summary; after finally finishing your residency, you're ready to take a break, to figure stuff out. however, jack can tell something more serious is going on.
warnings; angsty. mentions of suicidal ideations, poor mental health, overworked resident, guilt-ridden jack, reader is a little mean as a self defense mechanism, not proofread
a/n; based on this request ! i hope i did ur vision some justice .. :D im not sure if this is any good lol
word count; 1.8k
Jack has been stuck on the same chart for the past fifteen minutes now. Mainly, because he can't stop staring at you. The tenseness in your shoulders, the clear forced smile you offer others.
He thinks back on your conversation earlier. How you told him you were considering a little vacation, to get your head on straight after the grueling residency you did at the PTMC. He couldn't blame you, residency is tough. He even encouraged you to take a vacation.
But watching you now? He's got this gnawing feeling in his gut, that maybe there was more to the story. Maybe this wasn't just about taking a break. He saw the way you talked today. As if you were treating every interaction like it was your last. That's what worries him.
He remembers how hard residency was for him. How hard many things were for him back then. He remembers everything. The thoughts that haunted him each night, the wonder if waking up was even worth it anymore. Those thoughts rarely swirled in his brain anymore, much thanks to therapy. But now, all those signs are showing up in you.
For starters, you're always at the hospital. Always covering shifts, staying late to finish charts, coming in early to get started on the day. He's not sure he's ever seen you away from the hospital for a decent period of time. He's not sure how you have time to eat, sleep and socialize; he fears that you aren't doing any of that, not properly.
Jack tries to help where he can. Slipping a protein bar into your scrub pocket, 'accidentally' packing two lunches, so he can give one to you, staying late just to take your caseload, so you could go home. But it doesn't seem to be enough. The life seems to be dimming from your eyes, pouring out with every word you utter.
The entire shift, Jack had tried his best to catch you alone, to maybe have a proper chat with you. But it was arguably one of the busier nights the ER has seen, so his interactions with you had been short and sweet.
Finally, after multiple, grueling hours, it had started slowing down. Jack's brows were pressed to a furrow, eyes darting around the open-plan of the ER, trying to spot you in the sea of other doctors and nurses.
"She's up on the roof, cowboy." Lena hummed, a knowing smile on her lips, as she reviewed a chart. Jack turned his head to look at her, lips pursing a little. He hadn't thought he was being so obvious.
With a curt nod, Jack took off toward the elevator. Resting his hands on each end of his stethoscope, he waited patiently as the elevator moved, taking him to the highest floor.
The air was sharp, cold. Beginnings of a sunrise were peeking over the horizon, casting a faint orange hue over the city. Jack's eyes immediately spotted you, stood by the railing in the exact spot you always stand at. He's quite sure the concrete has worn down from under you, considering how often you come up here.
"There you are." Jack murmured, coming to a stop next to you, tucking his hands into his pockets, head tilting back a little. His eyes focused on the sunrise, lungs taking in much needed fresh air, "Why're you hiding up here?"
You swallowed thickly, your thumb and pointer finger tapping against each other, something you found yourself doing often, when you got stressed, or thought too much. "Just...getting air."
Jack hummed, nodding his head slowly a few times, before tilting his head toward you, calculated eyes assessing you.
"What's this break thing really about?" He asks in a soft tone, turning his body to fully face you now, his hip resting against the railing. With his arms crossed over his chest, he continues, "Because I know it's not just to 'figure things out'. I'm all for you taking a break, but I need to know you're safe."
You scoff lightly, immediately going into self-defense mode. "I just need a break. And to figure out what I want to pursue now. If I want to stay here." A soft puff of air left your lips as you finished talking, glazed over eyes staring into the distance.
Jack hummed, his eyes narrowing the tiniest bit in suspicion. "Stay here? At PTMC? We'd be lucky if you did." The corner of his mouth tilted upwards the tiniest bit, "You're a fierce doctor, y'know? Any hospital would be lucky to have you, and I really do hope this one is still in your consideration."
Your heartstrings tugged at that. Because he thinks you mean just that. Staying at the PTMC. How are you meant to tell him that you're considering if staying anywhere is worth it anymore? How every morning feels heavier than the one before, and it takes everything in you to even get up and go to work?
"Guess we'll see." You shrugged, teeth gritting together in a desperate attempt to hold back tears.
Jack being Jack, he saw right through that. He saw the way your eyes glazed over, the way your breaths were coming out a little short. After years, maybe decades, of repressing his own emotions, he'd learned exactly how to spot someone doing it.
Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on the railing, his head turned to look at you. "Look, there's no shame in taking a break. It can be hard to figure out what you want to do, and that's okay. You have time. You can decide what your future plans are when you get back."
"What if I don't come back, what then?" You blurted out, lips falling into a frown. Jack saw your hands fist into the hem of your scrub top.
His back straightened after that. He was expecting it, yes, but he wasn't expecting you to outright say it to him.
"What does that mean?" He asked a little more sharply, moving to stand in front of you now. The furrow of his brow was a permanent fixture on his face now, and he crouched a little to be eye level with you. "Hey, talk to me."
Your teeth dug into your bottom lip, as you turned your face away from him, a tear trickling down your cheek. This is what you'd tried to hide for so long. You knew if you posed a mental health risk, you could endanger your job. No one wants an unstable doctor on their team. And here you were, blurting it all out to Jack.
"Nothing." You shook your head, arms wrapping tight around yourself, jaw set in a tight grit. "It means nothing, Jack. I didn't mean that." You anxiously tapped your foot against the concrete, wanting to get away from this conversation. Ever since you were a kid, all you'd known was defense. Whenever someone confronted you about anything, you'd build your walls so high, nothing gets through.
Jack gently rested his hands on your elbows, the furrow in his brows softening to more of a pleading look. "Don't do that." He whispered, gently pulling you closer, "Don't try and push me away. Don't try and shrug it off, it won't work with me. I know you, and I know when you're lying."
Your arms move, pulling out of his grip, feet backing you up a step or two. "I'm not doing anything. There's nothing for you to worry about, Dr. Abbot." You muttered, throat growing tight, "I'm just fine. And I certainly don't need you worrying about me. Not now, not ever."
He could see tears rolling down your cheeks, and his heart ached. While yes, he felt hurt by what you said, he knew you meant none of it, not really. You were hurt, and you were repressing your feelings. Maybe that's how you got people to back off in the past. But a little snark and ugliness isn't going to scare Jack away, no matter how hard you try.
"Just talk to me." He begged quietly, hands reaching out to you, "Please. I don't know what's going on with you but I can help. I know how it feels to be alone, I know how horrible the tiredness feels, all of it. I don't decide what you feel, and I can't even imagine it, but I can sympathize. Just talk to me."
You simply shook your head, taking another step back. "You don't have to act like my therapist, Jack. I'm fine. Whether I come back from this break or not."
Without giving him a chance to respond, you swiped the tears off your cheeks and took off for the elevator.
Jack stood there, dumbstruck. Fear swirled in his gut, an unknown feeling blooming. Something he hadn't felt for anyone in years. He knew you were struggling, hurting. He'd lived that himself. But, he didn't know how to help you. How to make sure you come back to him.
His mind reels over every interaction you two have had. Maybe, if he picked up on this earlier, it wouldn't have gotten so bad. You'd been so alone, so in pain for god knows how long, and he had just watched you drown. He can't let you go.
The empty weight on his ring finger sends shivers down his spine. Jack had already lost so much. His wife, his leg, years off of his life doing things that only ended up traumatizing him. And now, he could lose you too. And he'd put all the blame on himself.
By the time he made it down, Lena told him that you had already left. Jack tried to call, sent multiple texts just begging for a response, because that's not how he wanted to leave your last interaction. A newfound kind of panic coursed through his veins, setting him rigid.
Had he let you just slip from his grasp? What could he have done differently?
As soon as he was off shift, he was speeding to your place, praying to whoever was listening, that your car would still be there. His fear increases tenfold at the sigh of your empty driveway, the single porchlight flickering on and off. God, how many times he'd promised to come and fix it, after you asked.
Maybe that was your way of asking for company. And he hadn't realized. He really did think you just wanted someone to fix the light, but it wasn't about that at all.
Jack's head thumped against the headrest. As his mind ran over the past year, he could remember all the small hints you'd been leaving. Quietly asking him if he liked farmers markets, that there's always a great one going on the first Saturday of each month.
Or mentioning a singer you both like is coming to Pittsburgh soon. Showing him the website of a restaurant that just opened. All those little signs, of you silently trying to beg for someone to see you, to be with you. And Jack had missed it all.
And this time, his mistake might've made him lose you for good.
all my work is fictional, purely entertainment related and belongs to me.
Thinking of Daryl Dixon, whoโs a silent lover of you, or at least thatโs what it looks like to everyone else. Heโs never been upfront with his emotions, of-courseโthis wasnโt including his often occurring irritation and anger. Everyone knows how he is, snippy and mean. So easily pissed offโby basically everyone.
It took a real thick skinned person to be able to hold a conversation with Daryl Dixon, or it just took you. Boot wearing, crossbow wielding, only ever known a rural lifestyleโDaryl Dixon. The others would hear the little things heโd say to you and gush at the action. โya wanโ somethinโ to eat?โ or โyaโ looked cold.โ the brute says as he hands you a worn-out blanket.
Oh how they all fawn and tease at the sight of the hard-headed and cutthroat savage, infatuated with someone as if he had all the time in the world, as if there was a world even left. โhe likes you yโknow, heโs just bad at showing it.โ Carol nudges as you lean against the cool brick wall. โreally, you think so?โ
you think itโs kinda funny to play along. To act like thereโs nothing more than a fling between you and him. Or just two people slowly crushing on each other during dire times. When in reality, this is forever, however long that is in this cruel world.
They donโt know, how he holds you close and dear at night, clinging as if your being is what provides him air. They donโt know how sweetly he kisses youโon the forehead, on the jaw and so on. How he brings back little gifts from runsโ a couple rabbits, some chocolate he found in the drug store. Once Daryl brought back a hard cover book, dropping it in your lap as you gaze up in grateful confusion. โfigured yar wanโ it.โ
So yes, Daryl Dixon loves you deeply, just in his own unspoken little way.
pairing: jack abbot x f!readerย
summary: a blurb about reader and jackโs escapades in bed. With filming mini sex tapes being one of their favourite ways to spice things up in the bedroom.ย
tags/content: smut 18 + MDNI, sex tapes, dirty talk, pet names, idk its pretty self explanatory, softdom!abbot, established relationship, freak4freak.ย
a/n: if you think you have seen this before you may have! my old account imabbotbeliever was deleted by the tumblr gods so i am reposting my old work! back to regular a/n! explicit writing eeeek! luv the idea of freak4freak gotta meet each other on the same page, implied previous conversations on kink/boundaries etc. Healthy boundaries and communication is important and hot u guys!ย
There is really something about how Abbot loves to film you. He really is obsessed with you, the way you squirm under his gaze, under his touch, and of course under his filthy habit of filming little snippets of your sex life. You can see it in his eyes, heโd be all sweet and loving on you rubbing down your tits, whispering sweet nothings into your ears as he bites down on your ear and jaw. Youโd see the glint in his eyes when you moan a bit louder at the contact of his teeth with your jaw and he pulls back quickly, pushing into you deeply. Without missing a beat (or thrust), Jack reaches over you to get his phone from the nightstand, telling his pretty girl to keep going, just like that, with you taking over, rocking your hips up towards Jack with a level of determination you reserve only for the bedroom. He takes his phone in one hand, and drills into you just the way you like it, eyes rolling back and whimpers running out of your mouth. Oh itโs like he is so obsessed with catching you mid orgasm, clawing at him to pay attention to you, but no, he is too busy with his phone,ย
โSush, this is for us - for when we arenโt together babyโ.ย
And you stretch more, over exaggerate like the good girl you are, tits up to the camera, desperate for him to tell you how well you are doing, a firm hand landing on the side of your hip, squeezing the soft flesh, half moons from his nails pressing into your skin.ย
exclaiming as he aids you riding out that wave, thumb of his freehand swirling around your clit, laughing smugly at your desperation. As much as Jack loves to see you like this, his favourite part, to catch on camera, more than your desperate moans or your hips rocking harshly against his, it is his ropes hitting your chest with you all blissed out, pussy pulsing from the sudden loss of him inside. He murmurs over and over as he cums -ย
โoh god yeah, such a pretty girl for me - oh god f-uckโ.
He makes damn sure to zoom in on how his cum looks on your plush tits, capturing the obscenity of it all. As you both come down from it all, heavy breathing and deep kisses, Jack puts the phone down beside you turning it off. With one deep kiss on your jaw he tells you that he doesnโt think its possible to love you anymore,ย telling you in between laboured breaths that your his -ย
โSweet, sweet angel, I love you so much babyโย
If anyone found out what the two of you got up to in the bedroom, youโd be mortified, you think youโd have to leave the country from embarrassment, but in the moment Jack makes you feel so good, so safe and so loved that you couldnโt care less that he takes out his phone, in fact, you secretly love putting on the performance of a lifetime for him as he shines the camera light in your face. Afterwards, you are lying in bed, water in hand, chest cleaned with the precision only he could have, head on his chest curled in as if youโd die if you didnโt have as much surface area contact between your bodies as possible, asking Jack -ย
โYou would never show anyone these videos would you?โย
the post sex clarity and anxiety slowly seeping in. Jack sweeps the messy strands of your hair off your forehead, looking down on you with a level of softness that makes your legs weak. A look of concern washes over his eye, as he pushes those gorgeous, now damp, curls off of his forehead, trying to gauge how serious you are being right now. You know he wouldnโt ever actually do anything with the video or spread it around, but you need to be reassured anyways.ย
โNo sweetness, why would I ever do something so cruel to you?โย
And you hum sleepily against his side curled up, and god, you would do anything to stay like this forever. As you sink further into his side, Jack thinks of all the times heโs looked at the select few videos he has of you, tucked away in a private password protected folder, made especially for when your schedules donโt align and god the sound of your moans nearly give him a heart attack with how much it makes him want you. It leaves him counting down the hours until the next time he gets to hear you keen โJackieโ at him again. He sighs in sync with you, wondering what he did to deserve a woman like you in his life, his sweet, sweet girl.ย
summary: daryl tries to comfort you as you come to terms with the things that happened (2.2k)
content: flashbacks to sexual assault , self blame , angst w/ comfort , follows the events after s4 ep16 , typical TWD gore & injury
notes: second fic on this account. this ones a lil heavy, i tried not to make the flashbacks too descriptive. please all look after yourselves and if u do read this, i hope you enjoy :)
HUMANS WERE THE worst thing to walk the planet. They were before, and they were now, and they would continue to be forever and always. It didnโt matter that walkers could tear you apart limb by limb and strip your bones of flesh. None of that matters, because humans had the ability to take hopes and dreams and wishes and innocence, and leave your body alive and trembling on the side of the road.
You hadnโt slept, not a wink. Your breathing was laboured, and your blinks even more so, but you still hadnโt reclined and let yourself drift off. You couldnโt.
Carl had, and you were grateful for that. Maybe slightly jealous too.
The kid needed rest, you all did really, but him especially.
Michonneโs fingers were dragging through his hair, his head perched on her thighs as his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.
The bags beneath your eyes were heavy, weighing down on your face just as much as this unfamiliar feeling was on your shoulders.
โHey.โ Michonne muttered, reaching across with a gentle hand and grazing your shoulder.
The touch made you jump, flinch even, and she retracted.
โSorry.โ
โItโs okay.โ You replied, mustering up the softest smile you could offer her.
โYou need to sleep.โ
You shook your head.
โReaderโโ
โNo.โ Your voice broke, bottom lip trembling so violently that the edges of it were blurring, โNo, I canโt.โ
โYou need to tryโโ
โI donโt wanna close my eyes.โ You whimpered, picking at the skin around your fingernails until it was splitting and blood was prickling, pooling and dripping.
With a shaky sigh, you reached for the door handle, cracking it open.
โReaderโโ
โIโm fine.โ You sniffled, โIโm fine.โ
Whether you were trying to convince her or yourself, you were unsure, but you stepped out of the truck, ignoring the fallen bodies of disgusting men discarded on the road side. You rounded the vehicle, your feet stepping from cement to leaf litter.
โHey.โ Darylโs gruff voice called out.
It startled you at first, but the low rumble in his voice wasnโt intimidating to you anymore. It was soft, and it filled you with the warmth of safety and comfort.
You turned around slowly.
On the floor, he and Rick were sitting side-by-side, their backs pressed up against the truck doors. Rick was an image of ruthlessness. Blood stained his maw, clinging to the wiry curls of his beard.
You looked at him, and the world went dark again.
It was night time, and your cheek was pressed into the harsh ground, forced to watch pitiless people pummel the life out of the man youโd learned to care so deeply about. The sight was awful, but looking over to see a man's flesh between Rickโs teeth made you want to vomit.
โYou okay?โ
You blinked, and you were back.
The sun was out again, and the two men were waiting expectantly for a response.
You nodded.
โWhere you goinโ?โ Daryl asked.
โFor a walk.โ You croaked.
โWant me to comeโโ
โNo.โ You shook your head, swallowing thickly, โNo, thank you.โ
He nodded in understanding, though it was reluctant.
โWhen you come back, weโll get going again. Thereโll be a town nearby, we can get you a new shirt.โ Rick spoke, making his voice as gentle as he possibly could, โNew everything, if you really want.โ
At his words, you glanced down, taking in the sight of your shirt.
Youโd known it had been torn, youโd heard it happen under the grip of the strangers hands. Now, it was baggy and loose, barely covering what it used to. It sagged in the middle, revealing far too much skin.
โThank you.โ You nodded, before turning on your heels again and trekking further through the woods.
The leaves crunched beneath your feet. Shades of browns, oranges, yellows, reds, all mixed together on the ground, dry and crispy. The crunching blended into something harrowing, your ears ringing and hearing turning to fuzz as your mind replayed the sound of bones snapping under pressure, and the visual of Daryl fighting back.
But it didnโt matter.
It didnโt matter how many bones he broke, or how much he made the men bleed, the hands didnโt stop.
They werenโt frightened by the sounds of their friends being beaten, they were too focused on you.
Focused on stopping your writhing by pinning you down, forcing your limbs into uncomfortable positions.
Focused on silencing your cries and shrieks by flattening a hand over your mouth.
You knew that by making so much noise, you were attracting walkers, but the only thing you thought in response to that in that moment, was โGoodโ. You wouldโve rather been shredded into the undeadโs next meal than endure what they did to you. Still, you couldnโt win, both choices meant dirty hands on your unwilling body.
They hadnโt stopped until Daryl had forced them to. Until heโd shoved an arrow deep into their skull and kicked their heavy bodies to the side. But even then, it didnโt feel like they were really gone.
You still felt it all.
You felt the helplessness, the fear, and the defeat as your body gave out and stopped fighting back.
It wasnโt until Darylโs hands found your shoulders that you kicked back into gear, legs jerking out and arms flailing as you screamed, scratching your palms along the tarmac as you travelled backwards until your back hit the truck.
You werenโt alright then, and you certainly werenโt alright now.
Your body sagged, lowering yourself to the forest floor.
Your knees dug into the Earth, the patterns of leaves staining themselves into your skin, but you didnโt care. Your chest wracked with heavy, silent sobs, your face a screwed up look of distress and grief.
Grief for whatever the hell youโd lost last night.
A piece of yourself.
A piece of yourself that you hadnโt been willing to have ripped away from you like that.
A twig snapped behind you, and your head whipped around, immediately alert.
Thankfully, all you saw was Daryl.
He stood out amongst the muted, warm colours of the forest, his fully black outfit being quite the contrast.
Swiftly, you wiped at your cheeks, trying to scrub away the tear tracks that were left in your face, disturbing the dirt smudged across your cheeks.
โWhat you doinโ?โ Daryl asked, stepping closer.
Your shoulders raised and then dropped with a dramatic huff, โCrying, I guess.โ
He grunted in response, dropping himself down beside you.
โMichonne told me to come see ya.โ
โSheโs worried I didnโt sleep.โ
โDid you?โ
โNo.โ You scoffed. โI canโtโโ You sucked a deep breath in, feeling the tears coming all over again, โI canโt close my eyes without reliving last night. Seeing those people hurting you in front of meโโ
โWhat?โ He physically recoiled in shock.
โWhat, Daryl?โ You snapped, โWhat donโt you understand?โ
โOut of everything that happened last night, youโre seeing me gettinโ my ass beat?โ
โEverything else is more of a feeling.โ You sniffled, interlocking your fingers in your lap and flexing your hands inwards, โI could see what was happening to you, but I could feel what was happening to me. Itโs a bit different.โ
He paused, pursing his lips as if trying to think of what was an appropriate response, โโฆ Dโyou wanna talk โbout it? The feeling?โ
Ever so slowly, your head rotated to the side, finally taking in the sight of him. Really taking in the sight of him.
His right eye was encircled with a bright purple bruise that looked raw to the touch, and his lip was split with a deep cut. There was blood staining his cracked knuckles. Everything about him looked like it hurt, though you would bet money on the possibility of you looking the same.
You could feel the tingling sting of a scrape on your cheek, and there were undoubtedly bruises scattered across your neck and collarbones.
โI โฆ I donโt really know what to say or โฆโ Tears dribbled down your cheeks all over again, โIt just seemed like it was never going to stop. No matter what I did, no matter how hard I kicked or how loud I screamed โฆ they just kept going and I donโt know why I couldnโt stop themโโ
He was quick to interrupt you, โThat ainโt your fault.โ
โI just feel weak. Violated. I donโt know why, itโs not like they did anything. Not really.โ You scoffed with dry laughter.
It wasnโt funny, nothing about this situation at all was funny, but you were trying your damndest not to break down into a fresh wave of sobs and collapse into his arms.
โDonโt.โ His tone was stern. Strong. โDonโt do that.โ
โDo what?โ You spat.
โBelittle what they did tโyou.โ
Your body went rigid at his words, feet sliding up the ground, pulling your knees to your chest like you were five years old and had just been scolded by your mom.
You leant forwards, resting your cheek on your arms so you were turned away from him and your skin was soaking up your tears as they fell.
โIโm sorry.โ He grumbled.
โWhat are you sorry for?โ You whispered, โYou didnโt pin me down.โ
โI was with โem.โ He clarified, โI didnโt try hard enough to stop โem.โ
You picked your head up again, turning to look at him.
He had this guilty expression on his face, like a child who had been caught doing something he wasnโt supposed to. He couldnโt bring himself to look at you, but you couldโve sworn through the gaps in his hair, you got a glimpse of water shining in his eyes.
โIt wasnโt your fault, Daryl.โ
โIt werenโt yours, either.โ He replied, giving a wet sniffle before meeting your eyes, โYโgotta know that.โ
โI just โฆ I feel them all the time.โ Your voice broke again, giving way to heavy sobs that jolted your whole body, โTheir hands, and they just wouldnโt stop. Thatโs all I wanted, I wanted them to stop, I wanted them to let me go. I didnโt want them to die, I just wanted them to stop touching me, and they wouldnโtโโ
โI know, I know.โ His voice softened, arms encompassing you and holding you tight the moment your body collapsed forwards into his, seeking solace.
Heโd stopped your panicked rambling with his arm. Your face was buried into the bend of his elbow, hands grasping desperately at his forearm.
Daryl couldnโt see your face, but he didnโt need to to know that you were the pinnacle of traumatised and vulnerable.
โI got you, sweetheart.โ He whispered into your hair, not wanting to move his hands in fear of startling you further, โI got you now. Youโre safe.โ
The volume of your wails were loud, but he couldnโt find it within himself to shush you, so he only hoped and prayed that any walkers were too far out to be able to hear you. You needed this. You needed to just break down without the fear of judgement or punishment, and Daryl was more than willing to be there for you while you did that.
If anyone dared interrupt, he might just shoot an arrow right between their eyes.
โAinโt no one gonโ hurt you again, ya hear me?โ He promised, hoping you could hear him over the sound of your own sobs.
He didnโt know how long it had taken you to calm down (timing wasnโt exactly his biggest priority) but once your cries had stopped, once glance at your face told him all he needed to know.
You were asleep.
Youโd exhausted yourself to the point of slumber.
But it was deserved.
Youโd spent the whole night reliving a nightmare, and you were finally getting the rest you so blatantly deserved.
Something in Darylโs chest swelled at the thought of his arms being the comfort you needed to finally drift off. He didnโt dwell on that now. It was obvious you both had feelings for each other, youโd admitted it back at the prison, albeit his confession was a grumbled sentence something along the lines of โI like ya, and I donโt want nothinโ bad happening tโyouโ.
Romance wasnโt important right now. What was, was your well-being.
Cautiously, he shifted you further into his arms, one wrapped around your back, the other under your knees as he hauled you up.
When he emerged from the treeline with you dramatically draped across his arms, Rick had immediately thought the worst, but he took a moment to observe the calm expression on Darylโs face and gave a gentle nod.
โSheโs sleepinโ.โ
โGood.โ Rick said, โYou okay to carry herโโ
โโDo anything fโher.โ
โOkay.โ He nodded, โOkay, if you need a break, let us know, and we can stop.โ
โIโve got her.โ
โDid she say anything?โ Michonne asked, watching you with a concerned frown.
โA lot of the same stuff over and over. Cried mostly. Sheโs okay. Like I said, I got her.โ
โYes you do, brother.โ Rick clapped him on the shoulder supportively.
And then they were on their way.
Following along the road until they met with the train tracks again.
The entire time, Daryl made sure his movements were all soft, not wanting to jostle you too much and end up waking you. Thankfully, you seemed pretty deep into your sleep that he could drop you and the most you would do is stir.
dying for jealous brendon park head canons or blurb please please please ๐ง๐ปโโ๏ธ
merging with a few other asks
โget absolutely freaked out for those possessive/jealous park headcanons babe, i encourage it ๐ค๐ค๐ค โ
โDying to know your thoughts on possessive!!Brendon Park :))) โ
NSFW!
- SO EASILY JEALOUS
- you go with him to a work charity event and you meet one of his residents for the first time
- obviously ur sweet bc ur the first lady of orthopedic surgery
- pulling you away immediately!!!!!
- bc what if you leave him for someone with the same potential
- but theyโre younger and nicer
- but you know where home is ๐
- he loves when you mark him!!!
- scratches on his back with nails HE paid for
- bite marks on his arms
- sometimes you gnaw on them like a teething puppy (also hump his legโฆ)
- or when heโs really stretching you and youโre trying to not be noisy youโll bite him
- one time you pulled away to see you had drawn blood and you started crying
- heโs trying to comfort you while hiding his growing cock because of the blood and your tears
- he has a thing for blood idc
- heโs like a vampire (au?) but he thinks blood is a bonding thing
- so he loves when you bite him so hard you can taste his blood
- especially if itโs on his neckโฆ youโll pull away because youโre crying on his cock and heโll feel the sting of your tears falling into the open wound
- yeah his cock is THROBBING in u idc
- he also loves period sex
- saw a fic saying he got the nickname park the shark in med school because he LOVED fucking girls on their periods andโฆ. yeahโฆ..
- he loves knowing it can alleviate pain for you
- but selfishly he loves tasting your blood and he LOVES seeing bloody rings form on the base of his cock!!!!!
- he loves watching it gush onto his white sheets
- โโm a surgeon, blood doesnโt scare meโ heโd murmur SO drunk on your pussy
- the blood thing again is bonding and he feels like you own each other
- he loves your crying too!!!!
- hearing you cry while heโs eating you out or deep inside of you
- he loves licking the tears off your face
- also very into spit, spitting in your mouth ONLY (not on you)
- again just a really nasty way to declare ownership of each other
- he is into feet (saw someone else post abt this and iโm glad itโs not just me who sees this)
- he loves seeing your toes painted white
- he LOVES sucking on your toes while making his way between your thighs
- heโll lick from heel to toe, whole performance
- he is so into the idea of you having an initial tattoo on your pelvic bone
- just a little B or B.P
- #ownership
- he also loves when youโre a brat!!
- i talked abt this with @soobshi in my comments at some point!
- so building off her point, i think he loves you putting up a fight because it shows that you can make decisions different than his but you CHOOSE to come back
- yeah you chose him but you had to be a brat so obviously he has to punish you
- very into spanking!!! also overstimulation
- again w the crying
- he loves edging you until you squirt and โruinโ his sheets
- and then you get all whiney and cry out of embarrassment on his lap and use his arm to suck and bite on #oralfixation
Boyfriend!Jack who finds out that when heโs at work and you canโt easily reach him, you sometimes listen to some app to get yourself off. Not to create content, but it has filthy, filthy stories for people to listen to. He canโt remember too well what youโd mumbled the name to be: Quip? Quick? Something like that
Boyfriend!Jack who now regularly makes sure youโre feeling satisfied and not left hanging before he goes to work. He doesnโt have an issue with you listening to themโ he just wants to make sure you donโt feel like you have to use them because youโre lacking something
Boyfriend!Jack who, after hearing you mention one of the stories while laying down together (something about a chef and his sous chef. He was half asleep from work and trying to keep up), wanted to give you a surprise
Boyfriend!Jack who sent you two audio files (that took him a good while to figure out how to make and convert to send lol) while in the middle of his shift. He knew it was three in the morning and that you were fast asleep. He just wanted you to wake up to something a bit better since it was looking like heโd be at work a bit longer than heโd like
Boyfriend!Jack who downloaded the app youโd occasionally talked about, paid for a months subscription, and somehow found the time to re-record your go to story. He even changed the characters name fromโ what was it?โ Iris to your name so it felt even more personal (maybe he also got himself off to make the latter half of episode two more authentic >_<)
Boyfriend!Jack who is not at all surprised that, after he sleeps a few hours post-shift, youโre dragging him right back to bed for a proper thank you >_<
summary; pope being a helpful king, a bit of baz hate and a cute little s2 ref at the end :D
warnings; just some curse words
a/n; all photos aside from the messages r from pinterest!
part one
wc: 2.6k
pairing: jack abbot x wife!reader
summary: your daughter suffers a harsh hit during her hockey game and jack's doctor instincts kick in immediately.
c. warning: nothing, really, just pure fluff.
a/n: i love writing about this little family so much. also, sorry i was gone for so long, but the past two weeks i've been working and traveling nonstop so i didn't really have time to sit and write. also, please appreciate how i've poured all the hockey knowledge i've gathered from reading smutty hockey romances over the years into this story. i've something doesn't make sense, just know that we don't do that where i'm from and until i started writing this i wasn't entirely sure what the hell aa zamboni was. so, yeah. hope you enjoy!!
masterlist | requests
jack is dressed in his weekend uniform: a heavy, dark-knit sweater, worn jeans, and a faded baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. his large travel mug of black coffee is clamped between his hands, steam rising to meet the cold air. to anyone else in the crowded stands, he looks like just another hockey dad. but you know him better than anyone. you can see the calculated way his eyes track the zamboni smoothing out the ice, his internal clock ticking down the minutes until your twelve-year-old daughter takes the rink.
"you're doing that thing again," you murmur, leaning your shoulder into his broad chest. โrelax, jack. sheโll be fine.โ
jack blinks, a soft, self-deprecating smile breaking through his expression as he glances down at you. he drops one hand from his coffee mug, laying his long, warm fingers on your thigh. jack lets out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound vibrating against your ribs. he leans down, pressing a warm kiss against the side of your temple.
"can you blame me?" he whispers, his voice laced with that deep, grounding tenderness he reserves only for you. "old habits die hard. especially when my baby girl is about to hit the ice for the first time in months."
before you can answer, a small explosion of energy shifts between you. your five-year-old son, who had been distracted trying to drive a toy ambulance up the sleeve of jackโs jacket, scrambles onto his lap. he presses his cold nose against his fatherโs jaw, pointing a mittened hand toward the ice.
"daddy, look! there she is!โ
jackโs entire countenance softens. itโs a complete transformation that still makes your heart skip a beat even after all these years of marriage. he shifts his arm to secure your son against his chest, his gaze locking onto the ice where the team is skating out for warm-ups.
there she is. number 14. her dark ponytail is braided tightly tonight, tucked securely beneath her helmet, but her fierce, determined blue eyesโso incredibly like her father'sโare visible through the cage of her visor. she spots the three of you in the third row, raises her stick in a quick, proud salute, and then blasts down the ice, spraying a fan of white snow against the boards.
jackโs grip on your thigh tightens, his chest swelling with a quiet, fierce pride. "look at her go," he mutters, almost to himself.
"sheโs grown so fast," you laugh, adjusting your son, whoโs now moved to your lap, wiggling his legs as he chants his big sisters name.ย
the game starts with a frantic, intensity. mayaโs team is matched against a notoriously aggressive team from the next county over. the sound of skates slicing into the ice, the heavy thwack of composite sticks striking the puck, and the booming echoes of parents shouting formatting strategies fill the cavernous building.
jack is entirely captivated. his medical mind completely recedes, replaced by the instinctual drive of a father watching his child fight for every inch of ice. every time maya intercepts a pass or cleanly blocks an opposing forward from crossing the blue line, jack is on his feet, clapping his heavy hands together, his voice joining the chorus of the crowd.
"keep your head up, maya! look for the open ice!" he shouts, his authoritative baritone cutting right through the ambient noise of the rink.
beside him, your son is jumping up and down on your lap, waving his mittens wildly. "go, maya, go!"
by the third period, the score is tied 2-2. the tension in the arena is thick enough to cut with a blade. the opposing team is growing frustrated, their checks are becoming heavier, and their play is pushing the boundaries of the referee's whistle. you find yourself gripping the edge of the wooden bleacher, a knot of protective anxiety tight in your stomach as your eyes follow mayaโs figure up and down the ice. you glance at jack; his jaw is set, his eyes narrowed as he tracks a particularly aggressive opposing forward who has been shadowing maya all night.
then, before you can blink or yell mayaโs name in an attempt to warn her, yours and jackโs world tilts in a fraction of a second.
maya gathers the puck behind her own net, looking up to spark a breakout pass. she doesn't see the opposing winger barreling down the ice from her blind side, moving with terrifying momentum.
crash.
the impact is deafening. the sound of heavy plastic padding slamming against the plexiglas echo through the entire rink. maya is thrown completely off her feet, her body twisting awkwardly as she is pinned against the boards before collapsing hard onto the unforgiving ice. the puck skitters away, forgotten.
the refereeโs whistle blows frantically. the entire arena goes deathly silent.
in an instant, the world slows to a crawl. you feel the air leave your lungs, your hand flying to your mouth as you stand up, holding your son tigh to your chest. beside you, jack is already on his feet. the transition is instantaneous; the relaxed hockey dad vanishes and the elite dr abbot takes his place, his internal monologue firing at a million miles an hour.
sheโs moving her arms, so no loss of consciousness. thank goodness. she didnโt hit the back of her head directly, but the deceleration was severe. checking for spinal alignment. is she guarding her wrist?
jackโs hand drops onto your shoulder, his grip incredibly firm, anchoring you even as his own face goes pale. "stay with the boy," he commands softly, his voice cutting through your mounting panic with absolute clarity.ย
he is already moving toward the stairs, his boots thudding heavily against the concrete steps as he prepares to leap over the barrier if the coaching staff signals for medical assistance. you can see the raw, agonizing conflict in his postureโthe desperate urge of a father wanting to sprint across the ice to gather his hurt child, warred against the clinical restraint of a doctor waiting for the official signal.
on the ice, maya is on her hands and knees. time seems to stretch into eternity. she shakes her head once, twice, a spray of ice falling from her helmet. the trainer is jogging toward her, but before he can even cross the blue line, maya places her stick flat on the ice.
with a grimace that you can recognize even from the stands, she pushes herself up. she stands on her skates, stumbles for a brief half-second, and then firmly plants her blades into the ice. she taps her stick against her pads, looks directly over at her bench, and gives her coach a sharp, defiant nod that clearly says iโm staying out here.
the home crowd erupts into a deafening roar of applause and relief.
jack stops at the bottom of the bleacher stairs. he lets out a massive, shuddering breath that clears his lungs of the icy panic, his shoulders dropping three inches. he watches her skate a quick, testing circle, making sure her stride is even and her head is clear as she talks to the referee.
he walks back up the stairs, his eyes meeting yours. the sheer relief in his expression is profound. he slides back into the row, pulling you tightly against his side, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his chest.
"she's fine," jack whispers, his voice a little rough around the edges as he presses his forehead against yours for a brief, grounding moment. "judging by the look on her face, sheโs just incredibly pissed off."
you let out a shaky laugh, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "she gets that damn stubbornness from you, you know."
"good," jack murmurs, his hand sliding down to hold yours, his thumb rubbing comforting circles over your skin. "she's going to need it."
maya doesn't just stay in the game; she plays like a girl possessed. with less than two minutes remaining on the clock, she intercepts a sloppy pass at the blue line, drives into the offensive zone, and unleashes a ferocious, sweeping wrist shot.
the puck flies past the opposing goaltender's glove, hitting the back of the twine with a satisfying, metallic ping.
the buzzer sounds. the game is over. mayaโs team wins 3-2.
the celebration in the stands is chaotic and joyful. your son is jumping so high jack has to catch him by the waistband of his pants to keep him from tumbling over the row in front of you. down on the ice, maya is swallowed up in a joyous mob of teammates, her stick raised high in the air.
by the time you all gather in the chilly hallway outside the locker rooms, the adrenaline has finally begun to fade, leaving behind a warm, exhausted contentment. when the heavy wooden door finally swings open, maya walks out, her massive hockey bag slung over one shoulder, her hair damp from the shower and sticking to her forehead. she looks tired, but her smile is radiant.
before she can say a word, her little brother launches himself at her knees. "maya! you smashed it! you made the big goal!"
maya laughs, dropping her bag with a heavy thud to scoop him up into a clumsy, padded hug. "thanks, buddy."
then, she looks up at her parents. jack steps forward and reaches out, pulling both maya and your son into his massive arms, burying his face in her damp hair just like he did in the emergency room weeks ago.
"i am so proud of you, sweetheart," jack says, his voice thick with genuine emotion. "the goal was incredible, but the way you got back up after that hit? thatโs what matters. you were incredible."
maya beams, leaning into her dadโs embrace. "i saw you standing at the bottom of the stairs, dad. i knew if i didn't get up in five seconds, you were going to skate out there in your boots and embarrass me in front of the whole league."
jack laughs, a bright, unburdened sound that makes several passing parents look over in surprise. "you're damn right i was."
twenty minutes later the four of you are slid into a deep, plush vinyl booth at your favorite diner; a cozy, retro twenty-four-hour spot just down the road from the arena. the restaurant is bathed in the warm, golden glow of neon signs, the air rich with the aroma of sizzling burgers, hot gravy, and fresh coffee.
maya is sitting on one side of the booth, her medal proudly hanging off her neck, while your son is nestled right next to her, happily coloring on a children's menu with a box of crayons. you and jack sit opposite them, your legs intertwined beneath the table, basking in the uncomplicated joy of the moment.
a massive, towering platter of chili-cheese fries sits in the exact center of the table, a communal prize for a hard-fought victory.
"alright, champion," jack says, leaning forward with a rare, relaxed playful glint in his eyes as he points a fry at his daughter. "walk me through that final shot. from my angle, it looked like you caught the goalie leaning the wrong way entirely."
mayaโs eyes light up, and for the next fifteen minutes, she launches into an incredibly detailed, animated play-by-play description of the third period. she uses a salt shaker and a pepper grinder to demonstrate player positioning on the laminate tabletop, her hands gesturing wildly.
you watch jack as she speaks. he isn't checking his phone for hospital updates; his mind isn't drifting back to the trauma bays or the endless paperwork waiting on his desk. he is entirely, beautifully present. he listens to his daughter with a profound, unhurried respect, nodding along to her strategies, offering gentle critiques, and laughing loudly when she describes her defensive partner's mid-game trash-talk.
"and then," maya finishes, taking a massive, triumphant bite of a slider, "i just closed my eyes and shot it as hard as i could."
"an excellent strategy," you joke, reaching across the table to wipe a stray smudge of ketchup from her chin.
"hey, i used that same strategy for my residency exams. and it worked wonderfully," jack points out smoothly, earning a collective laugh from the entire table.
as the evening progresses, the high-energy excitement of the victory slowly transitions into a soft, heavy drowsiness. your sonโs babbling slows down until his coloring crayon slips from his fingers. he blinks sleepily, his small head rolling over until it rests heavily against mayaโs shoulder. maya, shifts her arm around him, pulling him close against her side while she sips the last of her strawberry milkshake.
the diner quietens down around you, the gentle clink of silverware and the soft hum of the jukebox providing a perfect background track to your family's peace.
jack shifts closer to you in the booth, his long arm sliding over the back of the seat to wrap securely around your shoulders. he pulls you against his side, his fingers gently playing with the ends of your hair. you look up at him, noting the way the warm neon light catches the sharp lines of his jaw, softening the edges of a man who spends his life fighting death.
"you're very quiet tonight," you whisper, resting your hand flat against his chest, feeling the steady, calm thrum of his heartbeat.
jack looks down at you, his blue eyes dark with a depth of affection that catches your breath. he captures your hand, bringing it to his lips to press a soft, lingering kiss against your knuckles.
"iโm just thinking about how incredibly lucky i am," jack says softly, his voice dropping to a low, intimate register meant only for your ears. he looks across the table at his two children, one fast asleep, the other happily zoning out after a massive victory, and then back to you.
"for a long time, i thought keeping my life organized in separate compartments was the only way to protect you all from the messiness of my work world. but tonight... seeing you all here, seeing how strong our little girl is, how safe i feel with you... i realize this, our little family, isn't just my escape from the chaos. you three are the only reason i survive every shift."
your eyes grow a little glossy at his words. you lean up, pressing a sweet, deep kiss against his lips, tasting the faint trace of black coffee and the profound warmth of his devotion. jack lets out a soft, contented sound against your mouth, breaking the kiss to rest his cheek against the top of your head.
โwe aren't going anywhere, jack."
after the bill arrives jack gently gathers your sleeping son into his arms, guiding you and your tired, victorious daughter out into the car under the crisp, starry night. one hand pressed against the small of your back as he softly speaks to maya. you stand there, watching him as he puts the kids inside the car, making sure theyโre seatbelts are fastened and reminding both of them they have to brush their teeth when they get home.
when he finally steps back, jack looks at you over his shoulder, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips.
โwhat are you thinking?โ
โoh, nothing. i was admiring the view,โ you wave a hand around, making a point of looking at his ass.
jack barks out a loud laugh, and the sound makes something inside you ignite. smiling softly, you walk the few steps that separate you from him dropping a kiss on his shoulder over his jacket.
โand i was thinking that iโm just so incredibly lucky to have you in my life, jack,โ you murmur, quoting him from earlier. with one last kiss on his jaw, you finally whisper. โletโs go home.โ
summary: When the Emergency Department staff creates a secret betting pool to guess who their pampered "ER Barbie" resident is dating, they look at every available doctor on the floorโcompletely oblivious to the truth. But when an accidental sedation sends her to her own trauma bay, her secret emergency contact rushes down from the third floor, proving that "Park the Shark" always sweeps the board. 7.6k
The fluorescent hum of the Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Centerโs Emergency Department had a specific cadence at three in the morning. It was the hour when the adrenaline of midnight casualties began to curdle into the slow, bone-deep ache of a twenty-four-hour cycle.
You stood at the central nursing station, the sharp, clean scent of your expensive Jo Malone pear-and-freesia perfume acting as a thin, defiant barrier against the ambient odors of iodine, old coffee, and dried blood.
"I donโt understand how you still smell like flowers and looking like you just stepped out of a Sephora commercial.โ Trinity Santos muttered, her fingers flying across the electronic medical record terminal with an aggressive, rhythmic snapping sound. She didnโt look up at you; her sharp, fiercely ambitious eyes were entirely consumed by her discharge summaries. "Itโs statistically improbable. Youโve been running codes since yesterday afternoon."
You offered a small, tired smile, adjusting the stethoscope around your neck. "Good soap, Trinity. And a lot of hydration."
"It's not just the soap," Dennis Whitaker mumbled from three chairs down. The R1 was currently buried under a stack of intake forms, looking thoroughly overwhelmed and resembling a puppy that had been repeatedly dropped in the mud. His hair was standing on end from where his frantic fingers had plowed through it all night. "You donโt have the gray skin, either. The rest of us look like weโve been exhumed from a shallow grave. You look like youโre about to film a commercial for skincare."
"Thatโs because sheโs our ER Barbie," Dana Evans said, her voice dropping into that smooth, authoritative alto that could instantly quiet a chaotic resuscitation bay. The charge nurse walked past the desk, dropping a fresh stack of lab slips into Dennisโs trembling inbox.
She gave you a long, discerning look, her eyes drifting down to your hands. "Perfect manicure, too. Every single shift. Iโm convinced you have a portal to a spa hidden in the supply closet."
You tucked your hands into the pockets of your black scrubs, your thumbs brushing against the smooth fabric. You felt a familiar, secret flush rise along your neckโnot from the teasing, but from the private knowledge of why those nails were always painted a delicate, perfect nude, and who had paid for the standing appointment at the salon downtown.
"She has to have a sugar daddy," a low voice rumbled from the corridor. Dr. Nick Barker from Radiology lounged against the doorframe, a digital tablet balanced on his forearm. He gave you the slow, practiced smile he usually reserved for trying to bump his scans to the top of the priority list. "Nobody on an R2 salary can afford those organic green juices you drink every morning, or that specific line of French moisturizers I see in your locker. Come on. Admit it. Whoโs the lucky bastard?"
"I don't have a sugar daddy, Nick," you said, your voice soft but even. You were used to the banter. Being soft-spoken in a place as loud as Pittsburgh Trauma often made people assume you were fragile, but youโd learned long ago how to let their assumptions slide off you like water. "I just manage my budget well."
"Right. And Iโm the Chief of Medicine," Nick chuckled, lingering a little too long near your shoulder as he leaned in to show you a chest X-ray. "By the way, if youโre free after the shift change tomorrow, I found this new place in Shadyside. Great coffee blends and pastries. Very your vibe."
"Sheโs busy, Barker," Frank Langdon interrupted, stepping between you and the radiologist with the easy, golden-boy confidence that had earned him the title of "ER Ken" among the lower-level staff. As your senior resident and primary mentor in the ED, Frank possessed an easygoing charm that made him immensely popular, but he was also fiercely protective of you.
He dropped an arm over your shoulders, a completely platonic gesture of exhaustion that nevertheless made Nickโs eyes narrow. "Sheโs helping me review the chest tube placements from last night. Go back to your dark room."
Nick scoffed but moved off, throwing a backward glance that lingered on your face.
Once he was out of earshot, Frank dropped his arm and groaned, rubbing his face. "Seriously, though. If you don't pick one of these guys soon, the security desk is going to turn into an actual casino."
You paused, your pen hovering over a trauma flow sheet. "What do you mean?"
Frank blinked down at you, his face cracking into a look of disbelief. "You don't know? Still? You've been a resident here for two years and you're still this oblivious?"
"Know what?" you asked. Still having no clue on what heโs saying.
From the corner of the desk, Melissa King looked up from her notes. The R3 was brilliant, her neurodivergent focus often making her seem detached until she dropped an incredibly specific observation with absolute certainty. "They are referring to the betting pool," she said, her voice flat and precise. "It has been active for approximately four months. It is currently located on the old whiteboard in Ahmadโs office. The current total pool is one thousand and forty dollars."
You stared at her, your mouth opening slightly. "A betting pool? About what?"
"Your love life," Trinity said, finally looking up with a sharp, wicked grin. "The entire auxiliary staff is involved. The nurses, the techs, half the residents from three different departments. Even some of the paramedics from the city rigs have money down. Everyone wants to know who ER Barbie is going to settle on."
"That's... that's a human resources violation," you stammered, the heat in your cheeks now very real and very bright.
"Itโs a morale booster," Dana corrected from around the corner, not sounding even remotely apologetic. "And honestly, the odds are fascinating. Ahmad keeps the sticky notes organized by department."
"Who is on it?" you asked, a sudden, cold spike of panic hitting your stomach. Your thoughts immediately flashed to a specific third-floor office with a heavy oak door and a nameplate that read Chief of Orthopedic Trauma. If his name was on that board, the entire hospital would be scorched earth by sunrise.
"Well," Frank said, counting on his fingers with a smirk. "Robby has a hundred and twenty bucks under him. Dr. Abbot has a few nurses convinced his 'SWAT Daddy' energy is going to win you over. Barker aka Prince Eric from Rads has forty dollars down that youโll cave to his coffee invitations by June."
"And you?" you asked Frank, your voice rising slightly.
"Oh, weโre the top tier," Frank laughed, entirely unbothered. "The night shift techs have 470 bucks that you and I are currently having casual sex in the call rooms to relieve stress. They think weโre a matching set. ER Ken and ER Barbie. Itโs poetic."
"Frank!" you shrieked. A few nurses and patients looked on your side.
"Don't look at me, I didn't bet it!" he said, raising his hands in surrender. "And then thereโs the wildcard pool. Victoria Javadiโthe MS4 who follows Yolanda Garcia around like a lost duckโshe accidentally let slip that she thinks you have a massive, closeted crush on Yolanda. So now thereโs a small but dedicated group of surgical nurses betting that youโre going to come out and run away with our favorite lesbian trauma surgeon."
You let out a long, shaky breath, your hand instinctively dropping to your pocket where your phone sat silent. "This is ridiculous. None of those are true. None of them."
"Exactly," Trinity said, her eyes shifting back to her monitor. "Which means the pot keeps growing. The rule is, if the year ends and youโre either still single or you end up with someone nobody put a sticky note for, the entire cash pot goes to you as a consolation prize for having to deal with our garbage personalities."
"Well, then I look forward to my one thousand dollarsโฆ and more," you said with a wink, trying to make your voice sound light, trying to hide the way your heart was currently hammering against your ribs.
You excused yourself under the pretense of checking on a patient in Bay 4, but as you walked down the corridor, your mind was miles away from the ED. It was back in the high-walled, sterile confines of the third-floor operating suites, where the man who actually owned every single square inch of your thoughts was likely currently resetting a shattered femur with the terrifying, aggressive precision that had earned him his name.
Park the Shark.
They didn't know. None of them knew. They saw the expensive perfumes, the perfect skin, the pilates-toned silhouette under your scrubs, and they thought of sugar daddies or handsome senior residents. They didn't see the dark, quiet office on the upper floor where you spent your rare overlapping hours, or the way those large, powerful handsโhands that could splinter bone with a surgical malletโcould be so incredibly, devastatingly soft when they were tucked into your hair behind closed doors.
Your mind drifted back to how it had started, two years ago, when you were just a fourth-year medical student doing your mandatory surgical rotation. You had been terrified of the third floor. Everyone was. The orthopedic trauma department was notorious for its high-octane, hyper-masculine energy, and at the center of that vortex was Dr. Brendon Park.
He had just been promoted to attending that yearโa meteoric rise that surprised absolutely no one given his sheer, unadulterated brilliance. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered and imposing, with dark eyes that always seemed to be calculating the exact load-bearing capacity of whatever room he was standing in. He didn't walk through the corridors; he commanded them. His voice was a low, resonant baritone that rarely rose in volume but possessed a sharp, cutting edge that could make an entire room of residents freeze in their tracks.
On your first day, you had arrived early, your scrubs slightly too big, your pink notebook clutched to your chest. You were soft-spoken, polite, and undeniably prettyโqualities that Brendon immediately took as signs of weakness.
"You're in the wrong wing, student," he had said, not even looking up from his lightboard where a shattered pelvis film was displayed. "Pediatrics is a floor above. Dermatology is down the hall. They have better lighting for skincare."
You had bitten the inside of your cheek, your small frame stiffening. "I'm scheduled for orthopedic trauma, Dr. Park."
He had finally turned his head, his dark eyes sweeping over you with a slow, dismissive coldness that made your breath catch. "You won't last the week. This isn't a clinic where you hold hands and pass tissues. This is carpentry on human beings. It's loud, it's bloody, and it requires physical force. Go find a department that matches your... delicate disposition."
For the first two weeks, he had made your life an absolute hell. He ignored you during rounds until it was time to pimp you in front of the entire team. He would look past three senior residents, fix those dark, terrifying eyes on you, and ask questions that were well beyond the scope of a medical student.
โExplain the biomechanical advantages of an intramedullary nail over an open reduction internal fixation for a type three composite tibial fracture in a patient with peripheral vascular disease.โ
The residents had shifted uncomfortably. Trinity, who had been an intern then, had smirked, waiting for you to cry.
But you hadn't cried. You had taken a soft, deep breath, looked Brendon straight in his unyielding, handsome face, and answered. Your voice had been quiet, but it hadn't wavered. You detailed the shear forces, the preservation of the periosteal blood supply, and the long-term weight-bearing benefits with absolute, flawless accuracy.
You had watched his left eyebrow twitchโthe only sign that he was surprised.
"Adequate," he had muttered, turning back to the patient. "But your suture technique on that laceration yesterday looked like a middle-school home economics project. Do it again on the practice foam until your fingers don't look like they're made of glass."
The turning point had come during a late-night shift near the end of your rotation. The department had been hit with a six-car pileup on the Parkway, and every single bay was overflowing. You had been on your feet for eighteen hours, your back aching, your hands raw from scrub solution. You had found Brendon in the empty doctors' lounge, staring out the window at the gray Pittsburgh rain, a cold cup of black coffee in his hand.
The exhaustion had made you brave. Or perhaps it had made you stupid.
"Do you hate me, Dr. Park?" you had asked, the door clicking shut behind you.
He hadn't turned around immediately. When he did, his expression was unreadable, his dark hair slightly messy from the surgical cap he had worn for ten hours straight. "I don't have the emotional bandwidth to hate students."
"Then why do you do it?" you had pressed, taking a step forward, your small fists clenching at your sides. "You underestimate me every single day. You tell me I belong in pediatrics. You criticize my techniques even when the other attendings say they're fine. If you want me off your service, just sign the transfer. Stop torturing me."
Brendon had stared at you for a long, agonizing moment. Then, he had set his coffee cup down on the table with a slow, deliberate click. He had walked toward you, his massive frame completely eclipsing the light from the hallway. You had backed up until your shoulders hit the wall beside the door, but he hadn't stopped until he was standing bare inches away. The scent of himโsterile soap, cold air, and something deeply, intensely masculineโhad flooded your senses.
"You think I want you off my service?" he had murmured, his voice dropping into a register so low it made your chest vibrate. His dark eyes had traveled down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, filled with an intensity that made your knees feel weak. "You are entirely oblivious, aren't you?"
"Oblivious to what?" you had whispered.
"To the fact that I can't think straight when you're in the room," he had said, his aggressive confidence suddenly fracturing into something raw, something that sounded dangerously like a confession. His hand had come up, his long, scarred fingers hovering just a millimeter away from your cheek, not quite touching you. "I look at you, and I see someone who doesn't belong in this meat market because you're too good for it. You're soft, you're quiet, and you answer every single one of my impossible questions perfectly just to prove me wrong. I don't want you to leave. I'm terrified that you will."
Your breath had hitched. The world had seemed to tilt on its axis.
After that night, everything had changed, though the rest of the hospital remained completely blind to it. In the OR, when the lights were dimmed for laparoscopic views, his gloved hand would occasionally brush against yoursโa lingering, electric touch that sent tremors down your spine.
During long, grueling reconstructions, his eyes would lock onto yours above his surgical mask, holding your gaze with an intensity that felt more intimate than a touch.
There had been late-night talks in his locked office, sitting on the edge of his desk while he sat in his leather chair, talking about your future, your debts, your fears. There had been quiet, freezing nights on the hospital rooftop, standing close enough to feel his warmth but never touching, the sexual tension between you becoming so thick it was almost suffocating.
You would go home to your small, cramped apartment, and he would go to his townhouse in Mt. Lebanon, and you would lie in your bed, your hands tracing your own skin, closing your eyes and imagining his heavy, powerful body pressing you down into the mattress. You knew, from the tight, strained look on his face whenever he bade you goodnight at the elevator, that he was doing exactly the same thing.
But he wouldn't touch you. Not properly.
"You're a student," he had told you fiercely one night when the tension had nearly broken you, his hands gripping the back of his office sofa so hard his knuckles turned white. "I am an attending. I will not compromise your career, and I will not give anyone in this hospital a reason to say you didn't earn every single thing you achieve. We wait."
And you had waited. You had worked, you had studied, and you had kept his secrets.
Then came Match Day.
The envelope had revealed you were staying at Pittsburgh Trauma, but in the Emergency Departmentโa choice that had surprised the surgery team but made perfect sense to you. You wanted the front lines, the fast pace, the variety.
That night, after the celebrations had died down, you had gone to his office. He had locked the door, pulled the blinds, and for the first time in nearly a year, he had crossed the room and taken you in his arms. The kiss had been explosiveโa release of twelve months of dynamic, repressed yearning that left both of you breathless and trembling.
That was the night the waiting ended. That was the night he had taken you home, stripped you of your clothes with a desperate, heavy reverence, and made you his in every possible way.
"You're doing that thing again," Frank said, snapping his fingers in front of your face.
You blinked, shaking yourself out of the memory. The ED was still there. The fluorescent lights were still humming. "Sorry. What?"
"You had that look. The one where you go to your happy place," Frank said, adjusting his stethoscope. "Come on, we have an influx coming from an overturned bus on the Interstate. Yolanda is already down here looking for extra hands. Let's move."
The next few hours were a blur of high-volume trauma medicine. You moved from bay to bay with fluid efficiency, your soft voice providing a calming counterpoint to the chaotic shouting of paramedics and the screech of monitors. You managed a dislocated shoulder, stabilized a flail chest, and helped Dr. Yolanda Garcia set up an emergency peritoneal lavage.
"Nice work, Barbie," Yolanda said, wiping a splash of saline from her face shield as she stepped back from the bed. The trauma surgeon gave you a warm, appreciative pat on the shoulder. "Your hands are steady. Sure you don't want to switch to general surgery? I could use a resident who doesn't pass out at the sight of an open retroperitoneum."
"I'm happy where I am, Dr. Garcia," you said, smiling shyly .
From across the bay, you caught Victoria Javadiโthe MS4โwatching you with wide, worshipful eyes, her cheeks flushing slightly when you noticed her. You couldn't help but think of the betting pool in Ahmadโs office and had to suppress a giggle. If only they knew that your heart, your body, and your bank account were entirely monopolized by a man who made Yolanda look like a pacifist.
By the time your shift ended at seven in the morning, your legs felt like lead. You walked down to the locker room, peeling off your soiled scrubs and throwing them into the linen bin. You stood in front of the mirror, washing your face with the expensive, gentle cleanser that Brendon insisted on buying for you.
When you had first matched and your relationship became official, you had tried to maintain your fierce independence. You had grown up with nothing, surviving med school on ramen and mounting student loans. But Brendon had completely demolished your defenses with the same aggressive confidence he used in the operating room.
It had started when you complained about being exhausted and wanting to find a way to stay fit outside the hospital. The next day, a confirmation email arrived for a fully paid, unlimited annual membership at the most exclusive pilates studio in the city, located right down the street from your apartment.
โBrendon, I canโt accept this,โ you had told him that night, standing in his kitchen while he cooked dinnerโanother thing he insisted on doing because he claimed you lived on garbage. โItโs too expensive. I have loans.โ
He had stopped chopping the organic vegetables he had delivered to his apartment weekly, turning to look at you with that dark, unyielding gaze. He had walked over, taking your small hands in his massive, warm palms.
โListen to me,โ he had said, his voice low and fiercely protective. โI know about your debts. I know how hard you worked to get here. You spend your entire life taking care of people who are broken into pieces. Let me take care of you. I have the money, and it gives me pleasure to know that you are safe, that you are healthy, and that you have the things you want. Do not rob me of that.โ
He hadn't stopped at pilates.
When he came over to your apartment and opened your fridge, his face had contorted in utter horror at the sight of your Trader Joeโs frozen meals, sodium-packed instant noodles, and processed snacks. "You are putting garbage into your body," he had scolded, his voice firm, his hands on his hips as he glared at a box of frozen pizza. "You work eighty hours a week in a high-stress environment. Your cellular health requires proper nutrition."
The next day, a high-end organic grocery delivery service began arriving at your door every Sunday, stocked with fresh berries, organic greens, wild-caught salmon, and pre-prepared healthy meals. When you tried to transfer him the money, he had flatly rejected it, locking his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck.
"I make half a million dollars a year, and you are drowning in six-figure medical school debt," he had whispered against your skin, his tone softening into that rare, fiercely protective warmth he reserved only for you. "Let me take care of you. I like knowing you are eating well. I like knowing you are pampered when you're away from this hellhole. Your skin, your hair, your healthโthey belong to me to protect. Let me do this."
He had extended that logic to everything. When you lamented the dark circles under your eyes and the stress breakouts from not getting enough sleep, he booked you monthly appointments at a top-tier medical spa. He paid for your expensive skincare regimens, your manicures, and the luxury perfumes you loved. You had fought him on it initially, but he had simply kissed you into submission, whispering against your lips that he liked his woman spoiled, healthy, and beautiful.
You pulled on a fresh pair of leggings, a soft cashmere sweaterโanother giftโand sprayed a light mist of your pear perfume. You looked perfectly refreshed, a stark contrast to the absolute exhaustion vibrating through your muscles.
As you walked past the security desk on your way to the exit, you saw Ahmad, the ED security guard, sitting in his small glass office. Through the open door, you could see the corner of the whiteboard.
There it was. A cluster of neon-colored sticky notes, each one bearing a name and a dollar amount. The sticky notes were a testament to your popularity.
Dr. Michael โRobbyโ Robinavitch : $120
A heavy favorite among the older nursing staff. You genuinely believed you had a sweet, father-daughter style mentorship with him, but Robby definitely felt a certain attraction, entirely held back by the massive age gap and the terrifying prospect of a hospital board inquiry. He had even secretly tossed fifty dollars into the pool under a pseudonym, just out of sheer curiosity to see if he even registered as a contender.
Dr. Jack Abbot : $330
The rugged, former army doctor who doubled as a medic for the SWAT team. You actually did have a minor, harmless high school-style crush on Abbot. A few weeks into your residency, you had seen him roll into the bay in his full tactical gear, sweaty, soot-stained, and undeniably commanding. It was a fun work crush, completely separate from your reality, but the staff had noticed the way you blushed whenever he spoke to you in his low, gravelly military cadence. Abbot, being a man of action, had caught wind of the pool and placed a cool hundred dollars on himself, mostly out of competitive spite.
Dr. Nick Barker : $100
The Disney Prince-like who constantly pined for you, tailoring his schedule just to deliver imaging results to you in person.
Dr. Frank Langdon : $470
The senior resident and your close friend. A massive portion of the residents bet that you two were secretly engaging in casual, stress-relief sex in the call rooms.
The Wildcard Bet: $20
A small, cynical faction of paramedics bet that you actually liked women, pointing to your friendly interactions with Dr. Yolanda Garcia, the brilliant, openly lesbian trauma surgeon who often praised your calm demeanor under pressure.
You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips. It was hilarious, really. They were all betting on an impossible game.
Because nobody had written the name Brendon Park.
Two nights later, the stars aligned in a way that rarely happened in residency: both you and Brendon had a scheduled night off together.
You were sitting at the high marble island in his Mt. Lebanon townhouse, a glass of expensive red wine between your fingers. The apartment was sleek, modern, and quietโa perfect sanctuary from the madness of both of your workplace.
Brendon was standing at the stove, his broad back turned to you, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the thick, vascular forearms that could manipulate orthopedic hardware with ease.
You were feeling loose, relaxed, and a little bit mischievous from the wine.
"So," you said, your voice sliding into a soft, teasing cadence. "I found out something interesting at the guard station the other night."
Brendon didn't turn around, but you saw his shoulders drop slightly into an attentive posture. "What's that?"
"Apparently, the entire ED has a betting pool about my love life." you laughed, entirely missing the way Brendonโs entire body instantly went rigid.
The motion of his spatula stopped. For a second, the kitchen was entirely silent except for the hiss of the chicken searing in the pan. Then, he slowly turned around. His dark eyes were hooded, his face a mask of cold, sharp focus that made your stomach do a delicious, familiar little flip.
"A betting pool," he repeated, his baritone voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet register.
"Mmhm," you said, taking a sip of wine, completely oblivious to the storm brewing behind his eyes. You thought heโd find the absurdity of it amusing. "Itโs on a whiteboard in Ahmadโs office. The techs, the nurses, the paramedicsโtheyโve all put money down on who Iโm going to end up with. Or who Iโm currently... you know, seeing."
Brendon leaned back against the counter, crossing his thick arms over his chest. The soft, protective boyfriend you had spent the evening with had vanished, replaced instantly by the possessive, dominant man who ruled the third floor. "Give me the names."
You blinked, realizing too late that you had miscalculated. "Oh, it's just silly gossip, Brendon. It's not a big deal."
"Give me the names, sweetheart," he commanded, his voice softer now, but with an underlying weight that left absolutely no room for negotiation.
You swallowed against the sudden dryness in your throat. "Um... well, Nick Barker from Radiology is on there. He apparently has a hundred dollars down that Iโll go out with him."
Brendonโs eyes narrowed into slits. "Barker. The one who always goes down the ED to read scans in person with you, that bastard couldnโt be more slicker.โ
โContinue.โ he said coldly, you felt it in your spine.
"And... Dr. Robby which is so weird because heโs like a dad to me and uhhโฆ Dr. Abbot," you continued quickly, wanting to get it over with. "And some of the staff put money on Frank."
"Langdon," Brendon growled, his jaw clenching so hard you heard the click of his teeth. "The senior who thinks dropping his arm over your shoulders is an acceptable form of communication."
"We're just friends, Brendon! Heโs my seniorโ"
"I don't care what he thinks he is," Brendon said, his voice entirely flat, entirely territorial. He flipped the stove off, walked around the island, his steps slow and deliberate, until he was standing right in front of your stool. He reached out, his large, warm hand gripping your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look into the dark, burning depths of his eyes. "They think you're available. They think they can pass you around like a prize, betting on who gets to touch what belongs to me."
"Brendon, itโs just a jokeโ" you whispered, your heart pounding, your skin instantly flushing with a high, electric heat.
"It is not a joke." he interrupted fiercely, his voice cutting like a scalpel. โYou think itโs funny that these bastard attendings and residents are looking at you, fantasizing about you, putting a price tag on your body?โ The sheer intensity of his jealousy made your breath hitch, a wave of heat blooming deep in your core. Brendon was a profoundly possessive man, but seeing him this worked up over the hospital gossip was incredibly intense.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "Do you know what it does to me, hearing that? Knowing that these men look at you every day, thinking they have a chance?"
"I don't look at them," you gasped, your hands coming up to grip his thick wrists. "I only see you."
"Good," he said, his voice dropping into that deep, authoritative but gentle tone that always made you completely surrender. "Because if I see Langdon or any of those guys touch you again, Iโm going to break their radius and reset it myself. Without anesthesia."
"You're insane," you whispered, a breathless laugh escaping you while unconsciously clenching your thighs together.
"I'm serious," he corrected, his hand sliding down from your chin to wrap around the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. He pulled you off the stool and into his chest, his mouth crashing down onto yours with a terrifying, hungry intensity.
It wasn't like his usual gentle kisses. This was the kiss of a man who had been reminded that his treasure was being eyed by thieves. He tasted of rich wine and dark promises. He backed you up against the kitchen wall, his heavy thigh sliding between your legs, pressing upward against your core until a soft moan was forced out of your throat. He broke the kiss for a fraction of a second, his eyes wild and dark as he looked down at your flushed face. "I am going to fuck you so hard tonight that you won't be able to think about anything but my name when you're standing in front of that white board tomorrow."
He lifted you effortlessly, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. He carried you to the bedroom, throwing you onto the mattress with a heavy, passionate force. He stripped your clothes off with fierce efficiency, his eyes devouring every inch of the body he had paid to pamper, the body he cherished above everything else.
When he entered you, it was deep, slow, and devastatingly possessive. He held your wrists pinned above your head with one massive hand, his fingers anchoring you to the bed while his body drove into yours with a rhythmic, unyielding power.
"Tell me itโs mine." he growled against your throat, his teeth biting gently into the soft skin over your collarbone.
"Itโs yours," you cried out, your back arching off the sheets, your mind entirely consumed by the sensation of him filling you, stretching you, claiming you. "Brendon, please... I'm yours."
"Say it again," he commanded, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming harder, more aggressive, driving you closer and closer to the edge.
"I- Iโm yoursโฆ I belong to you," you sobbed, your eyes watering from the sheer intensity of the pleasure. "Only you, Brendon. Only you."
He let go of your wrists then, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against his sweating, muscular chest as he delivered the final, deep strokes that sent you shattering into a brilliant, blinding orgasm. He followed you over the edge a second later, a low, animalistic groan tearing from his chest as he came inside you, his heavy body collapsing against yours, holding you so tight it felt as though he wanted to fuse your bones together.
Later, in the quiet dark of the early morning, as you lay with your head on his chest, listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart, you smiled into the darkness.
Let them bet, you thought. Let them play their little games. They would never, in a million years, guess the truth.
The morning shift had been an absolute nightmare. A multi-vehicle accident on the bridge had flooded the ED with critical patients and by noon, the department was functioning on pure chaos.
You were in Bay 2, attempting to stabilize a patient who had been brought in with a severe closed head injury. He was a massive man, a construction worker, easily six-foot-four and over two hundred and fifty pounds. He had been unconscious on arrival, but as the intracranial pressure began to fluctuate, he suddenly surged into a state of violent, disoriented ICU psychosis.
"Whoa, whoa! Sir, stay down!" you shouted, your voice swallowed by the noise of the room.
The patient screamed, a wild, animalistic sound, and began flailing his massive arms. He ripped his IV lines out, spraying blood across the sheets. He threw himself sideways, trying to scramble off the gurney.
"I need restraint lines and chemical sedation now!" you called out to the R1, Dennis Whitaker, who was standing at the foot of the bed, his eyes wide with absolute panic.
"What do I give? What do I give?" Dennis stammered, his hands shaking as he reached into the medication cart.
"Versed! Five milligrams, IV or IM, now!" you ordered, leaning over the patientโs torso, using your entire body weight to try and pin his shoulders down so he wouldn't fracture his cervical spine against the metal rails.
"I've got it! I've got it!" Dennis cried, his voice cracking. He scrambled forward with a syringe.
What happened next occurred in a fraction of a second.
The patient threw his head back, his massive arm swinging upward in a blind, violent arc. His fist caught you squarely in the chest, lifting your small frame off the bed and throwing you backward. At the exact same moment, Dennis, completely panicked and stumbling forward to try and inject the patient, tripped over the monitor cables.
The needle in his hand went flying as he went down.
You hit the hard linoleum floor with a sickening thud, the breath knocked completely out of your lungs. Before you could even register the pain in your back, you felt a sharp, sudden puncture in the soft meat of your shoulder. Dennis had landed directly on top of you, his hand plunging the syringe into your arm in a blind, terrified reflex before he even realized what he was hitting.
It wasn't five milligrams of Versed. In his panic, Dennis had pulled a pre-loaded syringe of a high-dose, rapid-acting paralytic and sedative combination meant for an RSI kit.
"Oh my god! I'm sorry! I slipped! I didn't mean toโ" Dennisโs voice sounded like it was underwater.
You tried to speak, tried to tell him it was okay, but your tongue suddenly felt like a massive, leaden weight in your mouth. The room began to spin, the fluorescent lights stretching into long, blinding streaks of white. Your limbs grew incredibly heavy, then entirely numb.
"Hey! Hey, look at me!" Frankโs voice boomed from somewhere above you, his hands grabbing and shaking your shoulders.
You tried to blink, but your eyelids refused to cooperate. The last thing you registered was the sound of Dana Evans shouting for a crash cart and the frantic, terrifying realization that you were slipping into complete unconsciousness.
Dana Evans was an absolute force of nature. Within two minutes, she had organized the bay, helped Frank safely intubate the combative construction worker, and had you lifted onto a fresh gurney in the adjacent isolation room.
"Her vitals are stable, but she's completely out," Frank said, his voice tense as he checked your pupillary response with a penlight. "Whitaker gave her a full dose of an RSI cocktail. Sheโs breathing on her own, thankfully, but sheโs going to be under for at least a few hours until it metabolizes."
"That idiot," Trinity Santos hissed, standing at the door with her arms crossed, looking ready to murder the R1. "He should be banned from carrying sharp objects."
"We need to notify her family," Dana said, her fingers already flying across the computer terminal at the desk. "Sheโs a resident, she has to have an emergency contact on file in the employee portal."
Frank stood over you, his face lined with genuine worry. He reached down, gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from your foreheadโa platonic gesture of comfort for his friend. "Yeah, see whoโs listed. She said her parents live out of state. Check if she has a local contact."
Dana clicked through the secure HR database, her eyes scanning down the page of your digital employee file. "Let's see... Emergency Contact... Primary..."
Suddenly, Danaโs fingers stopped moving. Her eyes widened, her jaw dropping open in a display of pure, unadulterated shock that none of the staff had ever seen from the veteran nurse.
"What is it?" Trinity asked, stepping closer to the monitor. "Is it an ex? A friend?"
Dana blinked, staring at the screen as if it were written in ancient hieroglyphics. "No. It's... it's a local number. And the name..."
"Who is it, Dana?" Frank asked, getting impatient.
"It's Dr. Brendon Park," Dana whispered, her voice cracking slightly.
The entire nursing station fell dead silent.
"Wait," Frank said, a nervous laugh escaping his chest. "Park? As in Park the Shark? The ortho chief? Why the hell would he be her emergency contact? Did she accidentally list her old surgical rotation supervisor?"
"The relationship field," Dana said, her voice dropping into a tone of absolute awe, "does not say supervisor. It says Partner."
"What?!" Trinity whispered-shouted, her brain instantly short-circuiting. "That's impossible! Heโs... heโs a robot! He doesn't have a partner! He doesn't even have friends! He eats glass for breakfast!"
"I'm calling it," Dana said, her hand already reaching for the desk phone, her internal professional compass overriding her shock. "Heโs listed. If sheโs injured, he has to know."
She dialed the number. It rang exactly once before a deep, harsh baritone boomed through the speaker, loud enough for Frank and Trinity to hear.
"Park."
"Dr. Park, this is Dana Evans from the ED. We have an emergency involvingโ"
"Is she hurt?" The shift in his voice was instantaneous. The cold, professional distance was completely stripped away, replaced by a raw, terrifying panic that made Danaโs breath catch.
"Sheโs stable, Doctor, but there was an incident in Bay 2. An intern accidentally sedated her during a patient altercation. Sheโs unconsciousโ"
The line went dead. He had hung up.
"Well," Frank said, his face completely pale as he looked from the phone to your sleeping form. "I think the betting pool just exploded."
It took exactly seventy-four seconds for Dr. Brendon Park to travel from the third-floor orthopedic suites to the ground-floor Emergency Department.
He didn't use the elevator. He took the stairs, throwing the heavy fire doors open with a violence that echoed down the hall. When he burst into the ED, he was still in his blue surgical scrubs, his face set into an expression of such pure, unadulterated fury that the paramedics standing by the entrance instinctively scattered out of his path.
"Where is she?" he roared, his voice bouncing off the concrete walls.
Ahmad, sitting in his security office, looked up from his monitors, his jaw dropping as he saw the towering orthopedic chief marching toward the main desk like a localized hurricane.
"Bay... Bay 6, Dr. Park," Dennis Whitaker squeaked, his voice cracking as he tried to hide behind a stack of clean linens. He was hyperventilating, entirely aware that his medical careerโand possibly his physical safetyโwas now in imminent danger.
Brendon didn't even look at the intern. He shoved past the central desk, his dark eyes locking onto the isolation room where you lay.
Frank Langdon was standing outside the door, his hands in his pockets, trying to maintain his composure as his senior resident status dictated. "Dr. Park, listen, sheโs fine. Her vitals areโ"
Brendon stopped bare inches from Frankโs face. The difference in size and pure, aggressive presence was staggering. "Get away from her door, Langdon."
"Dr. Park, I'm her senior residentโ"
"If you don't step aside in the next three seconds," Brendon whispered, his voice vibrating with a quiet, lethal intensity that made Frankโs golden-boy confidence instantly evaporate, "I will personally ensure you spend the rest of your residency doing rectal exams in the clinic. Move."
Frank moved. He stepped aside, his hands raised in surrender.
Brendon threw the door open and stepped into the room, the heavy glass slider clicking shut behind him, cutting off the sound of the entire ED staff who had now gathered around the nursing station, staring through the windows with wide, terrified eyes.
The moment he reached your bedside, the terrifying "Shark" completely dissolved.
Brendon dropped to the stool beside your gurney, his massive frame suddenly looking incredibly small as he reached out, his hands tremblingโhands that never shook, not even during the most complex spinal reconstructions. He wrapped his large, warm palms around your face, his thumbs gently wiping away a trace of dried sweat from your temple.
"Baby," he choked out, his voice thick with a raw, agonizing emotion that none of the people outside could have ever imagined him possessing.
"Baby, look at me. Open your eyes." He checked your pulse, his fingers pressing against your carotid artery with a desperate, frantic tenderness. He checked the monitor, his eyes scanning the oxygen saturation and heart rate with the practiced speed of a top-tier surgeon, his shoulders finally dropping a fraction of an inch as he confirmed you were indeed stable.
He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes closed tightly as he let out a long, shuddering breath. "God damn it, baby... you scared me to death."
Outside the glass, the audience was utterly paralyzed.
"Did he... did he just call her baby?" Trinity whispered, her nose practically pressed against the glass window.
"Look at his face," Dana said softly, a small, knowing smile finally breaking through her shock. "That man doesn't just love her. He's absolutely consumed by her."
Frank stood beside them, rubbing the back of his neck, a look of profound realization dawning on his face. "ER Barbie... and Park the Shark. Holy hell. The expensive perfume. The pilates. The organic food. It wasn't a sugar daddy. It was him."
"He bought her a Burberry jacket last month," Dennis whimpered from the back of the crowd, still clutching his linens. "I saw the delivery receipt in her locker. I thought she won a lottery."
"You're an idiot, Dennis," Trinity muttered, not taking her eyes off the scene.
Inside the room, the world was completely quiet. The high-dose sedative was beginning to lose its grip on your brain, the dark clouds in your mind slowly parting as a familiar, deep baritone voice anchored you back to reality.
You blinked, your eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks. The blurry shape above you gradually resolved into the sharp, handsome face of your boyfriend. His dark eyes were bloodshot, his jaw tight, his expression a mix of profound relief and lingering fury.
"Brendon...?" you whispered, your voice incredibly raspy, your hand weakly twitching inside his grasp.
"I'm here, baby," he murmured, his voice incredibly soft, incredibly sweet as he leaned down to press a tender, lingering kiss to your lips right in front of the entire hospital staff. He didn't care about the rules anymore. He didn't care about the secrets. He had almost lost you, and nothing else mattered. "I'm right here. You're safe."
You managed a small, groggy smile, your fingers curling around his thick thumb. "Did... did Dennis sedated me?"
Brendon let out a low, dark chuckle, his thumb rubbing your cheek. "He did. And heโs currently praying for a quick death. But don't worry about him. Focus on me."
You looked past his shoulder, your eyes finally registering the crowd of nurses, residents, and techs standing outside the glass door, their faces a collective mosaic of absolute, unadulterated shock.
You saw Frank staring at you with his mouth open. You saw Trinity looking like her entire worldview had been shattered. And you saw Ahmad, the security guard, slowly walking out of his office, a giant marker in his hand, heading toward the whiteboard.
"Brendon," you whispered, the realization finally hitting your drug-addled brain. "The... the betting pool."
Brendon looked over his shoulder, his eyes locking onto the crowd outside with a cold, protective glare that made half of them instantly step back. Then, he turned back to you, his face softening into that private, beautiful smile that was reserved only for you.
"Let them look," he murmured, leaning down to kiss your forehead, his large hand anchoring you safely against his chest. "Let them look, sweetheart. Theyโre about to owe you a lot of money."
You had been worked to the bone for your regular scheduled shift. But now you were forced to pull a double on a day where youโve been struggling to sleep and relax for the last week. Thankfully your attending that youโve been casual friends with benefits before he broke it off suddenly noticed your exhaustion
CW: 18+ MDNI, smut, unprotected p i v, fingering, oral (f), teeniest angst if you blink youโll miss it
Note: I have severe writers block and Iโve been in a weird funk so here whorish Jack abbot while I set myself straight ๐ญ
You were so tired. More than tired if you were honest. In fact, you could definitely be diagnosed for being in a current psychotic break driven by lack of rest and sleep. It had been about a week since you slept more than two hours at a time. So when Gloria mentioned being mandated to stay for a double, itโs safe to say you were less than enthusiastic.
You had believed that you were hiding your exhaustion well, keeping up with your cases and rarely closing your eyes for longer than a few seconds. However, in reality you were dragging your feet across the floor, shoes squeaking with each step. And your blinks lasted almost a minute long, plus your reaction time was absolutely lagging.
Luckily for you, no one really noticed. Already busy with their own work especially since it was night shift. But one person did, and that was the last person you wanted to notice. Your attending Jack Abbot. The man who had been there for you since you were an MS4, and somehow became your go to guy for casual sex during your R3 year.
But in the middle of your R4 he suddenly broke things off with you. No explanation, no big speech about how itโs not you itโs him. Just a simple โwe canโt do this anymore, Iโm sorryโ text. You did your best to brush it off and act as if he didnโt break your heart. You had to, it was supposed to be no strings attached.
Unfortunately those strings had a tight grip around your heart, and even if you didnโt want to admit it they still do. So when the familiar scent of his faded cologne came across your senses and the familiar warmth of his hand rested at your lower back you didnโt fight much against his guidance.
With half lidded eyes you mumbled a sentence that sounded almost like you were trying to say โwhat the fuckโ. But it was as if your tongue was lead, slurring together each vowel and consonant. But the moment Jack ended up manhandled you into an on call room bed your mind began waking.
โDr.Abbot what do you think youโre doing?โ Your elbows bent against the soft blankets propping up your upper body.
โDonโt pull that bullshit with me kidโ his graveled scoff rang out, โweโre alone so itโs Jack, and donโt act like you arenโt fighting your every nerve to stay awakeโ
โWell not anymore seeing as Iโm not tired, Abbotโ
โThe fuck do you mean not tired youโre wobbling all over the damn place and basically taking a nap with each goddamn blink!โ He crossed his arms and swayed closer to where you lay.
His wide stance and concerned gaze pulled a long sigh from you before flopping back on the bed. Eyes tearing up just slightly.
โLook even if I wanted to sleep I canโt get more than two hours at a timeโ you squeezed your eyes closed as the stinging sensation built behind your lids, โIโve tried everything to help me sleep but nothing is workingโ
โSince when have you had problems sleeping?โ Jack furrowed his brows trying to remember the last time you had such an issue, โusually I had problems keeping you awake or waking you upโ
His casual mentioning of your previous relationship had your mood souring quickly. You could stand being on the same floor as him and even in the same room. But the obliviousness and ignorance he mustโve held to just bring it up as it was nothing had you angrier than you or he expected.
โRight well you donโt know me anymore Dr.Abbot, and you lost the privilege to my personal life outside of these walls months ago,โ the speed at which you stood up was incredible considering how tired you were, โIโm no longer interested in whatever little hero fantasy dreamland you thought was going to play out hereโ
Your words had him flinching back as they hit him square in the chest. When he broke it off with you it was because he had realized that the ache in his chest everytime he saw you was too real. The care he felt for you became too real. And he knew that a man of his age and history would only bring a young woman like you with a bright future down with him. He didnโt however, account for your own feelings.
โHey, hey Iโm sorry okayโ he gently grasped your arm and raised his other in the air as a small surrender, โI just wanted to check on you and make sure youโre okayโ
His insistence to play the good guy was simultaneously melting your heart all over again, and pissing you off more. And because all you know is to take control and hurt someone before hurting you, you meant for your next words to hurt.
โWell Jack we canโt do this anymoreโ you mirrored his last text to you, โexcept Iโm not sorry, in fact Iโm glad you cut it off before I realized how much you just werenโt worth the effortโ
Now those words wouldโve absolutely broken him, if it werenโt for the accumulation of tears and the crack in your voice that told him you didnโt truly mean them. But it did tell him just how much he hurt you, and that made it worse than if you had actually meant what you said.
So with more determination than before he grabbed your shoulders, spun you around and pulled you into his chest. Wrapping an arm around your mid back to keep you in place and another above your shoulders so he could hold your head.
โGet off of me!โ You fought the urge to relax and let go, refusing to just give in, โJack I-please-I canโt!โ
โHey enough okay Iโm sorry, Iโm so sorry babyโ he tightened his hold as your fists hit his chest, โI was selfish okay and Iโm so sorry, but please let me help you and we can talk about all this laterโ
โI donโt want your helpโ
The softer tone of your voice made it very hard for you to seem angry still. As well as the way you were leaning into his chest and gripping his shirt.
โEven if you donโt want to, will you at least let me try?โ
His hands moved up and down your back before they both traveled to the sides of your face. One on each side as he tilted your head away from his shirt. Jack leaned his forehead down to touch yours, noses brushing against each other. Your eyes instinctively closed at the contact, lips seeking his. Touching only for a moment before he spoke softly.
โSuch a little brat like always,โ his lips kissed your nose, โneed to hear you say yes, okay?โ
You nod, unable to form the words. Just desperately seeking his touch, his taste, him. Truly you should be ashamed how quickly you have in. But in all honestly you missed his warmth and the safety he gave you.
โCโmon baby, one little word. And then Iโll take care of you just like you needโ Jacks lips brushed yours with each syllable, the taste of mint gum wafted across your mouth.
โY-yesโ
With a slight tilt of your head by his hands, his lips finally sought yours out. A small smirk forming on his as you let out a breathy moan, you had missed this. You had missed him.
He led you back to the bed, where you sat down instinctively when the back of your knees felt the mattress. His lips trailed across your face and down the column of your neck, taking the time to suck a harsh mark or two just above your scrub collar. His fingers playing with the hem of your top before he slipped it off. Your bra following closely after.
โGod how I want to take my time with you after so long, but we donโt have much time babyโ he laid your upper body down before slipping of your bottoms. โNext time Iโll make sure you know just how much I love youโ
While your mind was warped and filled with pleasure and exhaustion that didnโt mean his words didnโt register with you. You just needed a moment to process, but he didnโt think twice. You werenโt even sure he fully realized what he said, but the look in his eyes said he did.
But as Jacks thumb expertly found your clit, and created tight circles he wasnโt expecting a response. Especially when he shoved two thick fingers into your soaking wet cunt, curling them just right seemingly never forgetting the curves and contours of your body. The feeling of being stuffed full and aching had you finally moaning out your response.
โOh fuck Jack! Feels sโgood please donโt stop, I-I love you tooโ
His movements stuttered for just a moment before he doubled down. Dropping onto his good knee and replacing his fingers at your clit with his mouth. Swirling his tongue as if he was trying to carve his name into your skin. And the fingers that were still buried so deeply into you kept hitting that one spot at the roof of your anterior walls.
Only taking a few more curls and a particularly harsh suck of your clit before you came, hard, and a bit too loud for it being your place of work.
โThatโs it baby, let it out. You taste just as good as I rememberโ
His gravely voice was sex to your ears, clouding your judgement with each word. Barely registering the sound of his zipper or the clink of his belt. Only opening your eyes when his large hands lifted both your legs onto his shoulders. Remembering just how big he was you tried to scoot away.
โAh ah ah, I gotchya donโt worry, I know itโs been a while so Iโll take it nice and slowโ he dragged out the end of the word nice in a smug tone.
Notching the head of his cock at your cunt, you made one last attempt to slip at least one leg down. But Jack just leaned his upper body forward, stretching your hamstrings so that you couldnโt slip off. He also reached a hand up to cover your mouth, but before you could ask what he was doing, his hips thrusted forward in a not so slow manner.
His unbelievably thick cock splitting you open as he only got halfway down. The hand that you werenโt sure why was on your mouth now made sense, your guttural moans were thankfully muffled as your nerves were overwhelmed with him.
โLook at that baby, only halfway in and sheโs squeezing me so tightly,โ Jack pulled out just slightly before pushing back in sneaking in more of his length, โsheโs just weeping with how much she missed me, huh?โ
With one more push, his entire cock was buried deep in your warmth, his cock head resting tightly against your cervix. Moving your legs forward just a bit more so your butt was slightly off the bed, he pulled out until just the last inch was left before slamming back into you.
The force pushing all the air from your lungs, over and over again. His brutal pace had him bullying your walls over and over. And with a small adjustment to the angle of his hips, Jack had you seeing stars. You both could feel the way your second orgasm was building as your cunt contracted around his cock every so often.
โP-please n-need tโcum Jackie!โ
โShhh, Iโm almost done okay just hold on fโme I know you canโ
A pathetic whine left your lips as you nodded in agreement, trying your best to stave off your orgasm. But you were so exhausted and your eyes lids felt as if they were 30lbs. So in one breath you had lost the grip you had on holding it back as your mind drifted off in briefly into unconsciousness for two seconds before you were brought back by the most intense orgasm youโve had in months ripping through you.
Sounds you didnโt know you could make were emanating from your throat, and just above you Jack decided it would be a good time to join you. His thrusts slowed burying himself as deep as he could go and stuck to grinding his hips. Seeing as the tight clench of your cunt made it hard for him to keep his pace. But he didnโt mind, he loved knowing only he was capable of fucking you this good.
It took less than a minute before he buried his face into your neck and began emptying himself deep inside of your warmth. Grunting out his release and deciding later is a better time to worry about any consequences about forgoing a condom. Resting his body tight against yours he rode out both your highs.
As the fluttering of your walls slowed and relaxed he finally pulled himself out of you and noticed the familiar soft snores sounding from you. Jack took the time to move you into a proper sleeping position before grabbing a cloth from the closet to clean you up. The water was warm but you didnโt even bat an eye at the sensation.
Pulling up the covers he tucked you in before giving you a kiss on the forehead.
โIโm taking you to my place after work and we are settling everything once and for allโ
Your only reply was a snuggle of the pillow he placed under your head. Walking out of the room he made sure to put up the occupied/DND sign before walking back onto the floor. Something he regretted when the sight of his two fellow doctors Ellis and Shen greeted him with overly satisfied looks.
โNot the big bad attending using the on call rooms for all his sick little desiresโ Shen chuckled out reaching for his coffee cup.
โExcuse me?โ
โOh donโt play coy with us Abbot you put that girl through workโ Ellis patted him on the back, โand thank god because we were all worried you would never admit your feelingsโ
โJust make sure youโre quieter next time. Myrna ratted you out to us when she found herself down a hall she wasnโt supposed to be inโ Shen then turned to Ellis ignoring Abbots utter shock and embarrassment. Which looked more like angry but theses two knew him very well.
โYou take three and Iโll take the other three of her patients while lover boy takes the rest?โ Ellis nodded in response before Jack finally spoke up.
โWoah rest of what smart asses?โ
โHer patients because that girl was on the brink of death before yall left and I donโt even want to think of her state nowโ
Ellis shuddered at the idea she created in her head before walking off with Shen. Both of them leaving Jack at the nurses station with a small smile overtaking his expression.
โWay to go hot stuff I knew you still had it in yahโ Myrna rolled up behind Jack and delivered a sharp smack to his butt with her hand before rolling away.
That had Jack going back to his patients without a second thought before the night could get any weirder. But there was no denying the new pep in his step as all he could think about was getting you home with him, which is where you belonged.
The Grey Method - Jack Abbot x Meredith Greyโs Sister
Summary: Jack meets your sister and brother-in-law while theyโre in Pittsburgh for a medical conference.
Tags: fluff, humour, canon divergence, Reader is Meredithโs half sister through Thatcher, Readerโs age is not specified but is between Meredith and Lexi, Molly doesnโt exist in this fic, Derek is a supportive brother in law, S8 crash doesnโt happen, Jack is a supportive boyfriend, medical inaccuracies, not proof read.
Word count: 2.1k
A/N: My companion piece to Paging Doctor Shepherd.
โJust when we think weโve figured things out, the universe throws us a curveball. So we have to improvise. We find happiness in unexpected places. We find our way back to the things that matter the most. The universe is funny that way, sometimes it just has a way of making sure we wind up exactly where we belong.โ
It had been several years since you moved away from Seattle, from your sisters Meredith and Lexi. Despite the distance, you still remained close to your half-sister as she completed her surgical boards and you started your fellowship in point-of-care ultrasound. Halfway through your emergency med residency, however, you decided to make the leap and leave Seattle for Pittsburgh unable to watch Thatcher nearly drink himself to death after your mother died.
Choosing to work the night shift, you met Doctor Jack Abbot. A handsome silver fox who cared about his residents and wanted them to succeed. Overtime you had grown a massive crush on him that Meredith and Lexi teased you about. Apparently all the Grey women were attracted to older men. And doctors, no less.
You had also made close friends with people on the night shift including Shen, Ellis, Henderson, Chantanah, Mateo, Bridget, and Vivi. At first you had thought Jack was keeping a professional distance because you had offended him or simply because he didnโt like you. That, it turned out, to be quite the opposite. After a gruelling shift from hell where there were multiple losses from young people and a veteran, you found Jack on the roof around 4am. You had talked him down before hand offs with Robby. Following that episode on the roof, youโd taken him to a small cafรฉ for coffee and bagels where he had admitted to you (and probably himself) that he held a flame for you and asked you out on a date. He barely had the words out of his mouth when you agreed.
Now you were halfway through your 12 month fellowship and you had a signed contract with PTMC as their newest night shift attending pending you passed those boards.
Earlier that week you had received a message from Meredith that she and Derek would be in Pittsburgh for the annual American Surgical Association convention asking if you would be free for dinner that Thursday evening. You, of course, had said yes as you were now on a weird shift rotation between days and night as a part of your additional training.
So, while you were headed out the door of your and Jackโs house (you had agreed to move in when your apartment lease was ending), you took a dress and pair of shoes to change into after shift as the pair would pick you up at the ED.
Twelve hours on your feet to be followed by hours wearing a nice pair of high heels did not sound nice as of right now. In the later half of your shift, Jack had shown up after his police scanner had notified him of a major MVC on the crosstown express way that resulted in at least a dozen patients. Only five of those patients had to be rushed to surgery.
For the first time in hours, you were able to finally sit down at the nurses station and catch up on charts before your sister came to pick you up in 40 minutes. From behind, you felt a warm yet reassuring hand rest on your upper back.
โYou doing okay, sweetheart?โ Said Jack leaning over to kiss you on the cheek.
โIโm fine,โ you replied turning your head towards him, โitโs been a long day and Iโm waiting on Mer. Derek picked some fancy restaurant downtown so I have to look presentable tonight.โ
โIโm sure youโll survive.โ
โBarely.โ
Suddenly the portable phone you had been carrying started to ring. Reception.
โHey Lupe, whatโs up?โ
โI have another Doctor Grey and a Doctor Shepherd here looking for you.โ
โOh! Yeah send them in to the nurses station. Thanks!โ
โNo sweat.โ
Hanging up the phone, you rubbed the drowsiness out of your eyes. โTheyโre here early.โ
From across the ED, you saw a familiar shade of honey blonde hair walking towards you. Meredith. You stood up from your stool nearly knock it over and Perlah in the process rushing to hug your older sister.
"You're here!" You exclaimed jovially pulling Meredith into a bone crushing hug."
"I'm here!" She returned the hug before letting go, "and you're full of blood."
"It's dried. Not like you spend your days digging around in people's body cavities." You quipped in response rolling your eyes.
"I keep telling her that it's less messy poking people's brains. Y/N, it's nice seeing you again." Derek retorted jokingly as he moved around your sister wrapping his arms around you and placing a small but respectful kiss on your forehead. Similar to Lexi, Derek had always acted like an older brother to you both; he would fist fight anyone that disrespected you or referred to you as less than you actually were.
"You both look great!" You noted looking at Meredith's navy blue dress that matched Derek's suit minus the neck tie which he must've discarded. "We just finished up with MVC patients so I haven't had a chance to change."
"Don't worry, we're early." Meredith waved you off as you led them to the nurses station.
Jack, who was now sitting in your spot finishing charts on the computer, smiled as you approached him.
โMer, Derek, this is Jack, who youโve told you about. And this is our day shift charge nurse, Dana.โ You made introductions.
โHowโs it goinโ?โ Asked Dana moving around the desk getting things in order for hand offs. Abruptly before you could even say more, the emergency landline rang with Dana answering.
โYou got to be fuckinโ kidding me? Okay, thanks.โ Dana exclaimed already tired from the dayโs events. โHey kid, can you handle one more patient for me? Gonna need an ultrasound. Five year old boy swallowed foreign object and now he bleeding with uncontrolled vomiting.โ
โSure, and letโs page surgery in case.โ
Standing in Trauma 4, you along with Langdon, Princess, and your sister watched the screen as you waved the wand across the five year oldโs belly.
โLook,โ Frank pointed out, โis that moving?โ
โYes,โ you confirmed looking harder at the screen. โTheyโre magnets. And theyโre moving in different directions and going to tear through the stomach lining. Get the portable x-ray, and we need to get this kid into surgery now.โ
"His bowel is going to be perforated before we even get him up stairs." Meredith commented urgently, "is there anyway we can get him open now?"
"Perlah, go tell Dr. Al-Hashimi that Dr. Grey needs privileges to operate. Tell her I sent you. If she disagrees, go ask Dr. Abbot." You instructed the nurse while moving across the room to grab the x-ray. "Langdon, go get the parent's consent."
Glancing at Meredith, you watched her start pulling out supplies from different drawers.
"Doctor Grey, it's been a while since we've worked together." She remarked smiling.
"Oh I know, Doctor Grey. I just hope you can keep up."
Jackโs POV
Watching you and your sister wander off with a patient, he was left with your brother in law.
โCome on, looks like you need some fresh air.โ Derek nodded towards the ambulance bay.
Jack didnโt disagree with the other man after the day he had. A reprieve from the ED was more than welcoming. The two of them walked in silence as the department continued to be on wheels with patients and patient families from the victims of the MVC earlier that afternoon. The fresh August air in the ambulance bay was almost soothing to Jack who was inhaling sterile air and smelling iron all day.
"So, you have a ring yet?" Derek questioned looking at him.
"I'm sorry?"
Derek raised an eyebrow at Jack pointedly. โAn engagement ring. For when you ask Y/N to marry you? Come on, don't tell me you haven't thought of it.โ
"It's too soon." Admitted Jack who did not want to rush into a marriage simply because he was older.
"No it's not.โ Derek counted shoving his hands into his jacket pocket. โTrust me, I was ready to throw it all away when I met Meredith. I'd tried to fix my first marriage after my ex-wife had an affair but all I could do was think of Meredith. Whatever type of magic the Grey women have, you'll never find anyone as remarkable as Y/N."
"I do have a ring. And I do know she's remarkable. I just worry that she'd regret it later."
"Is it the age thing? If it is, don't worry about that, trust me.โ Derek offered sympathetically. โI thought that myself and Addison would be married with a couple kids who are close to being grown up by now. Instead, I'm on my second marriage with a baby at home with a wife that's just over a decade younger than me, and it's the happiest I've ever been.โ
Jack let Derekโs words sink in for a moment.While you were younger, you had never been concerned about the age gap between you and him. If anything, you had repeatedly commented that men your age were idiots that didnโt realize how good they had it; and that you appreciated that Jack had a life before you came into the picture.
"Thanks. I appreciate the pep talk."
Smiling, Derek nudged Jackโs arm. "Of course, with wives, future wife, like ours, we have to stick together. Oh! Here they come."
"You were incredible in there!" You exclaimed pushing the door open to the locker room with Meredith in tow.
"Don't sell yourself short!"
"I know, I mean us cowboys need to keep the patients alive so you sharks can keep yourselves busy."
Fumbling with your locker combination, you open the door and hand your shoes to Meredith while pulling your black, knee length dress out from your bag.
โYouโre hilarious,โ Meredith deadpanned still holding your shoes, โactually, Callie mentioned about meeting another ortho surgeon here thatโs called Shark?โ
โAh,โ you started taking off your scrub top and pulling the dress over your head, โsheโs talking about Park the Shark. We try to avoid him like the plague. He terrifies the med students and interns, bares his teeth a lot at work, but apparently his girlfriend is a sweetheart.โ
โSounds like heโs bipolar or something.โ She hands you your shoes as youโre simultaneously pulling your dress down and taking off your scrub pants.
โIโd leave that to psych on the third floor.โ
โSo, howโs the sex?โ Meredith questioned suddenly out of left field.
You sputtered indignantly for half a second while fixing your hair in your locker mirror. โItโs good.โ
โJust good?โ
โItโs better than just good. He knows what heโs doing.โ
โAnd should we expect a wedding invitation soon?โ She smiled slyly.
โI donโt know. We havenโt really talked about it. I mean, Jackโs widowed, I doubt heโd want to go through it all over again.โ
โHe looks at you like you hung the moon and stars. Heโs going to ask you.โ Meredith leaned against the lockers as you grabbed your purse before shutting yours, โjust remember, donโt let what he wants eclipse what you need. Heโs very handsome but he is not the sun, you are.โ
โThanks Mer.โ
โYouโre my sister. Youโre my family. Youโre all Iโve got. Now, letโs go. Derek hasnโt shut up about this place since we landed yesterday.โ
Later, you and Meredith had found Jack and Derek out in the ambulance bay standing side by side staring at out at parking lot and the city. It warmed your heart to see the two men get along as both were important to you.
"We're ready." Meredith announced causing the two men to turn around. She glided her way to stand next to Derek and hook her arm around his.
"How did the boy make out?" Jack quested curiously.
"All good from what we know. Mer fixed himโ magnets in the abdomen." You replied engulfing him in a hug.
Jack grimaced at that. "You look nice." He added.
"Thanks," you reached up to kiss him which he returned, "I'll see you in the morning."
"Bring home some extra dessert."
A grin instantly grew across your face. "Dessert for breakfast? I like the way you think, especially when it's Derek paying. He's the one with the real money."
Derek intentionally coughed behind you signalling it was time to go.
โYes! Alright! Iโm coming! Ugh!โ
Grabbing hold of Derekโs other arm he began to guide you away from the hospital to their rental car.
Turning your head around you yelled out to Jack, โI love you!โ
He laughed, a smile on his face, โI love you too! Donโt forget dessert!โ
The last thing you thought before being carried away with your sister and Derek was I really need to marry her that man.
Paging Doctor Shepherd - Jack Abbot x Derek Shepherdโs Sister/Mark Sloanโs Ex
The people have spoken! Thanks to everyone that answered my poll! Iโve seen some variations of this concept but wanted to do my own version as I love a good crossover fic.
Summary: You receive an unwelcome visit from both your older brother and your ex-boyfriend while working at The Pitt.
Tags: fluff, angst, Reader is a Interventional Neurologist doing her fellowship, Derek and Mark are both menaces, Reader channels her inner Miranda Bailey, Reader is not a pushover when it comes to Derek meddling, medical inaccuracies, Jack is a supportive partner, brief mention of pregnancy, mild swearing, canon divergence.
Word count: 2.2k
A/N: Greyโs lines up with S4 & S5; takes place between S1 and S2 of the Pitt because it makes the most sense in my brain. My inspiration for the past!Mark x Reader relationship was Carly Simonโs โYouโre So Vainโ. Go HERE to read my outtakes.
Companion piece: The Grey Method
Being a Shepherd was bad enough but being Derek Shepherd's youngest sister was the worst. That was why you disappeared from New York after graduating from med school. The Shepherd name had a reputation in Medicine. Nancy was an OB/GYN, Nancy a psychiatrist, Liz in internal medicine, Derek and Amy were neurosurgeons, and then there was you, an interventional neurologist finishing her fellowship at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. What you thought would be an uncomplicated fellowship at The Pitt turned into something else completely complex, and his name was Jack Abbot.
You and Jack had initially met at the start of your fellowship two years prior after you opted to work the night shift (you were never really a morning person and opposite schedules meant that it was harder for your brother and sisters to reach you). After the shift from hell, you and Jack went out for breakfast, it was there that Jack had asked you out on an actual date once you both had the evening free and not in a trauma bay. From there your and Jackโs relationship blossomed. He understood your family dynamics and never pressed for more, and a year and a half into your relationship, Jack proposed. There was no pageantry when he asked you to marry him. It was at home, quiet and memorable after 18 long hours in the ED. Once you were engaged, you had told your mother and sisters, electing to withhold the news from Derek who thought that he should still have a say in your decisions.
It was an unusually quiet Thursday evening, but no doctor or nurse would say that out loud, when the day shift started doing handoffs with the night shift. You had come in early with Jack where you were hauled away immediately for a neuro consult for McKayโs stroke patient in South 3. Leaving the patient room with McKay, you both bumped into Princess who was looking starstruck.
โWhatโs wrong with you?โ McKay questioned with a smirk as she repositioned her stethoscope back around her neck.
Princess spun on her heels facing the two doctors, โhave you seen the two hotties that just arrived at the nurses station with Dana and Robby? A couple of doctors visiting from out of state.โ
You furrowed your eyebrows as you neared the nurses station seeing exactly who Princess was referring to, โno, no, no!โ
McKay looked at you with confusion, โWhat is it?โ
โThatโs my older brother and his best friend who I fondly refer to as the โBrokeback Mountain boysโ. Except instead of being gay for each other, theyโre womanizing whores with a surgeonโs god-complex.โ
โOoh, I smell family drama.โ
โNot now Princess.โ
Sighing in anguish, you angrily made your way over to the group of people conversing starring daggers at Derek and Mark. Little did you know that Jack was silently standing 30 feet away watching you fume.
โWhat the hell are you two idiots doing here?!โ
โWell hello to you too Y/N. Nice to see you arenโt ignoring me like my calls.โ Said Derek leaning against the desk casually fixing the sleeve of his dress shirt underneath his white coat.
โThereโs a reason for that.โ
โYeah, I heard it from both Amy and Meredith. I was already coming here to do an experimental surgery on one of my patients but I figured I would kill two birds with one stone, and you know, meet your latest boyfriend.โ
You looked at Derek with pure annoyance as if he had the right to poke and prod into the life you built away from New York.
Scoffing and narrowing your eyes, placing a hand on your hip, you said in an overtly sarcastic voice, โIโm Doctor McDreamy. Iโm tall, and handsome, and I like to show up to my sisterโs place of work unannounced, pondering which man she could possibly be sleeping with!โ
Derek gaped like fish out of water at your statement. In the background, Robby, Dana, Princess, and Perlah were all on the edge of their imaginary seats like they were watching the build up to a full blown argument in a teen reality show.
Meanwhile, from the corner of your eye, Mark began to laugh at his best friend. โWell, Little Shepherd, youโve grown up since the last time I saw you.โ
โDonโt call me that, Mark.โ You said sharply resisting the urge to grind your teeth as you glared at the other doctor.
โWhat do you want me to call you then Little Shepherd? Mi amor? Isnโt that what I called you when we spent that week in Mexico with you prancing around in that tiny pink bikini back while you were still in med school?โ
You felt like melting into a pool of embarrassment right there on the ED floor. You could only hope that Jack was elsewhere in the department (he wasnโt; Jackโs eyes were flickering between the back of your head, Mark, and Robby who could not stop himself from wearing a shit-eating grin in amusement).
โI am one step away from having you sterilized.โ
โDonโt worry, baby, Iโve changed.โ Mark, who was leaning against the desk next to your brother, raised his hands in his own defence.
โLast time I checked Mark, I didnโt sleep with all of my best friendโs sisters, then had a full-blown affair with his now ex-wife followed by hitting on his best friendโs new wife, and is now currently sleeping with his new half sister-in-law. Did I get that right?โ
You watched Derekโs eyes widen as he whipped his head between you and Mark, โIโm sorry, did you just say that he slept with all my sisters? And then try to sleep with Meredith after he destroyed my first marriage?โ
โThatโs exactly what Iโm saying.โ
โHey! Meredith and I were part of the Dirty Mistresses Club, we have camaraderie.โ Said Mark, offended by the very true accusation.
Before you could even offer a retort, you were immersed with a sinking feeling when a familiar warm hand was placed on your back.
โIs there a problem here?โ Jack questioned.
Your eyes widened before turning towards your fiancรฉ, โNo, thereโs not. Everything is fine.โ
Derekโs eyes flickered between you and Jack piecing together what was going on, โDerek Shepherd, Chief of Neurosurgery, Seattle Grace. And this is my friend and colleague, Mark Sloan, Chief of Plastic Surgery.โ he extended his hand to Jack who gave it a firm shake.
โJack Abbot, attending physician here in the ED.โ He replied, glancing at you and your brother.
You watch recognition cross Derekโs face as he realized Jack was the โJackโ you were getting married to soon. โNice to meet you, Dr. Abbot,โ he then turned to Robby, โDr. Robinavitch, would you mind if I stole my sister away for a moment?โ
โNot at allโ the break room should be free.โ Replied Robby pointing to the room in the corner before crossing his arms, โAlright, the rest of you, back to work, showโs over.โ
Before you could protest, you were being dragged along by Derek across the ED dodging patients and doctors alike. As Robby predicted, the break room was barren as Derek shut the door and locked it from the inside.
โThatโs the man youโre marrying? Heโs so much older than you!โ
โHeโs 49 not 80!โ You fired back at your brother defensively as you sat down in a plastic chair.
โYouโre 32!โ Derek exclaimed, โheโs older than me!โ
โYouโre older than Meredith!โ
โDonโt bring her into this.โ He pointed at you pacing around the room.
โHow can I not? There's barely any difference between you and Meredith, and me and Jack! The only difference is that you were separated from Addison, and Jack is widowed.โ
โAmy also mentioned that heโs retired from the military. He has a lot of historyโ are you sure you can handle that?โ
Fire burned inside of you at your brotherโs question. Standing up, you retorted, โfor your information, he was a trauma medic and he was discharged because he was injured and lost part of his right leg.โ
Derek ran a hand through his styled hair followed by pinching the bridge of his nose, โI donโt approve of this.โ
Putting both hands on your hips and glaring at Derek, you replied, โIโm marrying Jack and I really donโt care if you like it or not.โ
โI can get you a job in Seattle, you know. You donโt need to settle down here andโโ
โDerek,โ you cut him off, โIโm having his baby.โ
โWhat?โ Derek stumbled back in shock, โyouโre pregnant?โ
โYes, I only found out this morning. No one else knows.โ You revealed.
For days you had a sneaking suspicion that something was off after not feeling like yourself for a couple of weeks. It was probably around 4:30am earlier that day during your shift that you sneakily took a few pregnancy tests in the womenโs bathroom just outside the ED away from Jack and the residents. The tests were all positive and you had yet to make an official appointment with OB upstairs.
โOh,โ he said now softly, โ well then, congratulations.โ
You opened your mouth to reply but then your pager went off. โFuck. Stroke patient in south 3. I have to go.โ
โIโm coming with you.โ
โHe needs burr holes and a thrombectomy right now.โ You said to both Jack and Derek after rushing to the patient room.
Vivi, who was the nurse on the case, hung up the portable phone, โThat was surgery; all the ORs are in use right nowโ scheduling error.โ She said looking between you three.
โFucking perfect.โ You groaned in exasperation.
โIf we set up the trauma bay, would that work for you?โ Jack offered trying to find a solution.
You looked at Derek who nodded in thought, โget it prepped and call surgery and see if they can send a scrub nurse.โ
โOkay, whatever you need.โ Jack squeezed your shoulder for comfort before beckoning Vivi to start getting prepped.
โYou ever done one of these before?โ Questioned Derek.
โNot on a patient that had a subsequent massive stroke.โ
โDonโt worry, Iโll walk you through it.โ
In the trauma bay, you, Derek, and Jack were gowned and gloved up (Mark had offered to help Shen supervise the residents).
โYouโve got this sweetheart. You focus on this and weโll take care of the rest.โ Said Jack reassuringly.
โReady?โ Derek, stood next to you, looked at you questioningly.
โYou have to say it. Or else itโs bad luck.โ
โSay what?โ
โYour stupid saying that you quote before starting a surgery.โ
โOkay,โ he agreed, โalright everybody, itโs a beautiful night to save lives. Letโs get to work.โ
You looked to Jack one more time who nodded, instilling confidenceโ it was rare that you and Jack would work together on a case like this.
Extending your right arm you said, โdrill please.โ Feeling the pneumatic drill in your hand, you began to work with the two most important people at your side.
After surgery, you stood in the ambulance bay letting the cool nightโs breeze whip across your face. Next to you was Mark who joined you after Derek had followed the patient upstairs and Jack to check in on his other patients.
โRegret not becoming a fully-fledged neurosurgeon now?โ Mark asked with a smirk on his lips breaking the peaceful silence.
โNope, not at all.โ You responded.
โI like him by the way.โ Mark gave you a gentle nudge with his shoulder. โHe suits youโฆ lifts you up not drag you down. Reminds me of Lexi.โ
โThanks, donโt fuck it up with her, I mean it.โ You pointed a finger at Mark.
โIf thereโs anything Iโve learned tonight is that I realized that you have a type.โ
โIโm sorry?โ
โOlder, grey-haired, sexy men. Competent but sometimes emotionally constipated.โ
โNow youโre just fishing for compliments.โ You laughed at your ex-boyfriend.
โA man can try. If youโre not exhausted tomorrow morning, Iโll take you out for breakfast before our flight in the afternoon. I hear congratulations are in order.โ
โDerek has a big fucking mouth.โ You grumbled furrowing your eyebrows.
โIโm happy for you Y/N. Youโre a far cry from that 22 year old you used to be.โ
โThanks.โ Checking your watching, you balk at the time, โI should head back in. Unfortunately, emergencies never stop. Iโll see you around Mark.โ
You head back into the ED through the bay door immediately bumping into Jack who had been looking for you.
โYou were a rock star tonight.โ Jack said, leaning in for a kiss as he held your hips towards his.
โAll part of my charm. Iโm sorry if my two idiots made you uncomfortable.โ
โNah, theyโre surgeons with soft hands. I could take him if I needed to. Also, you're needed for a consult in central 5.โ
You grinned, taking his hands in yours, โI know you could. And I happen to have a surprise for you later.โ
Jack smirked, his eyes lighting up.
โNot that kind of surprise. Any who, I have a job to do, you know, no rest for the wicked.โ You released Jackโs hands before starting to walk away toward the nurses station.
โI love you.โ Jack exclaimed watching you leave.
Turning around and winking at him, you replied, โI know.โ
Summary: Brendon likes paying for his teamโs food, it makes him feel good that theyโre cared for. Youโre part of his team so of course he wants to provide for you too, but lines blur from professional care to personal.
Authors note: Hi everyone!!! Truly thank you so much for the love on my last post, i cannot believe you guys loved it so much but im so happy you did! this is my first time posting in parts and lmk if you like this format or not. and as always requests are open and i appreciate all comments/asks
tags: slight sugar daddy x baby relationship, coworkers to lovers, social media au, he just wants to provide, age gap (brendon is late 30s, reader is early 20s), emma nolan & reader friendship, reader types in lowercase
divider by @diviniyae
i hope you guys love this one i think this is so fun, and a good dynamic to explore <333
Secret Boyfriend! Brendon Park who stalks through the ED like a shark in bloodied water biting everyone who dares stand in his way except โฆ you? Robby first notices this when treating the trauma patient with the amputated leg from the waterpark accident, how Brendon doesnโt snap at you the same way he does with the rest of the ED staff.
Secret Boyfriend! Brendon Park who will always take the chance to touch you when he can, a hand on your lower back whilst passing or his fingers brushing yours as you hand him an instrument.
Secret Boyfriend! Brendon Park who spoils you rotten, new bags, new clothes, new jewellery. You name it, he was probably the one who bought it for you. Hair appointment upcoming? His bank card lives in your purse.
Secret Boyfriend! Brendon Park who somehow always knows where you are in the ER, like a magic seventh sense.
Secret Boyfriend! Brendon Park who will defend you to the ends of the Earth against anyone, patients, families, residents, interns- Ogilvie- will all meet his quiet wrath if anyone spoke out of turn to you.
Secret Boyfriend! Brendon Park who let you steal his favourite pen, he doesnโt think heโll ever ask for it back.
Secret Boyfriend! Brendon Park who keeps your relationship a secret because he knows youโre scared of being accused of โsleeping your way to the topโ. He hates that you feel the need to hide it but would never pressure you to reveal it.
Secret Boyfriend! Brendon Park who always has a spare hair tie in his pocket for you, knowing you lose them constantly.
Secret Boyfriend! Brendon Park who lowers his voice instinctively when talking to you, itโs not even something he knows he does until Garcia pokes fun at him for it.
Secret Boyfriend! Brendon Park who kickstarted the relationship when he asked you out for drinks during a medical conference in another state.
โIf you stare any harder, your eyes are gonna leave an imprint on the back of her head, Park.โ
Brendonโs head jerks to the side, startled by the voice. He rolls his eyes with a shake of his head.
โDonโt know what youโre talking about Robinavitch.โ
Robby chuckles as he stands beside Brendon โYeah, and the skyโs purple. All Iโm saying is you should ask her out. You and I both know sheโs the nicest person here and a great catch. If youโre not careful, others will see it too and snatch her right up.โ
Brendon crosses his arms and huffs silently as Robby walks away.
You were the beloved nurse of the hospital, more specifically in the emergency department. Everyone loved you and never had anything bad to say, including the patients.
You were also too good for him. Where you were all sunshine and smiles, he was rainclouds and storms. He also couldnโt tell if you were even interested.
You did eat lunch with him almost every day. You were the one to catch him up on the latest gossip. You were the first to offer him help if he needed it. You also were the one who could break him out of a bad mood.
Yet, he didnโt know if you felt things for him that were more than friends. You werenโt dating or seeing anyone but you also never mentioned wanting a boyfriend either.ย
Several people would comment that he needed to ask you out or stake his claim if he didnโt want to lose you but he just couldnโt bring himself to do it. He also had heard enough of the pestering and the teasing. It only reminded him that he couldnโt have you.
So, in that moment Brendon knew what heโd have to do soon. And it would stand to be the dumbest thing he could do to deal with his feelings.
โ---
Youโre across the other side of the pitt updating electronic files when hands land on your shoulders.
โThe shark is staring at you again, girl.โ
A small smile makes its way onto your face as you shake your head lightly.
โTrin, I told you to stop calling him that. Also, heโs not staring.โ
Trinity places her phone in your face and you see a picture of Brendon leaning on the nurses station counter and staring right at you, who is in the background.
โTrinity! Why are you taking pictures of him!โ you laugh as you turn to face her.
โBecause you love to be in denial about how heโs so into you. Iโm telling you, he wants you. And we all know you want him too.โ she raises a knowing eyebrow.
Your face heats up at the statement.
โSee!โ she exclaims โGuilty, guilty, guilty!โ
You shake your head in amusement as you go back to your filing.
โOh, there he comes! Bye girl!โ
You turn to look at Trinity but are met with the large broad chest of Brendon.
โHey trouble.โ he says a little gruffly but you know thatโs the norm for him.
You face him fully with a shy smile โHey Bren, what can I do for you?โ
He holds his hand out expectantly without a word. You cross your arms and tilt your head slightly.
โIโm fine, Bren. Iโve been in range.โ
He doesnโt move a muscle, hand still out.
With a huff you hold out your arm to him. He grabs it gently and scrolls through your apple watch.
โ89 bpm avg. over last 4 hoursโ
He stares at it as he reads. โThatโs higher than when your shift started.โ
โI know but itโs been steady since.โ
See, you had a heart rhythm disorder, Cardiac arrhythmia, specifically tachycardia. This meant that your heart rate often went over 100 bpm. The higher it went, the worse it was for you. The episodes of arrhythmia would make you feel like you couldnโt breathe because your heart was beating way too fast. Other symptoms included dizziness, lightheaded feelings and extreme fatigue after episodes.
This was something discovered as a kid and it happened more often as you were older. Episodes varied depending on different factors or they happened randomly.
This was something you disclosed to your pitt family for your safety and in case something happened when you were treating a patient.
When Brendon found out, he took it upon himself to be your monitor. He would check your bpm periodically during the day and advise you when to rest or take it easy if he felt your vitals reflected that.
As annoying as it could be at times, you knew he cared and you couldnโt truly be mad at him for it. It was one of the several reasons you started falling for him.
He meets your eyes, arm still in his hands. โIf it goes any higher, sit down and text me. Okay?โ
You move forward and give him a lingering hug.ย
โI will, Bren. Promise. Text me when youโre headed to lunch and Iโll meet you.โ
He kisses the top of your head โWill do. See you later, trouble.โ
It's the next day during shift that things take a turn.
Today you and Brendon have opposite shifts. You had traded shifts with a fellow nurse which meant you were team night shift for today.ย
Walking in ten minutes early, you're greeted by the night shift brigade. โThereโs our new night owl!โ Jack smiles wide from the desk area.
You point at him with a matching smile โOnly for the night, Abbot. Sunlight is more my style.โ
He scoffs in amusement.
โYou know youโd love it if you switched over to the nightcrawlers, kid.โ
The laughing is interrupted by a deep voice speaking up.
โOver my dead body.โ
You turn to the side and see Brendon approaching slowly with his arms crossed.
โBren, I'm not going anywhere.โ you pat his chest lightly โWho else would I eat my lunch with while catching up on Pittsburgh gossip?โ
He slings an arm around your shoulder and pulls you close. Jack catches the gestures between you both and smirks โDonโt worry shark, you can keep your little early bird.โ
You don't notice Jackโs observant gaze because youโre too busy getting ready to talk to Brendon briefly before shift change. Your bpm had been higher today than yesterday and you wanted to keep him updated even though you guys weren't going to be on the same shift today.
โHey Bren, I ju-โ you start to lift your arm but stop when Dana speaks up from beside Jack.
โShark, When were you gonna tell us you had a date? Garcia mentioned it earlier. Whenโs that happening?โ
You couldโve sworn your world stopped after her words.
Date? He had a date?
You lower your arm back as you look up at him, waiting for his answer. Waiting for him to tell her sheโs wrong and that thereโs no date.
His face shows heโs not too thrilled that the topic has been brought up but he answers anyway.
โI uh, yeah. Itโs tonight actually. She seems nice so weโll see.โ
His eyes catch yours and you quickly force a smile before looking elsewhere.
Donโt cry, donโt cry, donโt cry.
You canโt see Trinity and Robby stopped near the group having overheard the news. You canโt see the sad looks they give you. Both of them knew you had a massive crush on Brendon and were hopeful he would make the move.
But I guess not.
Jack observes you and Brendon again and knows that Brendon likes you and you him. So why is he going on a date that isn't with you?
You cough a little to keep yourself from crying in front of everyone.
โIโve got to put my stuff up, be right back. Have a good night guys and good luck tonight Bren. Iโll uh, talk to you later.โ
You quickly make your way to the lockers, wiping a tear away, not being able to hold it back anymore.
Did he not like you?
Were you just imagining things?
How could you have been so wrong?
โ--
Itโs two hours into your shift and youโre still pretty down about the revelation of Brendonโs date tonight.
You check your phone as you finish a snack and find a text from Trinity
That gets a small smile out of you. Trinity was one of a kind and you could always count on her to cheer you up outside of Brendon.
As you throw your trash away and make your way back to the floor, a pain in your chest stops you. You stay still and assess yourself. Your heart feels like itโs racing a bit but nothing too alarming. Checking your watch you see thereโs a new notification
Shit, it had gotten higher than what it was this morning.
You shake your head a bit.
Iโll worry about it later, Iโll be fine.
โ--
Almost an hour goes by and now the symptoms are stacking. You know you should tell someone but you donโt want to bother or worry anyone. Night shift was busy and there wasnโt too much downtime to have.
โKid, did you hear me?โ
What?
You turn your head to follow the voice and see Jack.
โYeah?โ
Jack tilts his head as he observes your demeanor.
โI asked if you were on the way to the next patient.โ
You blink hard as your heart races more than it had all day.
โYeah Iโm going now.โ you think to you say out loud
โKid, hey. Are you okay?โ
You canโt answer as your chest heaves from beating so fast.
Shit.
Youโre unsteady on your feet and you start to stumble. Grabbing your chest you sink to your knees on the ground.
โWoah! Cโmon kid, look, breathe with me. Deep breaths. Ellis! Get a gurney now!
Voices start to blur together as you try to keep your eyes open.
โI need you, Brenโ you think as it all starts to go black.ย
Brendon smiles politely at the woman in front of him
Theyโre at a nice restaurant in downtown Pittsburgh, having just placed their orders.
Sheโs nice and beautiful butโฆshes not you.
She doesnโt laugh loudly at his jokes.
She doesnโt hold his hand and play with his fingers while talking like you do.
Her nose doesn't scrunch when she smiles like yours does.
Why the hell did he do this?
He should have just asked you out even if the end result was rejection. He just misses you.
Brendon listens as his date talks about her job at the local news station when his phone goes off signaling a text. It sits on the corner of the table where he can glance and read it.
His heart drops into his stomach with every word he reads. Not even realizing Jack had referred to you as โhis girlโ.
Shit, he never checked your watch earlier. He always does.
โHey look, Iโm so sorry. I have an emergency at the hospital. This was great but I donโt think this is gonna work. Stay and eat, itโs on me. Again, Iโm so sorry.โ
He rushes the apology to his date as he gathers his things and quickly makes his way to ptmc.
โ--
The sound of shoes racing across the floor causes Jack to look up from his chart. Brendon looks around, chest heaving from running a few blocks from the restaurant.
โPark!โ Jack calls and motions him forward.
Brendon jogs up to him โWhere is she?โ
Jack leads him to a room where you lay in a bed resting.
He immediately walks to your side and gently holds your face with one hand.
Jack fills him in on what he witnessed.
Brendon shakes his head with guilt at not checking in with you earlier.
After a few minutes the movement of his hand slowly wakes you from your sleep.
โBren?โ
He sits and leans his elbow on your bed, hand in your hand.
โHey trouble, you feeling okay?โ
You nod sluggishly with your eyes closed โIโm so tired Bren.โ
He squeezes your hand lightly.
โThatโs okay sweetheart. You just rest and Iโll be right here. Wanna tell me what happened tonight?โ
You swallow as you turn your head to face him.
โBpm was higher this morning than yesterday. I meant to show you earlier but forgot. Then I started feeling bad after a few hours and I knew I shouldโve taken it easy but I didnโt.โ
โIโm so sorry sweetheart. I always check and I didnโt this time.โ
You shake your head โNo Bren, itโs not your fault. You were leaving and you had thatโ oh my god, your date! Please donโt tell me you left it to be here?โ
He smiles at your rambling.
โI'm fine right here. You know Iโd drop anything to be there for you, always. And it wasnโt working out anywaysโฆ kinda had my mind on someone else.โ
You furrow your eyebrows at this.
Someone else? Another person?
โSheโs funny, smart, fucking gorgeous, the best nurse, always has lunch with me, and is a bit of trouble in the best way of course.โ he winks at the last part.
Thereโs no way.
Your eyes widen a bit โBren? Whโโ
โShhhโ he rubs his thumb across your hand. โJust rest for now and Iโll ask you on a date properly when youโre feeling better.โ
You smile as your eyes start to close from the exhaustion โokayโ you murmur.
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