlight on your face and the city’s Saturday hum around you, the odd text and the midnight raccoons have folded into a corner of your mind labeled later. Today is still yours, and you intend to spend every mundane minute of it.  

. . .  

When you swing past the Riverfront Market, the parking lot looks like a disaster drill—SUVs circling like vultures, carts jammed in every corral. You mutter a tactical retreat, swing back onto the boulevard, and promise yourself groceries will be the final stop. And so, you knock out your errands with efficiency: trousers dropped at the tailor (“two centimeters, blind hem, please”), prescription refilled, and lastly, a quick victory lap through the thrift shop where you score a tiffany desk lamp for five bucks.  

An hour later, you roll into the same lot to find it blissfully tamer—maybe half‑full, the Saturday rush already migrating to lunch. Perfect. You snag a space near the cart return, grab your canvas tote, and head inside.  

The produce aisle is crisp with the scent of misted greens when a familiar voice rings out behind you. “There she is—my favorite surgical saint!”  

You turn as Dana—her sharp blonde bob swinging over her shoulders—eases her cart into yours with a playful thunk. Her niece, a round‑cheeked toddler in star‑print leggings, claps at the gentle collision, squealing when you reach out to give her belly a quick tickle, thumb and forefinger pinching her marshmallow cheeks just enough to earn a giggle.  

“Hi there!” you laugh, straightening as you look up at a beaming charge nurse. “I thought your day off was reserved for sweatpants and true‑crime podcasts.”  

“Tiny tyrant wanted blueberries,” she says, ruffling the toddler’s hair. “And my daughter wanted thirty uninterrupted minutes, so Nana came to the rescue.” She drops a pint of berries into her cart, then peers into yours. “Real vegetables? Bakery bread? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a functioning adult.”  

“Shh,” you whisper. “I have a reputation to ruin.”

You angle your cart toward the tomatoes; Dana falls in beside you, matching your lazy pace. Her niece lunges for every bright piece of produce, and Dana buys temporary peace with a steady drip of bunny‑shaped crackers. Between grabs you trade life bulletins: you ask with genuine interest about how Benji’s woodworking side hustle is faring—“He finally sold that live‑edge coffee table,” Dana crows, “and now he thinks he’s Etsy royalty”—and she fires back, wanting to know if you ever sent in that application for the citywide cook‑off. You confess you chickened out at the last minute, then admit you’ve been taking weekend pottery instead, which makes her whoop loud enough to startle the toddler. “Look at us,” she says, snagging a ripe Roma, “two adrenaline junkies pretending we have hobbies like normal people.”

Halfway through the avocado display, Dana’s tone slips to mock‑casual. “So,” she drawls, examining you like a crystal ball, “rumor is our favorite former combat medic traded sludge‑grade coffee for—” she waves at the tea section up ahead “—fancy tea.”  

Heat blooms at your ears. “Abbot can drink whatever he wants.”  

Dana’s blue eyes sparkle. “ Just Abbot, huh? Funny—heard you called him Jack on the radio last week.”  

Your mouth opens, shuts. “Slip of the tongue.”  

“Sure,” she teases, easing a grin. “There’s a betting pool, you know. Odds on why the caffeine king is suddenly brewing leaves.”  

“You people will gamble on anything.”  

Dana parks the cart and crosses her arms. “Current theories: secret detox, midlife crisis, or”—she lifts her brows—“a certain pretty surgical nurse’s influence.”  

You snort. “Please. Nothing’s going on. Just two over‑worked fossils hydrating.”  

“Nothing she says, using his first name like a lullaby.” Dana winks. “Spill it.”  

You bag a head of romaine. “He’s…nice. Listens. That’s all.”  

“Uh‑huh. Well, when Jack starts smuggling in single‑origin Darjeeling, I’m cashing out.”  

Before you can reply, Dana’s niece launches a blueberry skyward; it splats harmlessly on Dana’s sleeve and she plucks it off, unfazed.

“Speaking of chaos—yesterday in The Pitt? One guy comes in with a nail‑gun through his boot and tries to livestream it. Robby has to confiscate the phone while Collins hunts for tetanus history. And—get this—one of the med‑students faints into the sharps bin. We’re calling him Porcupine now.”  

You laugh so hard you nearly drop your lettuce. “Porcupine! That’s savage, even for you.”  

“Pitt rules: if you pass out, you earn a nickname.” She scoops animal crackers into her niece’s hands. “Anyway, enjoy your day off. And remember, the house cut on the Abbot‑tea pool is twenty percent.”  

“Fine,” you sigh, pushing your cart. “But if you win, I’m taking half and buying enough loose‑leaf to convert the whole unit.”  

Dana salutes with a blueberry. “I’ll hold you to it, Jack‑whisperer.”  

You roll your eyes, but the name lingers sweet on your tongue as you both trundle toward the bakery—two nurses off‑duty, carts bumping, hearts lighter than any official chart will ever note.  

. . .  

By late afternoon you’re back in the apartment, juggling your against your ribs while your new lamp shines prettily near the entrance. You drop everything on the kitchen table and reach for your phone to tick “groceries” off the to‑do list—only to find three new notifications from the another strange number.

The previews are nonsense again—random consonants, stray emojis, one line that looks like Morse code smashed by a cat. You thumb through, equal parts annoyed and curious, until you hit the most recent message:  

Green suits you, pretty girl.  

A pulse hammers once, hard, in your throat.  

You set the phone down very carefully, as though it might explode, and listen—really listen—to the apartment. The fridge hums. Upstairs pipes clank. No footsteps, no voices, but suddenly every shadow feels occupied.  

Groceries forgotten, you sweep the place like you would on the trauma bay: bedroom closet first (just winter coats), bathroom cabinet (towels and aspirin), hall linen closet (sheets, vacuum hose), kitchen pantry (cereal boxes, nothing human). You kneel to peer under the bed, heart pounding like you sprinted stairs, then check every window lock twice, tugging to be sure.  

Finally you drag the spare dining chair across the floor and wedge its back under the doorknob—an old trick your grandmother swore by. It won’t stop a battering ram, but it buys time. Time feels like oxygen right now.  

Only then do you remember the milk on the counter, sweating through the carton. You shove perishables into the fridge on autopilot, not taking the care to arrange it like you usually would, hands trembling just enough to clink jars together. The phone stays facedown on the table, screen black, as though eye contact might invite more.  

Night falls, the apartment settles.

You brew the strongest sleep‑blend tea you own—valerian, chamomile, skullcap—and pour it into your largest mug. Scissors from the junk drawer go onto the vanity beside your bed, blades half‑open like a steel moth. Overreacting? Maybe. Under‑reacting because you haven’t called the police? Possibly. What you know is this: control is a ladder, and tonight every rung you can hold matters.  

You sip the smooth brew, crawl beneath the duvet, and stare at the ceiling until the tea’s heaviness drags your eyelids down. The phone is silenced, the chair braces the door, scissors glint in the street‑lamp glow. It isn’t much, but it’s a perimeter—thin, improvised, yours.  

You let the darkness take you, counting breaths, willing morning to hurry.

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 I Chapter Two

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m14mags
1 year ago

peaky blinders

(mainly shelby!sis but a few aren’t)

4 Brothers and a Wedding

A Death On Christmas Eve

A Little Fall of Rain

Ada

Big Brother

Big Sister, part 2

Biscuits

Blind Affection

Bonnie In Love

Breaking In

Candles

Catch Me? Always

Cluedo

Cold

Cousins

Creepy Painting

Damsel Doing Damage

Dance

Dear Mother

Death

Don’t Cry For Me

Drink and Love

Drunken Kissing

Ears Everywhere

Eighteen

Eldest Shelby, part 2

Eyebrows

F*cking Hell

Family

Feeling Ill

Fire in the Hole

First Kill

First Month

Florence Nightingale 

Flowers

Fox in the Snow

From Birth to Death

Garden Girl

Give Me Away

Go Traveling

Grey Lady

Havoc

Heroes and Villains

Hi, Bi

Home

Horse Racing

Hung, Part 2, Part 3

I Have You

I Love You

I’m Done

I’m Done, Part 2

I’ve Got You, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 

Idiots, part 2

In the Bleak Midwinter

It Isn’t Your Fault

John

Killer Sister

Late

Life

Listening

Love Shouldn’t Hurt This Much

Low

Maternal Instinct

Metaphorically or Physically

Missing

My Baby

New Year’s Eve

No. Six

O’Christmas Tree

OBE, DCM, MM, MP

Overdosed

Part 2 to something apparently

Photograph

Photos

Play Nice

Please Be Proud

Pressed Flowers

Prove Yourself

Runaways, part 2, part 3

Sarcasm, Part 2

Scavenger

School of Art

Sent Home

Sexy and Free

Shelby Ladies

Shot

Sibling Pain

Siblings

Sixth Sense

Snowballed

Soft Hair

Stand Up For Yourself

Stop Loving You

Swan Lake

Tantrum

The Girl With the Tattoo’s

The Grey’s

The Letters

Tired

Titanic

Trapped

Tree

Wait for Me

We’re Twins

Wedding Day

Wedding Surprise

When You Are Young

Where’s Your Shoe?

Wild Night Out

Women

You’re Allowed to Not Be Ok

Young and in Love

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m14mags - This Is My Escape From Real Life
m14mags
This Is My Escape From Real Life

22!! No Minors please!!

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