Night Vision - Chapter 1

Brain rot so bad I’m posting on Tumblr💔

Haymitch x gn reader rambling ig?!?!

Word count: 1.2k

He’s a stubborn alcoholic with depression who copes by being rude or otherwise sarcastic, you test his patience SO MUCH. He knows he hates you, that’s about it, but also he finds a good deal of fun in goading you and bantering with you whenever you’re around. This man is a handful, and he’s mean, and he has literally no patience for bs.

Idk how you win him over, the logistics don’t matter rn I’m going nutty thinking about him. Imo I love the whole co-mentor thingy, anything that forces him to be around you bc otherwise he’s off hiding somewhere moping. Like imagine being depressed together, fighting over your different tastes in drinks or coping. He’s hugging a whole bottle of liquor or maybe wine if it’s fancy enough and he’s scrutinizing your fruity cocktail like it’s any of his business.

Especially love the thought of getting drunk with him, at this point he just falls asleep when he’s buzzed but he’s trying to stay awake just to bicker and get as much of a reaction from you as he can. The only time he shuts up is if you roast tf out of him, he’d slump down into a chair or on the couch mumbling something barely coherent and then he’s out like a light.

Or, even better, you’re both sleepy drunks and start nodding off at the bar. You barely remember the walk to bed, all you know is somehow you’re still arguing with Haymitch. He throws himself onto the mattress, your mattress, both to piss you off and because he’s too burnt out to bother walking to his own bed across the hall. You flop down next to him and then all of a sudden you’re waking up hungover and half hugging that fool. The both of you freak out to find you’re in bed with one another, fearing the worst, and eventually having to accept the harsh reality that you spent the whole night cuddling and nothing more.

He doesn’t just refuse to admit he likes you, he’s literally oblivious to even the idea of it. No he definitely doesn’t enjoy your company, and he definitely doesn’t seek you out, and there’s no way he would ever think about you outside of your brief and unfortunate interactions. But then you start joking around talking about some pretty celebrity or a handsome victor from another district and suddenly he’s so defensive.

“Her? She’s two faced.”

“Him? He’s not even average.”

“Them? They’re frugal.”

He can’t even begin to realize he’s getting jealous, he’s too busy trying to shoot down all your compliments to these half baked crushes.

But if you compliment him he thinks you’re joking. You say he looks handsome and he’s all “Haha, very funny, y’know you look good too- with your mouth shut.” He’s gonna go for the jugular, but also he finds it getting harder and harder to insult you. Since when did your annoying smile become something he could tolerate? He must still be drunk..

You’ve wormed your way into his life and his head and suddenly you’re over at his house in the Victor’s Village, cleaning up for him while talking about self care and how he deserves it. You’re infuriating, and yet his lawn is trimmed and his walkway is clear of weeds and even his bookshelves are free of dust- and maybe he should go outside for a bit today and get some fresh air.

You’re tidying everything up and then he’s bringing you some old Knick Knacks, keeping track of your hobbies so he can leave you gifts, forcing you to sit down and relax for a minute between daily stressors. You call him an enabler and the laughter that follows makes your heart all fuzzy in the worst way. Every time you do something for him he thanks you in a way that makes it clear he didn’t think anyone would ever do this for him. And when you thank him for his gifts, his occasional reality checks, and his unwilling hospitality, he can’t help but feel more proud than he should that something he did held even an ounce of substance in your life.

How do you even confess??? Do you??? It’s like one second nothing was there and the next you both just agreed that you were a thing, end of discussion. He’s yours, you’re his. You’ve basically moved in at this point, and you’ve been egging him on and showing him he’s worth the effort, and it’s starting to get through his thick skull that maybe there’s worth in improvement. You don’t fix him, as I said before, he’s stubborn, but he finds his own rationale getting weaker and weaker each time he tries to argue why he should go out for drinks tonight. And then when things break and you’re telling him just what he means to you, he’s finding himself falling into you like a damn safety net.

And once he’s got you he is not letting go.

Protective is one thing, this man is clingy. Like Velcro. But he’s a brat and he’s not going to let you tell him how needy he is, it’s just a coincidence that he’s always by your side. He’ll say he’s “keeping you in line” its “your fault” because you’re in his way, but you both know he’s been following you around on his own fruition. He’s attached to your hip at this point, literally. He has a particular affinity though, and that’s hugging you from behind. He just comes up like he owns the place and wraps his arms around your midsection, shoving his face into the back of your neck with the biggest sigh he can muster. And if you reach up to play with his hair that’s it, he’s going to drag you to whatever couch is closest and have an impromptu nap session.

Also did I mention he’s petty? Because he is. And he’s annoying unlike anything. You go to sit down in a chair? He’s already seated in it, patting for you to come into his lap. You want to try a bite of his food? He’s making you take it from his mouth. You need to shower? He’s asking to come so he can keep you company. And if you let him join you, he’s 100% sitting there watching while going on about how “you missed a spot” just to see how irritated you can get.

Letting him come into the bathroom with you when you shower is like making a deal with the devil. This man is going above and beyond for your attention while you’re trying to focus on the task at hand. He’s definitely offering to help you out, saying he can scrub your back for you and all that, it’s up to you whether you let him join or kick him out.

Either way after you’re done he’s so soft and tender, wrapping you in a towel and drying your face off, saying you look like a drowned rat while also telling you that you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. He ruffles your hair with the towel just to squeeze it around you and grab you by your waist, pulling you until you kiss him. But if you’re still mad at him he’ll keep drying you off and messing with you until he can get you to crack a smile, and then he’s peppering kisses all over your cheeks as you push his face away.

He’s a nuisance, but he’s your nuisance, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Ummm anywho that’s all I got 🙏

Katherine Luann Morrow

☆★-> // SOA Masterlist// <-★☆

All posts where Katherine appears:

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

♡ Fun and Responsibility

♡ Princess Band-aids Can Fix Broken Hearts

♡ Muffin Dragon and Blue Bunny (new)

♡ Hopscotch Headache

♡ Too Young For Boys

♡ Freedom and Florals

♡ Boxes and Orange Juice

♡ Flower Crowns

♡ Flower Crowns Pt.2

Daughter to Clay and Gemma

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

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

Mrs Miller and the florists v

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

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

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

Her apartment inspo:

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

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

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

m.list - spencer reid (cont.)

masterlist #1 / masterlist #2

spencer tries to hide his hickeys but it doesn't work

spencer's daughter struggles with her grades

spencer's touchy

nsfw headcanons for spencer

you prank spencer by wiping off his kisses

spencer stands up for you

spencer finds out you cut your hair

spencer's glasses fog up during sex

you crochet something for spencer

you listen to spencer's ramblings | 2

spencer's a munch

spencer helps you through airsickness on the jet

spencer gives you a key to his apartment

spencer helps you stop biting your nails

someone asks to buy you a drink while you're out with spencer

break, bite, bang

you bake with spencer

hotch tries to set you, his niece, up with spencer

professor!reid

the team meets spencer's girlfriend for the first time

it's safer to kiss

dbf!spencer x hotchner!reader

spencer's worried about your Girl Dinner

spencer gets along with your dad

you get cuteness aggression around spencer

you don't recognize spencer when you're drunk

spencer degrades you during sex

you protect spencer from his peanut allergy

you have a higher sex drive than spencer

you're a very affectionate drunk around spencer | 2

spencer helps you, hotch's daughter, study for college

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。BITE THE HAND — JACK ABBOT.

pairings: jack abbot x resident!reader

warnings: smut, hurt/comfort, angst, 18+ minors dni, age-gap implied-ish

summary: being casual with jack abbot was never going to be easy, and soon you realize that you've fallen for a man who's afraid of love

author's note: wow i went crazy writing this but this has been a week from hell so i made this to cope, hope you all enjoy! again, this is not proofread AND my requests are open

masterlist | read on ao3

wc: 5.4k

Jack Abbot was an enigma, a puzzle that you were desperate to solve. At first, you deluded yourself into thinking you could settle for pieces of him. That the stolen kisses, simmering looks, and dark rooms would be enough for you.

But it wasn't—of course it wasn't.

Because outside of the hospital, the list of people you saw consistently was small. And if you excluded the people you worked with, that left only one or two names. Somehow, Jack managed to snake his way to the top of the list.

It was the little things at first: asking you to get a drink after work. Slowly, but surely, it became a routine where you'd all meet in the park for a drink, and afterwards you and Jack continued the night at a nearby bar.

Then, it was walking you home after, lingering outside the front of your apartment building, and then your front door. It didn't take long for you to start inviting him in, offering a glass of water or a snack before he started his walk back. All these subtle moves felt like he was giving you the opportunity over and over again to turn him down.

You wouldn't because there wasn't a world where you said no to Jack Abbot.

There was a part of you that needed him, any part that he was willing to share.

So the first time he caged you between his arms against the wall, his breaths hard and heavy, you could've sworn your heart dropped into your stomach. Your legs turned into jelly, and if it wasn't for the wall's support, you absolutely would've slid to the ground.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

One last chance to say no, to save yourself from the rollercoaster seeing him would be.

"Yes," you said quietly, but not weakly. There was a beat, where the weight of your words hung in the air for the two of for the two of you to contend with.

And then his lips were on yours, and it felt like God himself was smiling down on you. Like the universe was finally rewarding you after every heartbreak, every sleepless night, every time you've ever felt unwanted. His hands found purchase in your hair, one sliding down to your waist and gripping it, pulling you closer to him in the process.

Your hands traveled up his neck, feeling the stubble on his jaws and cheek scrape against them as they cupped the sides of his face, bringing him impossibly closer to you. Your lips moved in sync, a dance that only you two knew, a rhythm that was in your blood. He pulled away slightly, staring at you through lidded eyes before dipping his head and sucking on your neck, biting that sweet spot just below your ear.

An involuntary moan slipped out before you could stop it, a sound that startled and embarrassed you, but seemed to only encourage Jack. He pressed his knee in-between your legs, spreading them apart so he could slot himself in between, his thigh pressing into your crotch.

"You like that?" He whispered, his voice low in your ear as you gripped his biceps, nails digging into them from the pressure. You nodded, your hips jerking and grinding down against his thigh. "Use your words for me."

"Keep going, please," the words tumbled out, leaving you breathless. Your hands went to the hem of his scrub top, fiddling with the hem before pulling it off him. He threw it somewhere behind him, not caring where it went.

For the first time since you've met him, you were seeing Jack come undone. He was finally losing that composure that he worked so hard to keep during all his shifts with you, finally letting you see the hold you've had on him for months now.

His hands dropped to the backs of your thighs before he whispered another command.

"Jump.

You jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. He walked backwards and turned, heading into deeper into your apartment about to cross a boundary he hadn't since meeting you.

"First door on the left," you directed him, before attacking his neck again in the same way he did you. You kissed up to his jaw before capturing his mouth into a kiss again.

The door creaked open distantly, and Jack walked you to the bed before gently lowering you onto the mattress, never breaking the kiss. His entire body moved to cover yours, his crotch grinding down against in yours in a way that made the both of you moan. You felt him undo the button to the long sleeve you were in, as you already changed out of your scrubs before leaving PTMC.

He leaned back, giving you the space to sit up and pull your shirt over your head. When you could see again, he was staring at you with a look in his eyes that you couldn't place. If it were anyone else, you would've felt self-conscious, but for some reason, with him you didn't. He reached out, brushing the strap on your shoulder and tracing down to your forearm, before looking back at you.

"Are you sure?" He asked again. Another chance, another way out. You answered by climbing into his lap, grinding down on him and kissing him deeply, your breaths becoming one. He leaned until his back hit the mattress, keeping you securely on top of him. You felt his arms go around you, his hands fiddling with the clasp of your bra until it finally snapped free and you shrugged it off. You dropped to the left, rolling him back on top of you while staying connected through a kiss.

He began to kiss down your chest, kissing over the swell of your breast and swirling your nipple in his mouth. A shudder ran through you at the contact, your back arching off the mattress slightly and he pulled you closer to him, giving each one equal attention. He continued his trail of kisses down your stomach, stopping just before the button of your jeans.

You made quick work of undoing the button and zipper, letting Jack slide both your pants and underwear off you, finally leaving you bare in front of him. He kissed down your inner thigh all the way to your folds, and you felt him rub against them with his hand.

"Already so wet for me," he mused, before sliding one, then two in, pumping slowly. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time, as if daring you to break eye contact first. Finally, he lowered himself to your clit, sucking and swirling as he worked his fingers in and out, the combination driving you over the edge. A coil began to tighten around your lower stomach, and as he quickened his pace and moved with brutal efficiency, you felt it snap and burst and a wave of ecstasy washed over you. He held you the entire way through, one hand wrapped around your thigh anchoring you to the bed.

When you finally came back down and stopped trembling, he rose from his knees and hovered over you again, a soft smile on his face. You reached out to touch his face, your thumb running over his lips as he lowered himself to you again, tasting yourself on his lips. You pulled away, leaning your forehead against his and breathing heavily as you undid the knot of his scrubs, helping him slide them off. He was in briefs, his bulge evident and throbbing as you cupped him them. He let out a low groan as one of your fingers hooked under the hem of the underwear, tugging at it slightly.

"I want it off," you said, and Jack obeyed. He stood, sliding down the briefs and his erection sprung free. He was hard already, precum beading at top and dripping down the side. You rose to your knees to meet him halfway, pulling him into a kiss as you wrapped your hand around him and pumped slowly.

He let out a breathy moan, one that went straight to your core. He was the first to pull away this time, leaning his forehead against yours as the two of you watched you work him slowly. When you moved to lower yourself he stopped, gripping onto your elbows.

"No?" You questioned, and he shook his head. He helped you back up before pushing you gently onto the bed again, moving to cover you with himself again.

"I'm all about you tonight," he said, positioning himself at your entrance. You felt the head prod against you, and you could've sworn you felt a shock. "Ready?"

"Yes."

He kissed you, this time sweet and soft in a way you would have never expected from him. When he finally sunk in you tensed, and he murmured encouraging words into your ear, telling you to relax and that he'd move slow. You listened, letting your body become more pliable as you moved with him, your bodies becoming one. After a few thrusts, he began to pick up the pace, lifting your thigh at an angle so he could get in deeper. When he started to hit that spot that always pushed you over the edge you gasped, throwing your arms around his neck pulling him down to you, your nails digging into his back.

"That's it, that's my girl," he said, continuing his brutal pace, "You're doing so good for me."

It was all too much, every feeling was overwhelming. You wanted more, you wanted all of him, you couldn't get enough. The coil began to tighten again, and this time when it snapped, you didn't hold back in the slightest. You muffled your cries with his shoulder, biting into it as you rode the wave of your second orgasm. His pace quickened until it peaked, his whole body shaking as you felt him reach his peak as well. When he came back down, his thrusts were sloppy until he finally pulled out.

He collapsed on the other side of you, both of you panting and not saying a word. You knew he'd be good, but you didn't expect it to be that good.

And that was the night that started it all, this push and pull between the two of you. Both of you had agreed to keep it private it from the rest of your coworkers, not wanting to be the newest piece of gossip that entertains them during the rare moments of peace in their shift. If Princess and Perlah caught a whiff of this, it'd be over.

"You're in a good mood today," Robby noted as you came out of a patients room after finishing your rounds.

"They finally fixed the leak in my apartment, today is a great day," you explained, giving him a half-truth. That leak was very annoying, and the drip-drip-drip sound was beginning to keep you up at night. Or at least it kept you up when Jack wasn't.

"Repairs always put a smile on my face too," he mused, "But never one that big."

He was gone before you could say anything, and you knitted your eyebrows in confusion. Everyone else behaved normally that day, except for Collins and Mohan, who eyed you a little suspiciously when the three of you had lunch in the lounge later that day. It wasn't until you overheard Princess and Perlah whispering behind you when you were doing a restock of supplies. When you turned to face them, they both stopped and simply smiled, waved, and disappeared immediately.

You got your answers when you cornered Whitaker on his way to make rounds.

"What do you know?"

"What?" He asked, looking more skittish than usual. His eyes scanned the surroundings, as if he was looking for an excuse to get out of this conversation. You blocked his path with your body, smiling in a way that was downright terrifying to him.

"Let me rephrase: what's everyone whispering about?"

He caved almost immediately.

"We're betting on you and Abbot," he rushed out. Your jaw dropped and you backed away, allowing him to take off before you could ask more questions.

How did anyone start to suspect? You wondered. It's not like the two of you were constantly together on shift. Hell, you rarely saw each other shift unless it was to congregate in a small group to chat before everything fell into chaos again. Your dynamic hadn't changed either: he was just as reserved with you as he was everyone else.

One time, you laughed at a joke he made along with everyone else, and out of reflex you touched his arm. As if you were a blazing fire, he immediately withdrew from you, clearing his throat and declaring that he needed to go catch up on charts. At the time, only Dana seemed to notice the way you retreated into yourself afterwards, and that you became slightly more withdrawn for the rest of the shift.

That incident led to another conversation between you and Jack, where you tried to force him to admit his feelings for you. Instead of admitting anything, he drew a boundary: that this needed to be casual, that you couldn't expect anything else from him. You were a bit taken aback at the time, but you didn't blame him. You had only been seeing each other for about three weeks at that point.

But now, it's been almost two months, and the lines are beginning to blur for you. He had slept over this morning, and was still in your bed when you left for the day shift. By now, he was probably awake and in your kitchen making breakfast.

Not very casual of you, you thought, walking back to the board to find a patient.

The breaking point for you didn't come for another week, when you were having an exceptionally terrible shift. You were a good doctor, in fact, you believed you would be great. But, having three patients code on you back to back is enough to make anyone feel like shit, especially when one of them was a long-time patient who you had known for a little over a year at this point.

You sat on the roof, legs dangling off the edge as you stared down at the busy street below. The cars whizzed by, but the pedestrians walked leisurely. It was nice to remind yourself that there was something out there, outside of PTMC, that made it all worth it. But recently, you had been struggling to remember what that thing is. It was hard for you to leave work at the door when you got home when it seemed to be your entire life. Truthfully, there was nothing for you outside of PTMC. All your friends were there.

Was that sad? Maybe. But you had never really minded that until right now, when you wanted nothing more than to take your mind off this shitty night.

"You're in my spot," a voice said from behind you, and your blood ran cold. He was the last person you wanted to speak to right now, especially not in this state.

"Go away," you grumbled, not turning to face him. His footsteps got closer, and you didn't have to look to know that his hands were in his pockets and he had a wide stance. Typical Jack.

"Well, I don't think I can do that. Not when you're half off the ledge. I'd be breaking my oath if I left you right now."

You rolled your eyes, but nonetheless, you got up to your feet, using the railing for support. You turned to face him, an irritated look on your face.

"Happy?"

"Ecstatic." The two of you stood there for a while, the railing separating you, daring the other to be the first to break the silence.

"Ellis said you were up here, tough shift for you," he explained, even though you didn't ask.

"Nice of her to notice," you mused. He chuckled, shifting his weight between both legs.

"It wasn't your—,"

"Fault? I know it wasn't, but it still feels that way. Besides, I don't want to talk about it."

Not with you, you added silently in your head.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Nothing, I want you to go back inside and let me have my roof-time. Alone." He feigned being hurt, but he didn't move. Just stared at you in the intense way he always does.

You didn't look away.

"I'm sorry, have I upset you? If I did, I'm—,"

"What do you think?" He genuinely looked puzzled, and you sighed. Men, they never learn, do they? "What the hell are we doing here?"

"I'm lost," he deadpanned, and you let out an exasperated sigh.

"With us! What is going on? One day, you can't get enough of me and you look at me like I've hung the moon and stars. The next, you act like I killed your cat and made you watch. I can't keep bouncing between these two extremes, it's too confusing." Especially not when the two of you are laying in bed, not even having done anything, but he's holding you so tight it's as if he's scared you're gonna disappear the minute he let's go.

"Y/N," he began, getting that look of pity in his eyes that you've always hated. Like he's realizing for the first time in his life that his actions have consequences, and now he has to take responsibility for them, "I'm sorry. I can't, you know I can't."

He reached for you but you backed away from his touch, narrowing your eyes at him.

"I don't know anything, Jack, because you don't tell me anything. You hold me, and everyone else, at an arm's length. You never let me in. You don't let anyone in. I guess this is my fault, right? You told me casual, and I said yes, and then I was stupid enough to fall for you," you spat, each word making you angrier and angrier.

"You're not stupid," he insisted, stepping closer but careful not to let his arm brush yours as he gripped the railing, "I've never felt this way about someone before. Never."

"And what exactly am I supposed to do with that? Know that you think I'm good enough to fuck, but not date? Thanks, but no thanks."

"I'm not saying that--,"

"Then what are you saying?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it, scared of himself saying words he knew he wouldn't be able to take back. You scoffed, shaking your head and cursing under your breath.

"I don't want to do this anymore," you said finally, swinging yourself under the railing and popping out on the other side, "I hope you're happy."

You rarely spoke or saw Jack for the next couple of weeks, strategically signing up for shifts that had minimal overlap with him. If anyone noticed, no one outright said anything to you, but you wouldn't expect them to. On the bright side, there seemed to be a lot less whispering going on whenever you happened to be alone.

So much for that bet, huh?

In all honesty, you had been sad at first. Sad was generous--you were a wreck in the beginning. But you were certain to not ever let it show at work. Once you got to PTMC, you left your baggage at the door, just like everyone else. You were your same bubbly self, making the same jokes and jabs with McKay and Mohan as if it were any other day. You even still went to the park afterwards, only sometimes drinking a beer to let off steam. Jack would be there as well, watching you with an intensity you refused to acknowledge. Still, you didn't change your behavior towards him, treating him with the indifference you'd treat any other colleague.

Because that's what you were now: colleagues. Not even friends, because your friends would never treat you the way he did.

"Hey, instead of the park some of us were thinking of going to a dive bar after, you in?" Mateo asked, falling into step beside you as you both headed to triage.

"Who's coming?"

"The usual, some people on the night shift took the day off today so they might make an appearance. Ellis, Shen, Abbot--Walsh is a hit or miss though." Your heart stuttered at the mention of Jack's name, but you kept your composure.

"Sounds good, I might be a little late though I have to go home first." Mateo smiled and nodded just as you pushed through the double doors, immediately greeted by the chaos of an ER waiting room. You both called out the names of different patients, ushering them inside efficiently before letting the doors shut behind you.

"I'm surprised he's coming," Samira said, cracking open a cider and sitting on your couch as you finished getting ready. You decided to take a quick shower after your shift once someone threw up you--twice. You passed by your vanity and paused, considering putting some light makeup on. Then you remembered you had no way of taking it off as you ran out of makeup wipes earlier that day, and had no way of taking it off when you came back.

"Who's coming? Whitaker?" Samira laughed, sipping at her cider before continuing.

"You know who I'm talking about, Abbot's coming." Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Why would that be weird? Doesn't he always?"

"Definitely not on his day off, when he could be resting or doing whatever it is he does in his free time." You shrugged, opening your fridge to grab a cider for yourself.

"Well, it's not like I care. Or I guess I can't let myself care. He couldn't be what I needed him to, and I can't wait around hoping that one day he'll wake up and be the person I believe he is. I'm too accomplished to wait around on a guy like that," you popped the tab before adding, "You and I both are."

Samira cheered to that and you both took large swigs of the can. You squeezed your eyes shut and made a face, forgetting how tart the citrus flavor usually was. You spent the rest of your two-person pregame debriefing about work and fun cases you got, and also set a deadline for the two of you to start booking flights for Montreal--the vacation you guys were supposed to take two months ago.

Once you guys finished one can, you started the short walk to Ray's. Your apartment was much closer than Mohan's, which is why the two of you decided to meet up first and head over together. It was a Wednesday night, so it was mostly empty. There were a few random strangers playing pool in the corner, one of them catching your eye and lingering for a little too long.

"There they are!" Samira pointed to what you recognized to be the back of Mateo's head, leading the two of you over there. McKay was the first to notice you two, sliding over to make space for you on her side of the booth. On the other side of her sat Collins, Whitaker, and Santos. Across from you was Samira, followed by Mateo, Javadi, Robby, and Jack. You nodded hello at them all, careful not to linger on Jack for too long.

"So, what are we drinking?" you asked, pretending to skim the menu even though you ordered the same thing every time.

"Let's do a round of Bold Rock," Jack answered, putting his menu down and looking straight at you, "First round's on me." The weight of his stare did something funny to your throat, a reaction you weren't expecting to have.

"You know me so well," you teased, playing it cool and refusing to be anything but levelheaded. Samira glanced at you, gauging your reaction, but you just smiled before turning and jumping into conversation. The nine of you ended up getting three rounds, with Collins being the voice of reason to talk you guys out of a fourth round. You pouted, but knew it was for the best: nothing was worse than working a day shift hungover.

About two hours later, everyone remaining was ready to leave. Javadi, Whitaker, Samira, and Santos all left slightly earlier, claiming that they needed to catch the next train or else they'd have to walk. You slid out of the booth and headed towards the bathroom, proud of yourself for not peeing every other minute considering how much you drank. You splashed a bit of water on your face, hoping to wake and sober you up.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, you bumped into a hard mass. The stranger apologized, and when you looked up, you realized it was the guy from the pool table.

"I was hoping I'd run into you tonight," he mused, leaning against the wall and flashing you a dimpled smile. He was cute: the shirt he was wearing hugged his chest and biceps in a very flattering way, his hair curled and styled strategically to frame his face. But still, you didn't want him.

"Thanks, but no thanks," you replied, moving to step around him. He blocked your path with his body, boxing you in between him and the wall.

"Come on, that's no way to treat a friendly stranger, is it?" The politeness drained out of your body, not wanting to let him waste another second of your time.

"Move or I scream," you said flatly. You had done it a million times before, and you weren't afraid to keep doing it.

"What?" he asked, mildly amused by your antics. Before he had the chance to say anything sleazy, you opened your mouth and let out a shrill shriek, one that had him jumping back with his hands up as if to prove his innocence. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I should be asking you that," you shoved past him, leaving the bathroom hallway to return to the main room of the bar. As you reached for the door, it swung open, revealing a panicked Jack, with the others close on his tail.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his breath beginning to even out now that he saw you in one piece.

"Peachy," you replied, stepping around him. He turned and followed you out, puzzled by your calm demeanor.

"Was that you screaming? What happened?" McKay asked immediately, Robby and Mateo flanking her on both sides. You shrugged, walking back to the booth to grab your purse and jacket.

"Nothing, just some asshole. They never seem to believe me when I say I'll scream," you laughed to yourself, reminiscing on all the times you had gone out with friends in college and came up with more and more absurd ways to get guys to stop flirting with you. "Seriously, I'm fine. But I'm getting tired now, so can we go please?"

Together, the group headed out of Ray's. Quickly, you all branched off, all of you living in different parts of Pittsburgh. Notably, Jack seemed to linger until it was just the two of you left.

"What are you doing?" you asked, knowing how this story went. How it seemed to always go.

"I'll walk you," he decided, starting in the direction of your apartment. It was easier to just follow him than waste your time arguing.

The walk back was silent, neither of you eager to be the first to speak. It was a comfortable silence, one that felt too familiar. You glanced over at Jack, but his eyes were trained on the sky as he looked deep in thought. When you rounded the corner and pulled up on your block, you half-expected his steps to slow, for him to watch from a distance as you entered the building.

But no, and just like he used to, he walked you all the way to the door.

"Can we talk?" he asked suddenly as you began to enter the gate code. Your hand dropped, not pressing the final key, and you turned to face him.

"Sure, let's talk." He looked past you, eyeing the door, then back at you.

"Do you want to go inside?"

"Nope, I'm good right here."

You needed to stand your ground. Besides, coming into your apartment was something you let friends do. Samira was a friend. McKay was a friend. Hell, even if Robby was a friend. But Jack lost that privilege.

He blew out a breath, taking his hands out of his pockets and looking up at you. In the entire time you've known him, this was the most vulnerable you've ever seen him look.

"I was scared of you," he admitted, "You were this brilliant, beautiful, bright thing in my life, and I felt like I didn't deserve you. You knew what you wanted and went for it, and I admired that about you. I still do. When we had that first conversation about what we were, I was in denial. I told myself that if we kept it casual, I wouldn't be at risk."

"At risk of what?"

"Losing you."

"Funny how that worked out," you mumbled grudgingly, still not entirely sure where he was going with this. Jack laughed quietly, looking down at his shoes, then back up at you with something shining in his eyes.

"Even now, you still don't falter. You are the strongest woman I have ever met, Y/N. You are also one of the smartest doctors I have ever worked beside, and you never failed to blow me away with every shift we worked together. "

Your breathing turned shallow, and you stood frozen on the doorstep. Jack took a few steps towards, stopping just before the first step.

"You scare me because I want to love you, and I don't know how. I have no idea how to be the man you want me to be, the one you deserve, the one you expect. I thought it was easier to give up altogether, but I was wrong, and I am so, deeply sorry for that Y/N. This past month without you made me realize how engrained in my life you were. I missed your texts, the way you'd always try new recipes that would fail and we'd have to order something for dinner, and how no matter what, you always showed up for the people depending on you. I think the world of you, Y/N, I really do. And I love you. I loved you during that first conversation, but just didn't know it. I loved you when I walked away from you on the roof, and I was scared of it. And I have loved and missed you every second since."

He paused briefly, searching your eyes for an answer. If it wasn't for the fact that you could hear your heart loudly thumping in your ears right now, you would've thought you'd died and gone to heaven.

"I want to be that man for you, Y/N, if you'll let me."

A moment passed, and then another, and another. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words died in your throat before you could get any out. So, you went for the next best thing.

You grabbed him by the collar and crashed your lips against his, one of your hands moving to the side of his neck and the other cradling his jaw. His hands snaked around your waist, somehow pulling you even closer. You were the one to pull away, resting your forehead against his.

"Yes," you answered, a little breathlessly at that. The corners of his mouth lifted, his hand going under your chin and tilting your head up so that he could look at you.

"Yes?" he repeated, still reeling from the shock of the moment. This time you nodded, and the smile spread like wildfire across his face. He pressed a kiss to your nose before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and guiding you both towards the front door.

"I'm not having sex with you tonight," you said, punching in the code to the door. Jack chuckled, pulling you in again.

"I wasn't expecting you too."

"Good. And you need to shower before getting in my bed, no outside clothes," you added, leading him down the hallway to your apartment.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said, following you into your apartment once you unlocked it. He swung the door shut behind him as you kicked of your shoes.

"And I believe in second chances, but that's it. If you decide to pull away again, know--,"

"I won't," he reassured you, his fingers sliding into your belt loops and tugging you towards him, "I want you. Only you. All of you."

"I could get used to that," you thought aloud, earning a laugh from the both of you. You leaned into him, closing your eyes and basking in this moment that you thought would never happen.

-

please reblog, like, and comment <3

aaahh hi hello! :)

first thing, i just wanted to say how much i love the way you write for jack and robby. you capture their personalities so well! reading your works are an absolute treat. <3

second, would it be possible to request something for robby? he finds out that his wife was in a really bad accident on her way to work, so she's rushed to the hospital and admitted to their icu?

tysm, and keep up the amazing work!

And You Came Back to Me

content/warning : Serious car accident, medical trauma, cardiac arrest, emergency resuscitation, hospitalization/ICU setting, emotional distress, PTSD symptoms, brief combat/military reference, grief response, partner fear, sibling care, recovery from near-death experience. Heavy emotional themes including flashbacks, guilt, and the fragility of healing.

word count : 3,791

a/n ; Wrote this as an exploration of what happens in the quiet after chaos—the weight of routine, the people who stay, and the small ways grief and love show up at once.

He should’ve kissed you longer.

That’s the first thing that slams through Robby’s chest when the officer says your name.

Not doctor. Not sir. Just: “Mr. Robinavitch, your wife’s been in a serious accident.”

It doesn’t register—not fully. Not until the next words hit him like shrapnel:

“She was unconscious at the scene. EMS is transporting her to Allegheny General now.”

And suddenly, time snaps backward—throws him hard against the wall of the morning. Back to the kitchen. To the quiet hum of NPR on the radio. To the faint smell of burnt toast from the toaster—because you always forget about it halfway through brushing your teeth. He’s told you a hundred times to stop using the “max crisp” setting. You always say, “It’s faster.”

Back to the sound of your heels on the tile as you rushed in—already dressed, hair still damp and twisted into that messy bun you always called “professional enough.”

“Shit,” you muttered, digging through your purse. “I’m running late. Can you zip me up?”

He should’ve stopped what he was doing.

Should’ve set down the mug. Turned fully toward you. Looked at you the way he used to—like you were something he still couldn’t quite believe was real.

But he was distracted. Reading the news. Checking an overnight lab update. Half-listening to McKay complain in the group chat about last night’s board decision.

So instead, he reached out automatically. Took hold of the zipper. Pulled it up the back of your dress like he’s done a hundred times before.

A quiet, familiar ritual.

“Thanks, babe,” you said, glancing over your shoulder with a soft smile.

He leaned in, kissed the back of your neck, right where your hair curled against your skin.

“You look beautiful,” he said. Distracted. Sincere, but distracted.

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

You laughed and turned away to grab your keys.

He should’ve stopped you. Should’ve wrapped his arms around your waist, rested his chin on your shoulder, whispered something dumb and tender and marriage-soft like Don’t go to work. Stay home. Let’s be irresponsible. Should’ve asked about the dream you mumbled in your sleep. Should’ve paid attention when you said, “I might take the highway if traffic’s clear—I’m too late for the long route.”

You hated the highway. Said it made you feel like one wrong move could ruin everything. Said the backroads felt safer—winding, tree-lined, steady. He teased you for it. Called you dramatic. But he always agreed.

Take the long way. What’s ten more minutes if it means peace of mind?

And this morning—God—he hadn’t even thought to remind you.

“You driving in or Ubering?” he asked, eyes still on his phone.

“Driving. Highway if I have to. Don’t yell.”

“Just… text me when you get there.”

“I always do.”

You smiled.

He didn’t look up.

You walked out the door.

Now a stranger is telling him you were rear-ended at 70 miles per hour, spun into a guardrail, crushed on the driver’s side. That EMS pulled you from the wreckage with the jaws of life. That you weren’t responsive. That you lost a lot of blood.

That they’re bringing you in.

To him.

To his ER. His trauma bay. His staff.

And you might not survive the trip.

He should’ve kissed you longer.

He should’ve kissed you like it was the last time.

Because maybe—it was.

He drops the phone in the stairwell.

He’s moving before his mind catches up—down the steps, through the ER corridor, and straight into the trauma bay. The doors slam open so hard they shake on their hinges.

“Where is she?” His voice breaks as it rips out of his throat.

Dana’s the first to reach him. She’s just stepped off the elevator—chart in one hand, coffee in the other.

“She just came in,” she says immediately. “Langdon’s leading. Mateo is on the vent. Santos and Javadi are in the room—”

“Where is she?”

The way he says it this time—it’s not procedural. It’s not about who’s on what. It’s you. There’s a tremor in his voice now, something raw enough to cut through Dana’s usual calm.

She steps in his path.

“Robby,” she says gently—too gently. She never uses that voice. Not with him.

“She coded in the rig.”

He flinches like she slapped him. The hallway tilts.

“They got her back,” Dana rushes to add, because the look in his eyes unravels something in her. “But it’s bad. She’s not—she’s not conscious.”

He doesn’t stop to respond.

Robby just shrugs off Dana’s hand and barrels toward Trauma One, like his body’s moving on instinct—like it never forgot how to find you.

And then he sees you.

You’re nearly lost in the swarm of bodies around you, but he’d know you anywhere—even battered and broken, even with your hair soaked through and clinging to your face in tangled strands. One of your feet is bare. Your dress—that dress, the blue one you joked made you look like a lawyer even though you worked in nonprofit, the one he remembers zipping up hours ago—has been sliced clean down the center. Blood saturates the fabric, blooming across it like ink in water, until there’s barely any blue left at all.

Mateo is squeezing the ambu bag. Javadi’s covered in sweat, glove smeared in something dark. Langdon is barking orders like his throat is full of glass.

Robby freezes in the doorway.

Langdon doesn’t even look at him. Just shouts, “Get him out of here!”

Dana’s behind him again. This time, she doesn’t touch him. Just steps into his line of vision and holds it.

“You know better. Let them work.”

“That’s my wife. That’s Jack’s sister.”

Santos’ voice breaks—just barely. “She’s got internal bleeding. If we can’t stabilize her, we’re opening the chest.”

And there it is.

Robby’s hand slams against the doorframe. He backs away without realizing he’s doing it.

He ends up in Observation 2.

He doesn’t remember walking there. Doesn’t know how long he stands in the dark before someone—maybe Perlah—sets a bottle of water beside him. He doesn’t touch it.

He’s never felt like this before. Like the air is too thick. Like he’s breathing cement.

Jack shows up ten minutes later. Not in scrubs—he’s in a weather-beaten field jacket and dark jeans, the kind of outfit that’s survived its fair share of long nights. There’s rain slicking his shoulders, water dripping from the cuffs like he didn’t bother with an umbrella. Or didn’t care.

“They told me,” Jack says, low.

Robby doesn’t move.

“I came as soon as—”

“She took the fucking highway.”

Jack is quiet.

“She never takes the highway. I—I always tell her to take 51. She hates the on-ramps. Says they make her feel like she’s gonna die. She said it, Jack. She said it.”

Jack nods, slowly, but his posture is all wrong—too still, too rigid. Like he’s holding something in. His jaw is locked, eyes fixed somewhere over Robby’s shoulder like if he looks at him directly, he’ll break.

“Yeah,” he finally says, voice rough and frayed. “She told me that too. Said the on-ramps made her feel like the road would disappear underneath her. When we were kids, she’d make me walk the long way to school just to avoid the underpass near 18th. Three extra blocks. Every morning.”

He exhales, sharp and uneven. “She’d hold my sleeve like she thought the wind might carry her off if she let go.”

The pause that follows isn’t empty. It’s full—tight with every year Jack spent being the big brother. Every time he covered for you. Every scraped knee, every school project, every time he stood between you and the door while your parents screamed.

Robby sinks down against the wall. His voice is hollow. “She asked me to zip up her dress this morning.” He swallows hard. “I didn’t even look at her. Not really. I was reading emails. I kissed her neck and said, ‘Text me when you get there.’”

Jack doesn’t answer. Doesn’t offer reassurance or statistics or hope. He just lowers himself to the floor beside Robby, head bowed like he’s praying to no one in particular.

“You love her,” he says, and there’s no bitterness in it. Just something steady. “You take care of her in a way I never could. You know how to make her feel safe when it’s quiet. How to be soft when she won’t ask for it. I’ve spent my whole life guarding her from the world, and now…”

He trails off, staring at the floor.

“You’re the part of her world I trust the most.”

Robby closes his eyes. His shoulders shake, once.

“I don’t know how to be okay if she doesn’t wake up.”

Jack reaches out, sets a hand firm and grounding on Robby’s shoulder—steady, like he’s done for you a hundred times before.

“Then it’s a good thing you won’t have to be,” Jack says. “Because she’s too damn stubborn to leave either of us.”

And for the first time since the call, Robby lets himself breathe.

The updates come like clockwork.

“She’s holding.”

“We’ve got the bleeding under control.”

“She’s going up to the ICU now. Sedated. Ventilated.”

Robby follows the bed upstairs like a shadow. No one stops him. Not even Langdon, who looks like he’s aged ten years in a single shift.

They set you up in 312A.

You’re pale. Still. Your wedding ring sits in a plastic cup on the tray beside your bed.

He takes your hand.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I’m here. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

You don’t move.

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to your arm. His voice catches.

“Baby, please. Please come back.”

And then—he talks.

About the cat—how she followed you to the door that morning, meowing like she knew something was wrong. How you paused, scooped her up, kissed the top of her head, and whispered, “Hold down the fort, okay? Back before dinner.” Then blew her a kiss like you always did, keys already in hand.

About the coffee mug still sitting in the sink. The one with the chipped handle and the faded red lettering from that anniversary trip to Vermont—the kind of mug that never matched anything else but somehow became your favorite. You used it every morning, even when there were clean ones on the shelf. He used to tease you for it. Then he stopped.

About the basket of laundry half-folded on the couch. A pair of your socks tucked inside one of his. Your blouse still soft from the dryer, draped across the armrest like you might come back and finish putting things away. Like you’d walk in and complain that he always left the fitted sheets for you to deal with.

About the dress you pulled from the closet the night before—how you held it up in the mirror and said, “If this still fits, maybe I’ll wear it next weekend. The red one. You like this one.” And how he didn’t say anything. Just looked at you like you’d already won the room.

It’s those things.

The little ones.

The ones that never get written down or photographed.

The pieces of a life you don’t realize you’re building until everything goes quiet.

“You can’t leave me yet,” he murmurs, voice rough. “I haven’t seen you hold our kid yet. I haven’t told you enough times that you saved my life just by saying yes.”

Day Two

He doesn’t sleep.

Javadi comes by. Says nothing. Just looks through the glass and nods. Collins leaves coffee on the table without a word.

He doesn’t leave your side.

Jack shows up again late that night. Sits with him in the dark.

Neither of them speak. Not until Robby, voice shredded and barely audible, says, “I can’t lose her, Jack.”

Jack just nods. “You won’t.”

“I always figured I’d go first,” Jack says quietly, like the words slipped past his guard. “She’s always been the brave one. Ran toward things I would've flinched from. I was the one who hung back—scanned the exits, counted the risks.”

His jaw clenches. He stares at the floor like he’s trying to make sense of it all from the grain of the tile.

“But when I saw her in that trauma bay…” His voice falters, and he has to force the next words out. “Even in combat, I never felt fear like that. Never felt that kind of helpless.”

Robby doesn’t speak at first. Just sits with it, like the silence might soften the blow.

Then, quietly:

“She told me once she felt safest when she was with the two of us. Like the world couldn’t touch her.”

Jack exhales, slow and uneven. His eyes drift toward the bed—toward where you lie, still and silent beneath the tangle of wires and monitors. Still unmoving. Still too quiet.

Like if he looks long enough, maybe something in you will stir. Maybe you’ll meet his gaze and say his name like it means something.

“She better wake up,” he murmurs. “Because she still owes me twenty bucks. And I’m not letting her off the hook just because she got hit by a truck.”

Day Three.

The room is still. Quiet in a way that feels deliberate—like the air itself is holding its breath. Pale morning light creeps in through the ICU blinds, catching on the sharp corners of machines and the softer curve of your shoulder beneath the hospital blanket. Everything hums: the ventilator, the heart monitor, the sound of plastic tubing shifting slightly when you exhale.

Jack arrives before sunrise.

He doesn’t announce himself. Doesn’t knock. Just moves through the doorway like someone crossing into sacred ground. He sets a cup of black coffee on the counter for Robby—no cream, two sugars, just the way you always made it for him—and then takes the same spot by the wall he’s stood in every day since you were brought in.

Robby hasn’t slept. He’s still in yesterday’s clothes, eyes ringed with exhaustion. His hand hasn’t left yours all night.

They don’t talk for a while. Don’t need to. Jack watches you breathe. Robby counts each rise and fall of your chest like he’s tethered to it.

The moment happens quietly.

Just after nine.

Your fingers twitch. Small. Involuntary, maybe—but real.

Robby jolts forward. “Jack.”

Jack is at his side in an instant, already reaching, already watching. “Do it again,” he whispers, knuckles white where they grip the bed rail. “C’mon, kid. Come back to us.”

And then you do.

Your hand tightens around Robby’s. Weak. Barely there. But deliberate.

Robby exhales like he’s been underwater for days. A strangled sound escapes him—half sob, half stunned relief—and he bows his head to your hand like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the world.

Jack grips the back of Robby’s chair with one hand, the other dragging down his face. His mouth is tight. His eyes wet. But his voice, when it comes, is steady in the way only older brothers can manage.

“She’s fighting.”

The nurses rush in. Langdon appears within minutes. Orders are called out. Sedation is reduced. The ventilator settings are dialed down. But Robby doesn’t move—not from your side, not from your hand.

The change is slow. But it’s there.

Color returning to your cheeks. Lashes twitching. A soft wrinkle between your brows like you’re dreaming, or hurting, or both.

When your eyes finally open, it’s dusk.

They’re glassy. Unfocused.

But they find him.

“Hey, baby.” His voice cracks. “You with me?”

You can’t speak. Not yet. But your eyes do the work.

Then—your fingers tighten in his again.

Jack moves to your side, each step careful. Measured. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t trust his voice not to crack the quiet wide open.

And for a second, something flickers across your face. Recognition. A tear.

It rolls down your cheek and Robby catches it with a shaking hand.

He kisses your fingers. Your knuckles. Your wrist.

“You came back to me.”

Jack looks at you, jaw tight, throat working. Then he mutters, almost to himself, “Damn right she did.”

He doesn’t say more.

He doesn’t have to.

You’re awake.

And they’re both there.

That’s everything.

Three Weeks Later.

The apartment smells like lavender and laundry detergent. Your favorite blanket is folded over the back of the couch, and someone—probably Jack—restocked the kitchen with your exact tea and oatmeal brand, like muscle memory. There are flowers on the table, half-wilted, and a stack of unopened get-well cards beside them that you haven’t yet had the energy to read.

You’re home. And you’re alive.

But nothing feels normal yet.

You’re thinner than you were. Your ribs ache when you turn too fast, and your hands shake when you try to open pill bottles. But you walk. You breathe on your own. You wake up in your own bed next to Robby instead of tangled in ICU tubing.

And Robby—Robby hasn’t let you out of his sight.

He tries to be subtle. Tries to hover without hovering. You catch the way his hand twitches when you lean down to pick something up. The way he stays awake two hours after you’ve fallen asleep, just to make sure your breathing stays steady.

“I’m not going to break,” you tell him one morning, finding him standing in the hallway just outside the bathroom door.

He doesn’t smile. Just steps forward and cups your cheek like it’s second nature—like his hand was always meant to rest there.

“You did,” he says, voice low and frayed at the edges. “You almost died. And I stood there and watched it happen.”

His thumb brushes against your skin, gentle. Reverent.

“So yeah,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “I’m sorry, but I’m gonna be careful with you for a while. You don’t get to scare me like that and expect me to walk away unchanged.”

You don’t argue. Just press your forehead to his and breathe with him.

Jack visits like clockwork. Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays. He always calls ahead, even though you stopped asking him to. He comes with practical things—groceries, multivitamins, takeout from that one Thai place you craved when nothing else would stay down.

He never makes a scene of it. Just moves through your kitchen like it’s routine. Like you didn’t code in the back of an ambulance while he was somewhere else—driving home, bone-tired and still smelling like antiseptic, unaware that your heart had stopped without him there to catch it.

He acts like nothing’s changed. Like you didn’t almost leave him without warning. But the way he watches you when you walk across the room says everything.

“You gonna let me in, or am I just supposed to enjoy the doorframe?” he jokes the first time you’re strong enough to answer it yourself.

“You gonna keep looking at me like I’ve got a ticking clock strapped to my chest?” you fire back.

Jack shrugs. Steps inside. Kisses the top of your head. “You’re still annoying. Good. I was worried.”

That night, you all end up in the living room—curled into Robby’s side on the couch, a blanket tucked around your legs, while Jack settles into the armchair nearby. His prosthetic leans against the side of the chair, balanced carefully where he left it, like it belongs there.

He sits back, one socked foot up, the other leg stretched out and relaxed. Comfortable in a way he rarely lets himself be.

The TV plays some half-watched game on mute, casting flickering light across the room, but no one’s really paying attention. The silence between you feels lived-in, not awkward. Familiar. But still edged with something tender. Like you’re all waiting to exhale at the same time.

The kind of night that feels quiet on purpose.

The kind that says: We’re still here.

“I think I scared you both more than I scared myself,” you murmur, eyes still on the screen.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Jack says, voice low. Honest. Not sharp, not teasing—just stripped down. Like it costs him something to say it out loud.

Robby’s grip around your waist tightens almost instinctively, like he can still feel the echo of that moment—the call, the drive, the trauma bay. His fingers curl against your side, anchoring himself to something warm and alive.

“You don’t get to do that again,” he says, barely above a whisper. “Ever.”

You turn your head then, eyes flicking between them—one sitting too still, the other holding on too tightly. And for the first time all day, you let yourself feel the full shape of what almost happened. What almost broke you.

“I didn’t say this earlier,” Jack says, softer now, voice rough around the edges. “But I meant it. Back at the hospital. You have him. You’re not doing this alone.”

You don’t look at him right away. Just nod, slow, like the words are settling into a place they hadn’t quite reached before. Your eyes sting, but you don’t blink them away.

“I know I’m not,” you murmur.

And you do.

Even on the days it’s hard to feel it.

Healing isn’t linear. Some days you get through without tears, almost like nothing ever happened. Other days, it hits you sideways—over coffee, in the shower, folding laundry—and you’re crying without knowing why.

You haven’t driven yet. Not because you can’t—because you don’t want to.

And everyone understands that.

Robby never asks. He just grabs the keys and opens your door first. Jack doesn’t comment, doesn’t tease—he just takes the driver’s seat without question when it’s his turn.

Even Dana understood. One Saturday, she showed up with oversized sunglasses and a tote bag full of snacks, knocked twice, and said, “Girls’ day. Non-negotiable. Collins is already in the car.”

And sure enough, Collins was in the passenger seat, sipping an iced tea and pretending not to be amused. Dana took the wheel, flipped the radio to something from the nineties, and announced you were starting with pedicures and ending with overpriced appetizers—“and maybe a shoe sale if we’re feeling emotional.”

But tonight, the air is still. Your body is tired, but not heavy. There’s a blanket over your legs, the low hum of the dishwasher in the next room, and two people who never let go—even when you tried to disappear.

You close your eyes.

And for the first time in weeks, you don’t brace for the fall.

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

PREVIOUS CHAPTER FOUND HERE

Slightly NSFW 18+

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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.

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 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.”

𝗮𝗯𝘀𝗼𝗹𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗺𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻

(dr. jack abbot x nurse!reader)

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

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

chapter one;

chapter two;

chapter three;

chapter four;

chapter five;

& more to come

divider credit

Call Back Pt. 2 - Chibs Telford x Reader

It took me forever to write this shit cause my new job has me in a thousand different directions. But here she is. Part two!

“Hey baby.” Gemma says as you walk through the door. You smell the hints of bacon, French toast and of course cigarettes through out the house. “You hungry?” She asks, you kick off your shoes and plop down into the chair at the dining room table.

“I would offer help but looks like you’re done. Smells great.” You say, Gemma smiles and sits down the plate of eggs. You grab your cup, filling it with orange juice. Trying to make yourself comfortable in the chair, your legs still aching from last night.

“Don’t worry, you can help when I clean this shit up.” You both chuckle, before long Jax makes his way to the table. He sits down only for a moment to grab some French toast and devours it. He pours himself some milk and drinks it in one setting.

“Someone’s in a rush.” Gemma says, putting eggs onto her plate. Jax looks up, shaking his head. Something has happened with the club, you can tell. You can always tell.

“Fuckin’ short on guys again today. First it’s Bobby saying he’s got shit with the baby mom, then Chibs saying he can’t be there today for the gun meet. Something about he has to stay close incase the wife calls.” You drop your fork, picking it up quickly in an attempt to make the shock your feel less noticeable.

“Fiona?! What is that bitch coming back here for? Hasn’t she fucked his life up enough? Bitch should have decided on that when he was in the hospital.” Gemma asks. Hospital? How did you miss it? You question yourself. You visited him frequently after that bomb went off and you didn’t see his wife? You feel froze in place. How stupid? How stupid could you have been to believe anything that bastard said to you?

“Yep. Apparently it’s about their kid, or working out things. I don’t know I got mixed up on what he told me. I’m just pissed cause we’re two guys short now. Even Tig is more reliable right now and that’s saying a lot.” Jax gives Gemma a kiss on the head and gives you a hug before he heads to the door. Clay had already headed out early in the morning to finish up some things at the club house. You feel your hand around the knife that laid on the table, tapping it up and down. Gemma notices and decides it’s her business too of what’s going on.

“What’s with the knife?” She asks. You pause for a moment, thinking of how to get the frustration out without telling her too much.

“Well, just a hypothetical question, if you’d been seeing a man and found out he was playing you like a fucking fiddle the whole time you’d been fucking him, what would you do?” You ask, holding the knife in place now but not letting up on your grip. She lowers your hand down.

“Well baby, I’d be holding a knife just like that. What’s going on?” You sigh, tossing the knife down. Instantly you know, Gemma knows too.

“It’s nothing, just a th-“ Before you can finish your sentence she blurts out.

“Fuck me! This is about Chibs!” She blurts out. “What the hell, how long has it been going on?” You feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“Look, that’s not important. I’m just pissed, he told me he was done with his wife and now this?” You put your hands into your head, forcing back tears. “How could I be so fucking dumb?” You mutter out, Gemma runs her hand up and down your back.

“Listen, look at me.” She says, you look up to make eye contact with her. “Fuck him. I love Chibs. I do, but that’s a sleaze move and he knows it. The best thing I can tell you, act like you’re unbothered. You go to the club house tonight when everyone’s there, you ignore him.” You sigh, throwing your head back.

“Gem. I don’t even wan-“ She cuts you off before you can finish.

“I don’t give a damn, you’re not gonna lay at your house and sulk over this. You’re gonna get your shit together, put on a good outfit and show his ass you’re not bothered.” You look at her and know she means business. “And I won’t tell Clay if you’re worried about it. I’d like to kick Chibs ass myself right now but I still don’t want the bastard to get killed.” You nod in agreement.

“Now, eat, get your ass home and get the crying out of your system and then get ready. Make sure you wear something that shows the girls too.”

________

As horrible as you felt, you managed to drag yourself to the mirror and look at yourself. Not bad for someone who’d been sobbing for a large part of the day. Once you got to the club house, you saw Jax. He looked much more relaxed than this morning. You turn your head and meet eyes with Chibs, he doesn’t even look upset. You feel the anger flowing through your body. Feeling your fist clinch. You remember what Gemma said - unbothered. You look away and keep heading to the bar. Chibs eyes still watching you as you go. A moment passes as you decide on what to drink. Water is probably the best choice, but the booze would surely help how you feel.

“You look sad.” The young familiar face says as he sits next to you. You turn to him, examining him closer up than you had before. Juice was his name.

“I won’t lie, I am.” He smiles softly, pushing a beer toward you. “But this alcohol is gonna help me not remember that. I hope.” You say, taking a drink of the beer.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, you smile at him shaking your head.

“It’s better I don’t. What’s up with you? Most of you stay 100 feet away from me at all times.” Juice smiles, looking over to see Clay with Gemma. Since Clay had made the comment a few weeks ago to Juice about how the two of you should ‘get to know each other better’ he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Clay admired Juice, he’d always wanted a son. Jax was close enough to it, but he also knew Jax would never feel that way about him.

“Look, I think you’re a pretty girl. I don’t like seeing pretty girls sad.” You hadn’t interacted with Juice much, most time when you were at the club house he wasn’t or he was passed out inside a crow eater.

“Thanks Juice. You’re sweet. I should have known, you’re the least scary looking one here.” He giggles and rolls his eyes.

“What? The tattoos on the side of my head & the mohawk doesn’t scare you?”

You let out a chuckle, it felt good to laugh and enjoy yourself. You run your hand over the side of his head where his tattoos lay.

“No way. They’re real? I always thought it had to be temporaries you kept putting on.” You joke, he laughs softly. Before you can say anything else, you see Chibs standing behind Juice.

“Juicy boy, can I have a minute?” He asks motioning to you. Juice nods his head, silently upset that Chibs interfered with the interaction.

“I’ll see you later?” He asks, you smile and nod your head. Even blowing him a kiss as he walks away. Chibs motions for you to follow him outside. Once the two of you are outside, he’s pacing back and forth.

“What? I don’t give you attention for five minutes and you’re out with the young Buck aye? Makes a lot of sense. You just want a man to keep you occupied.” You laugh, shaking your head. You should walk away, but you don’t.

“You know what? Fuck you! Fuck. You. You’re the one who lied about your wife, you lied about what you wanted with me and your wife. You don’t get the right to drag me out of a party and try to make me feel bad.” You blurt out, surprising yourself that there aren’t tears running down your face. “Maybe next time you’re trying to play both sides with women, you shouldn’t tell the fucking girls step brother about your issues.” Your back is against the wall as he stands over top of you. His hands against the concrete wall.

“It’s complicated-“ He begins to speak, at this point you didn’t need to hear it, you didn’t even want to hear it. He instantly regrets the comments he made, but it was too late to take it back.

“No. No, Chibs it isn’t. You lied. If you wanted your wife back, all you had to do was tell me that. I’m a big girl and can handle the hurt.” You gently shove him away as he tried to get closer to you. “I’ll make it less complicated for you. I’m done with you, I’m done with this. Enjoy getting your family back. You deserve it. I hope your sorry ass goes back to Ireland and you live happily ever after.” You brush past him and head to your car. Despite the pain that ached in your chest you were proud of yourself. Realizing it was time to stop beating a dead horse. Chibs sighs deeply, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Before he lights it, he hears a familiar voice behind him.

“Something you need to tell me Chibby?” He feels his body go cold, turning around to meet the face of both Clay & Jax.

“Aye. Fuck me.” He says, throwing his hands up in the air.

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.